#Cultural-inspired carpets

[globalfloor]

If you are looking for Living Room Carpets and Rugs you may contact us at info@surekasgroup.com or whats ap at +91-9839141651

[weldnas]

-

[sseditorialnews]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by SSEDITORIAL (@sseditorial)

[heritageposts]

i saw the trailer for the new feel-good “anti-racist” US war movie about the carpet bombing of North Korea and started writing up something for this blog, partially inspired by the absolute shit storm i got for sharing that post i made with pictures of everyday life outside pyongyang

and then i gave up, because what’s the point? westerners can’t even handle a single picture of a north korean not looking miserable without screaming propaganda

meanwhile, there are no stories about the horrors of life in the ‘hermit kingdom’ that are deemed too outlandish to be believable. i can’t remember who said it, but it’s like the entire country has taken up permanent residence in the western imaginary as some silly little cartoon villain, where the leaders of the country does evil things for no discernible reason. they’re just silly and evil like that, and the citizens, of course, are silly, too. silly and brainwashed.

i watched a video recently of a tourists visiting an auto dealership in pyongyang, and the entire time he was just gawking at the employees and costumers, shoving his phone in their face, and confidently explaining to his youtube audience that everyone he’s interacting with are actually actors.

what level of dehumanization do you have to reach for that thought to even cross your mind? to think that the people you see before you are actors? that entire cities and shops are erected with to sole purpose that you, a western, will see them and be impressed?

what frustrates me the most is the casual cruelty that seeps into any mention of north korea, no matter how small. if north koreans are not being evil, they’re being silly.

a north korean newspaper reports that a group of archeologists in pyongyang have discovered an old rock carving with the words ‘unicorn lair’ (mistranslated), and the western press reports that north koreans now believe in unicorns.

a tourist at a hotel in hamhung is told by the receptionist to be careful at the beach: the waves can get high. that day the tourists goes to the beach, and there are no waves. she retells the story to her instagram followers, explaining that the poor woman at the hotel could never have seen real waves before because north koreans are probably never allowed to travel.

she adds a little teary-eyed emoji.

one of the cities i included in the post was sariwon, a densely populated city to the south of pyongyang. below are some pictures from its “folk customs street”, which was built to showcase old korean traditions and customs

here’s all wikipedia has to say about it

Built to display an ideal picture of ancient Korea, it includes buildings in the "historical style" and a collection of ancient Korean cannons. Although it is considered an inaccurate romanticized recreation of an ancient Korean street, it is frequently used as a destination for foreigners on official government tours. Many older style Korean buildings exist in the city.

it’s just north koreans being silly again. there’s no mention of what might motivate them to build a street like that — why the preservation of old customs, culture and architecture might somehow be important for the city

could it perhaps have something to do with how the U.S. air force dropped 635,000 tons of bombs, including 32,557 tons of napalm, over the korean peninsula during the war? the carpet bombings, which are now the topic of an upcoming hollywood movie about overcoming racism through warcrimes, destroyed an estimate of 85% of all buildings in north korea. some cities were entirely wiped off the map.

in sariwon they missed a few buildings, but not many — after an intense firebombing campaign the U.S. military estimated the destruction of sariwon to be at 95%.

none of this is mentioned on the wikipedia page for sariwon.

we destroyed entire cities. memory-holed the entire thing, called it the forgotten war. and now, 70 years later, we’re convincing ourselves that the people living in the ruins are actors.

and somehow the north koreans are the brainwashed ones

[akajustmerry]

Merryana, do you have articles or papers to recommend about Dune's inspiration/appropriation of the Quran and Islam? As an atheist with very little knowledge of religion, and I have a hard time knowing whether the articles I'm reading are thorough or not. Rn Im reading 'the Muslimness or Dune: a close reading of Appendix III' by Harris Durrani

hi there. honestly, I don't know of any academic ones. if you're that dedicated, just research the authors of what you're reading, and read Edward Said's Orientalism. In the meantime, this a good read by Nadeine Asbali.

The vaguely Arab desert backdrop becomes a place of intrigue and mystique (fit, even, to become the backdrop of a glamorous premiere) rather than the underdeveloped sites of war that the Middle East is usually portrayed as.

Words like ‘jihad’ are bandied about with no fear of criminalisation in this fictional paradigm that cloaks itself in Muslimness while further eroding our agency as Muslims.

Frustratingly but not surprisingly, for a film that so heavily borrows from the Arab Muslim world, there are no Middle Eastern actors in the cast. The lack of representation reinforces the overriding Orientalist agenda: our cultures can be attractive and commercial but only if adopted by the white and the wealthy.

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! Fashion Designer

As a black hispanic writer, i thought that it was finally time to write a hispanic character. I hope you guys enjoy this piece, i'm much more confident with this post as it's a culture i'm familiar with. Please never feel afraid to talk/send requests in my ask box.

Matías has always had a crystal clear vision of what his future was meant to be. He knew he wanted to get an education in fashion, pursue a career in that subject, live in a townhouse in the middle of a metropolitan area, have two or so cats whose only jobs were to tear up his carpet. He's always wanted to fall in love, as well. But, for some reason he thought love would not fit with the career path he was choosing and he wouldn't have enough time for another person everyday. But, as he grew older from when he first started his career, he realized how disgustingly wrong he was. The poisonous thoughts in his head were, "well to be one of the greats I'll have to lay off of the need for love." All of the people who inspired him seemed to have gone down that road but he soon realized that didn't mean he had to aswell.

He was always portrayed in the media as a tortured artist that was depraved of love, but, look! He's an icon and he's fine with the lack of affection in his life. But that couldn't have been even more wrong. He desperately wanted for a person on the side of his painfully empty bed, someone to share thousands of mornings with, someone to go grocery shopping with, someone to warm him seats, somebody to love.

Eventually, he set his wide brown eyes on you. The two of you met at an event made for people with careers in the creative passage. His gaze settled on you explaining the backstory behind your ceramic sets, intriguing buyers with your magnifying words. He was struck with slight by your celestial appearance but he took his chance to speak with you and walked on over.

As the conversation progressed he realized you, surprisingly, didn't know who he was! And yet, you weren't condescending or disrespectful about it, you showed your feelings of interest and asked deep rooted questions about his work. This one interaction attracted him to you and he counted himself lucky that you wanted to continue talking, giving him your personal number.

Was he giddy about the fact it was your personal number and not your business number? Yes.

He called you at all times of the day in which you were available, asking you personal questions and crossing his fingers that you wouldn't get put off for his intense need for human connection, and guess what? You stayed.

He invited you to one of his annual fashion shows where tons of loved celebrities were present. In his thoughts, this was the perfect setting for him to ask you to be strictly his. After the two of you had a delicious dinner at the same table in which several movie stars were sat, he asked you to be his girlfriend. He had to suppress the urge to kiss you right then and there when you said yes. He could've since the both of you were now in a private setting, but, he needed it to be a separate and even more special occasion.

From that day on, he never faltered in his immense love and utter obsession he had for you. When he finished a fashion sketch and started picking out the fabrics for his project, he would ask you to be his model. Wrapping measuring tape around your waist, purchasing silks that complimented your skin tone. Magazine editors, journalists and critics found the fact that every original piece of his was so clearly modeled for + by you, the best romantic partnership story in the history of fashion.

At the end of every show of his, the both of you would walk out hand in hand. Except, you were wearing the one and only original clothing piece from one of his most popular fashion collections. Your job wasn't a professional model but that didn't stop him from treating you as such. In and out of work.

During interviews, he'd get questioned if he'd let anyone else be the model for his beginning sketches for the purpose of range.

"Well, I do have range. That's the main thing I'm known for, the complexity of my collections and designs. I'm the professional here so I'd rather listen to advice from me than you, thank you." The question he was asked wasn't necessarily harmful towards you, but that didn't stop Matías from fighting tooth and nail for you. Why? Well, put yourself in the shoes of a man head over heels in love.

Whilst on vacations together, you'd get self conscious of all the money he was spending on you. Did he really have to spend all that money on shopping for the highest quality clothing for you? In his mind, yes! It's his money so let him spend it the way he wants.

He makes clothing specifically for you, never letting you taint yourself with the filthy clothing made by other people. He takes great pride in seeing you decked out in the stuff he made while you were in his mind. Embroidery, colors, silk, chiffon, jersey, wool; he took all of your favorite things into consideration as he crafted his best work for you.

As the two of you drive around in the safe Cadillac he bought specifically for your honeymoon in Marseille, France, he can't help but think about how he's going to drown you with gifts and delicious foods before desserts later on that day. Will you get anxious of all the money he's spending? Yes. But he'll reassure you. He's THE Matías Herrera. He's spending money while his bank account is getting filled to the brim every second.

He's taking you to oyster restaurants, booking a private spa day just for you, getting down on his knees to put your shoes on your feet, feeding you tortellini, zipping up your silk dress from behind, putting the morganite-stoned necklace on you, quickly going for a coffee run and coming back up to your shared hotel room with your order before you wake up.

Before the two of you got married, he took you to meet his mother and father in the home he paid off for them. Not wanting to seem disrespectful and show up empty handed, you baked some sweets for them and wrote them a letter in your appreciation for their son. Because of that, they knew they were going to adore you as a daughter-in-law. As soon as you walked into their cozy residence, the aroma of freshly cooked food hit your nose. They prepared delicious traditional Mexican cuisine, consisting of menudo and mole with a side of chopped up onions, cilantro and tomatoes. That night, a shared love sparked between you and your soon to be in-laws. His parents shared words of appreciation towards you and you couldn't have been happier.

At your wedding, Matías couldn't help but sob at the sight of you as you walked down the aisle. The stream tears didn't falter even as he recited his vows that he had written a year ago. Your wedding was so emotional in the most beautiful way, causing people in the crowd to grab at tissues to hide their tears.

From all of the instances of him being a lovesick puppy around you, you wouldn't have even begun to think of him as a violent person. Of course, he would never be aggressive or violent towards you, but to others that he considered threats? Oh absolutely. His career gave him an understanding of the human body (all of its sensitive parts) and he's willing to use it to his sinful advantage when it comes to defending you.

Hello everybody! I wanted to thank each and every one of you for gifting me 100 followers. I apologize very deeply because I know this may not be my best piece of work, I didn't feel very good today but I still wanted to give you guys something for being so sweet to me. Have an amazing day and night! Also, just to ramble a bit more, my yan! scientist post was inspired by seeing Cillian Murphy as Oppenheimer in the movie trailer, I hope that doesn't make me weird. I'm watching the movie tomorrow and I won't be able to handle the immense amount of dread I'm going to feel after seeing it or all of the incredibly attractive actors on screen. Alright, enough about me, I'll post more tomorrow! ♡

[ponett]

Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!

So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with

Heads up: this will be kinda long lol

The germ of an idea

For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.

Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.

Contrast

From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.

I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.

So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.

These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.

Specificity

Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.

This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:

No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem. So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific. For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher. Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more? The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art. She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.

Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.

It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.

Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!

But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be

Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:

Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome

Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)

Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color

A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette

Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!

[romanovthinkver]

pov: you’re scarlett johansson’s wife // sfw headcanons

scarlett knows you’re in love with New York and despite having drivers that can easily bring you to one side to another of the city, she knows you prefer taking the subway. you’re favourite is the Q train where you can see the best landscapes as it’s an open train space. your wife always makes sure to pick up a spot by the door, she always says “i want to see that beautiful smile on your face the whole ride” and as you watch the train going from Manhattan to Brooklyn, scarlett wraps an arm around your waist and looks up at you with pure love.

scarlett loves how you adore your county despite its bad sides. you’re here for work so you don’t go back home as much as you would want. the last time was at christmas two years ago with all the family. little pieces of your culture are spread in the house tho, through the food, the flag you hung in your home office, some products you buy at the authentic drug stores owned by people of your home-country. you also started to teach the kids your childhood traditions, your favourite meals, your native language even. sometimes you go out in typical restaurants, or the one that claims to be typical when they’re not, and your wife has to listen you ramble about how they couldn’t make a simple dish of your land and instead ruined it. “can you believe baby? they ruined it, look at this: chicken. why? there’s no chicken in the original recipe and yet i see chicken here, why you americans put chicken everywhere?” scarlett would laugh and sometimes record your little grumbles. the kids loves when you, their mama, cook home land dishes of a culture they’re starting to feel like theirs. your wife loves when your accent rolls off your tongue when you’re tired or pissed, sometimes even when you two fuck roughly; it send her over the edge in no time. however the thing she likes the most is when you speak in your native language giving her or the kids pet names or when you whisper “i love you.”

you’re the biggest supporter ever. the way your eyes shine when you stand beside scarlett at movies premiers, it’s unmatched. you always buzz around your wife when she’s being prepared by make-up and hair-stylists taking extra time to snap some phots of her proudly. you make sure her dress is always perfect and adjust it often during the carpet. you make sure scarlett is always hydrated, not only with alcohol but with water too!, and fed because these things are stressful and your lady has to be healthy. you step back when she poses for paparazzi photos even tho she insists to have you beside her, she would softly place her hand on your chest clothed by the black jacket and shares smiles and little whispers. “you’re so beautiful, baby” or “i can’t take my eyes off you” these are the words that you find to whisper to her in that moments when your eyes are glued to her form, your hand gently cradles her back. you in the end step back giving your wife the deserved moment in the shiny flashes of the photographer’s bulbs, she poses and you look at her, sometimes you would snap a few picture too of her beside the paparazzi. scarlett would peck your lips amidst the event, they reassure you like a warm blanket and she softly pass her slender fingers to wipe her lipstick off your lips. you watch the movie with rapt attention because despite everything, before meeting her, you were and are a fan of her movies. in the end you always hug her and pepper her lips and cheeks whispering “congratulations my love, you were brilliant!”, “i can feel the oscar baby, can i start your campaign now?”, “i’m so incredibly proud of you, you’re a movie star” or “look at that baby, they’re all clapping and cheering for you, you’re so inspiring.” at the after party you both dance, engage in conversation with people and sometimes only seat at the bar together. you make sure to drink only safe drinks and let your wife party as she deserve. you take care of her and by the end of the night she’s not much sober but you steady her holding by her waist, your suit jacket always ready to shield the woman from the cold gently rest on her shoulders and her heels accomodate your feet while she wears you’re much more comfortable shoes.

scarlett started a skin care brand line with her friend and co-founder, kate foster. you, despite not knowing a thing about skin care, started to be supportive since the first day. however you didn’t know your wife would make you be a tester. you forgot how many times you ran around the house to dodge her “c’mon baby let’s try this eye cream, i swear it will be good for your eyes!” or the times she would let you sit on the bathroom sink with a blue argyle mask on your face, a hand band with the brand logo that would definitely make your curls frizzy and messy. you would groan and grumble a lot but your wife is always quick to kiss you. in the end you fell into a routine of doing this pampering ritual every night. slowly you started to learn a lot about skin care and your wife’s work. you also would crash often at her office to just bring donuts and coffee or sneak to spend more time with your wife and the team. and much to your dismay, scarlett will never stop treating you like a tester, she’s already planning on dragging you at the offie to record some funny videos of her putting on your face brand new face creams.

talking about videos, you hate cameras and photos. oh you’re the opposite of your wife in this department. you’re a diplomat, an ambassador specifically, so you barely stand in front of cameras and address speeches, a safe way to do what you love without struggling with the media press. however since you got into a relationship with your wife and got married, you quickly became a target to paparazzi’s cameras. you awkwardly stand beside your wife when you’re taking photos at the event she has to attend, but scarlett is always there to calm you down with soft touches, whispers and little pecks. “it’s okay baby, focus on me, everything’s is alright”. when they catch you in the street you go protective over the kids and wife putting your discomfort aside. “little one it’s okay, look at mama, everything is okay. scarlett, baby, come closer to me. it’s okay”. when you’re alone, you just hide behind a hoodie hood. you rarely talk to the microphones and usually only offer politely smile and shield your anxious eyes.

scarlett never saw you crying in the years you’ve been together and probably she thought she would never. this until your wedding day arrived. oh, boy! the moment you saw her walking down the aisle you started crying for her endlessly beauty and the overwhelming love you have for her. after that you cried again, much harder, when your little girl was born. scarlett loves teasing you a lot about it. you blush rolling your eyes playfully and dismissing her with a groan.

you rarely fight but when you do, and it’s always for silly things, it doesn’t take much to crack the hard shell. one of you crawl in the arms of the other not much more than 1 hour later. you’re an ambassador so your job is to make peace, after toxic experiences in your past relationship, your communication level is high and you’re lucky enough to have found scarlett that is on the same page as yours. scarlett would hold you close and kiss the crown of your head. “i’m so sorry my love, i promise to work better on these things.” you would kiss her knuckles and whisper “i’m sorry too, baby, we’ll work on them together.”

at the end of the day it’s just you and your wife. you softly sway in the gold sunrise painting your skins. scarlett arms wrapped around your neck cradling the glass of wine between her hands while she leans to ghost your lips. your hand on her hip, the other hold your glass of wine close to the chest. you both hum the song that is putted on the background while behind you food cooks on the stove and mixes with the noises of the city. it’s peaceful, it’s a paradise, it’s you and the love of your life in a life that isn’t perfect, but has a glimpse of perfection shared together.

a/n: pt.2? nsfw part?

[crinolinecuriousity]

so glad to know that weird girl culture is alive and well every year when I see the Stuck at Prom gallery... here are some faves from this year’s gallery, all of which were not finalists. 

view the whole gallery and vote for the winners here!

Lizbeth -  there were a handful of outfits that were inspired by cultures but this one was one of my favorites, a love the color scheme, the fringe, and the bow, I think she did a very good job and I could genuinely see someone wearing this on the runway!

Elizabeth - really liked her colors, which she said was inspired by a peacock at her house I think? but what stuck out to me was the gradient on the edge of her skirt and the straps

Presley - I can definitely see why she wasn’t a finalist but she also looks gorgeous, I think it’s hard to pull off a mostly solid red dress and she genuinely looks like a Disney princess

Jadyn - genuinely cannot believe she was not a finalist. like the first picture literally does not look like duct tape, you could tell me it was a fabric costume on Broadway and I would believe you.

Catrielle - another one I can’t believe wasn’t a finalist! there are always a handful of outfits that use gold but I love what she did with it. plus the shoes and the bag?? love love love

Ava - I could LITERALLY see this at the Met Gala red carpet. the detailing is insane and the skirt came out looking really nice and even. she looks gorgeous!

Ritika - there were a couple of circle skirts but this was one of my favorites. her theme of harmony seemed relevant with a lot of the current events going on as well - the skirt is colorful but isn’t distracting and I think it’s a more elaborate dress that actually manages to pull off the busier look

Veronica - I DEFINITELY think she should have been a finalist for suits. like I think this outfit is more compelling and has a cooler background (Filipina culture) than like. the white(?) guy who just made a samurai suit. I really love how she like... feminized the suit jacket if that makes sense? I think she slayed it

Madyson - this one was so fun to look at! I love the manta ray bag and the sand dollar earrings too, I would love to see a fabric rendition of this dress. you can tell she had a lot of fun making it from the pictures, too.

Eliza - this one was inspired by a Shakespeare line if I remember correctly and it really reminds me of old 80s/90s catalogues. was really impressed by the puffed sleeves!

Owen - there’s always more dresses than suits entered since most of the competitors are girls. this was a suit that was inspired by the AIDS crisis quilts, I think he should have been a finalist and he looks more put together than some of the suit finalists

Kendyl - this one was insane to me - she looks gorgeous and I could see this being a real fabric prom dress or a dress a celeb wears on the red carpet. I can’t get past the detailing and the ruffles?? insanely talented

Lily - personally I think this suit would have looked better without the rectangles on the pant legs but that being said, I love this outfit so much, you can tell what she drew inspiration from and I think it’s simple but classy and it works beautifully. I could see this on the runway!

[ninjaturtlemaniac]

MeTROLLpolitan Museum of Art Gala

Symphonyville has finally been returned to its former glory!

In celebration and appreciation, the Classical Trolls have extended invitations for their most exclusive of art and culture festivities.

The Met Gala.

This years theme: 'Trolls in Nature"

General Princess Viva is the first of the Pop Trolls to walk the gold carpet.

This will be the first year that art from other tribes will be included in the exhibitions. The Tribal leaders as well as the most famous names in all Trolldom are invited i.e. Kismet, Brozone, Sugar Gals, Bad Hair Day and Val Thundershock.

Viva's outfit inspired by butterflies because 'she has emerged' and is 'rejoining Troll society'. Also I wanted Viva and Clay to kinda match. You'll just have to wait and see why Clay's matches this.

I am designing all of Brozone plus Poppy and Viva.

And in case you were wondering.

Rhonda is also ready to party!

@jorjafrozen :D

[dresshistorynerd]

the gilded age costuming is interesting in that they deliberately take inspiration from later designs for bertha and gladys to emphasise the “nouveau riche” while the old money characters will be clothed in more historically accurate fashions (some are even direct replicas of paintings/extant garments)

I do understand the urge to do that, and I know it's approach with a lot of historical costuming, but personally I dislike that approach. I think it misunderstands the point of fashion in Victorian society. Today we think of the most fashionable people to be very forward thinking in their fashion and for formal clothing to be most fashionable. Red carpet is often treated as fashion event. However, this was not the case in Victorian society. Fashion was social decorum, it was a requirement to participate in high society. Or rather it was requirement to participate in society at all. Even workers adhered to the fashionable silhouette, while working. Here's for example factory workers from mid 1890s with perfectly fashionable silhouettes with the big sleeves and all.

I think it's quite backwards to think nouveau rich would be experimenting with futuristic fashion. It's unthinkable they wouldn't adhere to the fashionable silhouette for high society events especially. They were the ones trying to establish themselves as part of high society, so they would be the ones most religiously following the fashionable silhouettes and styles. This is why tea gowns were much more experimental, and why the counter cultural Aesthetic style, which rejected the Victorian silhouette, could first entered high society through tea gowns. Tea gowns were worn in more intimate society gatherings (afternoon tea with neighbors and friends), so there was more room to experiment with new counter cultural styles. Tea gowns in 1880s had many of the elements that would become fashionable in 1890s, looser fit in bodice, natural form bustle and even balloon sleeves. Some British middle class/upper middle class women would dress in Aesthetic dress during 1880s in public society events, but they were not part of the upper echelon of high societies and no one dressed that way in high society evening events. The old money rich people also had more room to experiment with more unconventional fashion than nouveau rich, since their position in the exclusive high society was so much more secure, even if they were not as respectable (and adhering to the fashion ideals was about respectability) as expected of high society, their connections and status protected them from consequences. Money was not enough to secure your status, you needed connections.

[bratzforchris]

Latin and Pentagrams

Summary ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆: A night of studying turns into something much darker when you stumble upon an old Latin book and end up summoning something less than human

Pairing: Demon!Calum x feminine!reader

Warnings: 18+ content (this is much darker than my other works, minors dni!!!!!), horror/scary themes, religious-ish imagery, teratophilia (attraction to monsterfucking/non human characters), fingering/handjobs (f and m receiving), p in v, orgasm denial, size kink, overstimulation, pet names, thigh riding, temporary body modification, fluffy ending (i think that's all but let me know if i missed something!)

Word Count: 7.4k

Note: This is much different than what I normally write, so I hope you all enjoy! This was somewhat inspired by my conversation with a friend a few days ago about taking AP Latin in high school so! Inspiration! I plan on trying to get a few more Halloween fics up 😈

☾

“I actually can’t believe you’re studying tonight, Y/N.” Your best friend, Gaia, said, rolling her eyes and giving you a light, playful shove. 

“I have a big Latin exam tomorrow,” You sighed. “You know that.”

“You can have one night of fun, Y/N.” she said, giving you the “pleaseeeeee” eyes. 

“Latin is my hardest subject. Besides, I hate parties. I’d rather enjoy Halloween with a candy bar and some movies.” You mumbled, running your finger across the stick-and-poke pentagram tattoo you’d given yourself in eleventh grade. 

All your life, you had adored travel and studying the history and culture of other places. The day you’d gotten the offer to exchange at University of St. Andrews in Scotland was probably the best day you’d ever had. But there were days, like right now, where you wondered if it was worth the sacrifice. You didn’t get “breaks” as an exchange student, especially if you went to a university as prestigious as this one. Being a History major, with a minor in Classics, wasn’t quite the field for going easy on the studying. You would’ve loved to go to a smaller Halloween party with Gaia and a few other friends, but in your head, duty called. 

“All Hallows Eve, you mean? Be a proper Scot.” she chuckled in her Scottish accent. 

“Yeah, sorry. See you tomorrow?” You offered, shoving your glasses up the bridge of your nose. 

It was beginning to grow dark and the chilly, crisp breeze was blowing the orange and red leaves across the damp sidewalk, creating the perfect autumnal and slightly bewitching aura for the night. You two had been sitting on the steps of the main campus library, discussing your classes, the upcoming holidays and everything in between, but now, you could see the urge to go party etching itself onto your friend’s face. 

“Duh,” Gaia giggled, standing up and giving you a hug. “You going in there to study?” she questioned, craning her head towards the giant, regal-looking, cobblestone building. 

“Yeah…” You gnawed on your lip, antsy to get to your studying. “It’s the only place that has the books I need.”

“Well, don’t get to summoning any demons or spirits tonight,” she booped your nose. “When you do the ‘o, s, t, -mus, -tis, -nt’ thing for present tense endings it sounds like a fuckin’ pagan chant.”

“I won’t, I promise,” You hoisted your backpack up onto your shoulder. “Now, go have fun.” You turned Gaia’s shoulders so that she could march down the stone steps.

She waved goodbye to you, hurrying down the steps and across the quad. As you watched her leave, a feeling itched its way into your skin, burying deep inside your bones. It wasn’t quite melancholy, but you felt yourself wishing that you could tag along to the parties, even if you didn’t enjoy them all that much. 

You shook your head, getting rid of all those angsty thoughts. Giving your tattoo a quick rub with the top of your pointer finger, you marched up the stairs and unlocked the door, walking into the library, breathing in the smell of carpet and old, musty books. Being a student employee had its benefits some days, and access to the library after hours and on holidays was definitely one of them. You flicked on the light by the front desk and sat down, taking it all in for a few moments before pulling out your supplies. 

The library was old and had the aire of a medieval castle or church, what with its stained glass windows, large chandeliers over every table, and beautiful, soaring woodwork carvings. You kicked your old, crusty Converse up onto the desk and chuckled as you replayed Gaia’s warnings in your head. Maybe it was the difference in growing up in Scotland versus your American upbringing, but she was always much more superstitious and believed in the supernatural more than you did. 

For some reason, you remembered that old legend she had told you when you were a new student last year, something about how devil worshippers used to use this very library for their secret meetings back when the university first opened in the 1400s. You could almost believe now as you lit the candle on the desk with a lighter from your back pocket. The flame cast the desk in an eerie, orange glow, which added to the ambience of the flickering chandelier over table three and the blacked-out back of the library where you hadn’t turned the lights on yet. 

You shook the thoughts from your head and pulled your laptop and books from your bag. The last thing you needed right now was to get off track because you were thinking about some silly legends. You began to run through your conjugations and tenses, reciting the lines to yourself. The Latin rolled off your tongue making you sound rather scholarly and a bit haunting if you said so yourself.

“Ugh.” You grumbled when you reached the portion of the study guide on the history of Latin and paganism. 

You threw the book down on the desk rather angrily, but couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you read the bit about Latin in pagan chants and then looked down at the pentagram tattoo. It had been stupid at first, you poking the design into your skin just for the aesthetic. But now, the more you studied, the more you felt connected to the art. You decided to take a break from the studying, pulling your phone from your pocket and opening up Tumblr. The first thing you saw when you opened the app was a rather scandalous fanart as the header for someone’s fanfic. It showed a feminine reader fucking with a rather monstrous, demonic-looking creature. You smirked and bit your lip, crossing your thighs. You’d never tell anyone else, but monsterfucking was your guilty pleasure when it came to kink. There was just something about someone who wasn’t from this world using you for their own pleasure that turned you on. 

You sometimes wondered what that would actually be like. Would it be the same as fucking with a human? You shook your head and clicked your phone off, placing it face down on the desk. Standing up and stretching, you looked around the library. It was almost the perfect setting for Halloween night. You looked down at your abandoned textbook, remembering what you’d told Gaia about the books in here. Maybe you did need a different book to help you study. 

You pushed around the desk and trailed down the aisles of the library, using your phone as a flashlight, until you came to the 600s section where the university kept their history books. You stooped, running your pointer finger along the spines of the books. There were so many here that you could easily spend all night studying, but you knew you had found a perfect book when your finger landed on a thick, leather-bound book, spine inlaid with gold plating. 

You pulled it out, staring at the soft, leather cover. It didn’t have a title, simply a pentagram on it in gold that matched the spine. You sunk down, leaning your back against the bookshelf as you flipped the cover open. The pages were browned, stained, and written on parchment. You gnawed on your lip as you realized that this was a true, historical book. You flipped past the cover page and shined your flashlight on the back side. There, in swirly, beautiful cursive it read “authored 1416” by someone whose name you couldn’t make out. 

Why did your school’s library have this historical gem among the other, modern books? You shrugged, brushing it off and flipping through the book. The first few pages didn’t particularly catch your eye, just lines upon lines of Latin, as well as crude sketches of the gods. All stuff you had looked at and read before. You sighed, randomly flipping to the middle of the book. You felt a calling to that section for some reason. Maybe it was your boredom, or maybe it was the Halloween spirit bewitching you to do something different. You could see as you looked out the window while flipping the pages that it was completely dark now. The moon was high and full in the sky. You were definitely one for the aesthetics, and this was the perfect Halloween setting. 

Finally, you reached the middle of the book. It had taken you a while to turn the pages because they were such delicate parchment, but now, the image before you was worth it. It was different from the other drawings in the book. The sketch pictured a hulking man, about eight feet tall, with bulging muscles. He had soft curls and a devilish smirk about him in the picture. He would’ve looked almost normal, despite the height, if it weren’t for the pointed horns curving from his head and tail protruding from his rear. He had sharp, knifelike claws on his hands, but there was something about him. He was sinfully beautiful. 

The sketch was much more fine and detailed than the rest of the book. The Latin paragraph by his drawing was also much more detailed and beautiful than the sentences written previously. You noticed at the top of the page there was the name of your university, and you quickly read the paragraph, the Latin rolling off your tongue like you had been practicing for so many years. It was a set of directions, pointing you to the back of the library. 

You pushed off your haunches, walking back to where the book was pointing you. You almost wondered if a Wiccan practitioner before you had walked this very path through the library. It wasn’t hard to believe; the library was centuries old. As you walked, you cradled the open book in your arms. Gaia’s tale about the devil worshippers in the 1400s rang through your mind as you realized when this book had been authored while walking. You didn’t exactly believe in anything supernatural or even devil worshippers, but you couldn’t help feeling a slight chill in your bones once you had reached the back of the library. 

It was dark back here, much darker than the rest of the library. The only light shone from your dying phone’s battery as you hit a stone wall. You’d never been at the back of the library, and it was very clear hardly anyone else had either. The stones were damp and cool and cobwebs littered the corners. You read the passage again, running your hand along the rocks. You didn’t know why you were doing this. It was clear you had literally hit a wall. Maybe it was procrastinating that you had an exam tomorrow, or maybe it was the urge to do something for Halloween. 

You looked down at your tattoo once more before reading the instructions on the book. All it said was to look for the sixth stone, in the sixth row, of the sixth column. Your eyes searched the wall before finding the stone and pressing it. Nothing happened. You sighed, going to turn away from the wall and walk back to the desk. You couldn’t wait to rub it in Gaia’s face tomorrow that the “devil worshippers” of the library were nothing but an urban legend. 

Suddenly, the wall rumbled, two sides splitting to reveal a large wooden door with the same designs as the book carved into it. You stood in front of it, absolutely gaping. There was no way a stone wall had just split in half. There was no way there was another door inside the wall, leading to who knew what. You knew you should turn around, go back to the desk and continue your studies and then go home to your dorm. The last thing you needed was to get stuck in some old passage. 

But you didn’t. Your subconscious pulled you towards the door, and you pulled the rusty, metal lock open. You coughed as the dust blew towards your face, beaming your phone across the room you had stepped into. It was small and earthen, almost like a prison cell, but it had an almost magical vibe to it. At the far end lay what looked like a stone hearth, and your feet pulled you towards it. You looked down at the book as you walked. This was where it had led you to, and now there were further directions for you to follow. 

At the foot of the altar was another pentagram, and on the ledge were a few wax candles in bronze holders, a box of matches at their base. It was as if the matches had been placed there recently, but it seemed like no one had been in this room for decades. It lay dead silent and still, like a tomb. You picked up the box of matches, but nearly jumped out of your skin when the door that had led you here slammed shut. Looking down at your tattoo once more, you began to read off the passage from the book. The Latin spilled from your mouth like an incantation as you lit the candles and slid your phone into your back pocket. 

As you did so, a warm, sweet heat curled through your core, blossoming in your tummy before traveling down to your thighs. You didn’t know what you were expecting to happen. Were you actually trying to summon a fucking demon? The feeling was wonderful and exhilarating, and you felt called to continue the chant as it ran down the page. Surely if you actually summoned the being there would be a way to banish him…right? You ignored the warnings on the page, written in red ink that looked suspiciously like blood. Demons probably weren’t even real; if anything, you’d get a good laugh at this later. 

As you finished the words on the page, your skin began to prickle with goosebumps, the hairs standing tall. That had to be a coincidence. There was no way anything was actually happening. You were making it up, your mind bewitched with Gaia’s folklore and the spirit of All Hallows’ Eve. If warning bells were supposed to be going off in your head, they weren’t. The only sensation you had was your heart fluttering with excitement. 

Just as you spoke the last word, an unnatural, purple fog flitted through the room, swirling about the chamber and ruffling the pages of the old book. It curled faster and harder until all you could see was purple smog, and the sconces on the wall firing to life on one-by-one, without you lighting them. Here you were, alone in a sealed chamber that no one alive knew about, summoning god knows what. Gaia’s playful joke about bringing a demon to life floated through your mind. Despite not being one to be superstitious, something supernatural was happening in this room. You should’ve felt scared, terrified, horrified, any antonym for excitement, but you didn’t. 

As if you had been studying the passage for weeks, the Latin chant flowed from your mouth like you had memorized it, even though you’d only read it once. You repeated the lines five more times for a total of six with your eyes closed. When you opened them, the smoke had cleared somewhat. The only wisp of purple that you saw was slowly seeping out of the walls, being edged by an invisible wind. It curled towards the middle of the room, twisting in a tornado like shape, further and further towards the ceiling. You didn’t know why, but you covered your face with your hands. Maybe it was fear of nothing actually happening. You had fallen asleep at the desk while studying and would wake up in a few moments to nothing but an empty page on your computer. 

After a few moments, you uncovered your eyes, seeing that the smoke was beginning to fade away. All of what had just happened was blocked out when you noticed the absolutely enormous figure standing in the middle of the etched pentagram, the sconces casting him in a warm, orange glow. You fisted your eyes once more to just make sure you were really seeing what you thought you were. The half-human, half-mythological creature came into view, standing before you regally. He was even more intimidating in person as he stared down at you with dark eyes, but the only way your body responded was through a heated moan. 

The beast was absolutely huge. His shoulders were nearly as broad as you were tall, with bulging muscles and unholy pecs. His skin was tanned and littered with inked tattoos, depicting battles he’d won and scenes from his tales. His black curls fell to his pointed ears, serving as a bed for his red horns. Your eyes caught on them for a moment, taking in how they were wider at the base but curled upwards, ending in knifelike daggers that scraped the ceiling. He was probably nearly eight feet tall, covered in muscle all over, but the thing that really made you heat up was his face. 

His chocolate-brown eyes looked you up and down curiously as his plump, pink lips curved into a smirk that started at his cupid’s bow. Whoever this demon was, his face was littered with a bit of stubble and despite his uncanny appearance, you longed to kiss his face all over, feeling the hair and telling him just how beautiful he was. He was like something one could only dream of. 

His chest was heaving with heavy, agitated breaths. His fists were clenched in front of him, but you could see the deep, black claws that jutted from his fingertips. Although his skin was a completely normal shade for a human, it was clear he was closer to a beast than any person. His legs were thick and muscular, but appeared human under the crude, burgundy, fabric shorts he wore. His bare feet were like that of an animal, more clawlike, the same type as his hands. The thing that stole your gaze the most, though, was the red tail, tipped with a pointed heart that protruded from his rear, flicking with arousal as the tent in his shorts grew. 

“I…” You started, whimpering slightly. 

You weren’t scared per say, but the demon was rather intimidating, both in stature and how capable he looked of pleasure. He cocked his head, his brown eyes growing lustful at the noises falling from your lips. The adrenaline of the situation had worn off and now you were gasping for air as you realized you had just summoned a magical, sinful creature. The demon stepped closer to you, tail curling behind him, eyes trained on you. Your body responded to his gaze by heating up, the warmth curling through your belly as you surveyed him. You didn’t question your body’s arousal towards him; you were so syrupy-sweet with desire that you paid no mind. 

“It was you who summoned me, angel?” the demon asked once he was about three feet away from you. 

His voice rattled through the stone chamber, a deliciously deep bass that snuck its way into your bones, settling there. You clenched your thighs together in your sweatpants as your clit began to throb with horniness. You craned your neck slowly, eyes traveling up his spectacular body until you met his face. Even with your neck leaned back so far, you just barely could meet the creature’s eyes. 

“It was me,” You admitted, gnawing on your lip to keep any unwanted noises from escaping. “I…wanted to.” You said, picking your words carefully, fearful of how such a beast would react to what you said. 

The chamber fell dead for a moment, the only sound being the demon’s breathing as he looked you up and down. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, or simply just curious. You wondered if he knew how someone summoned him, or if he simply just popped up wherever the spell called. Your question was answered when he spoke, that beautiful voice flowing from him once more. 

“The book told you to summon me?” he asked, raising a brow. 

You could tell now that he was more curious than anything, surprise making its way onto his features as you studied his face. You glanced around the room, mulling over your answer before speaking. You thought of the way you had skipped the Halloween parties, opting to sit in the library alone, the way you’d unusually ignored your studies to find another book, the way you’d skipped the rest of the book to look at the picture of the demon before you, and then follow the directions on it. 

“Yes,” You said, your voice shaking. “I felt called to summon you.”

“Do you believe in the supernatural, baby witch?” he asked you. 

“I…I don’t know,” You didn’t even recognize the voice that was coming from you, the words high and tinged with a mixture of fear and arousal. “I'm just letting the Halloween spirit get to me!” You said, backing against the altar. 

The devil smirked, pushing his body against your own, pinning you to the altar. “Sweetheart,” he started. “I think a little more than the Halloween spirit calls you to summon a sex demon.” he growled. 

The noise rumbled up from his chest and you tentatively lifted your head to meet his eyes. They had darkened to an almost black color, full of lust. His lips had a hungry look plastered across them, smirking when he met your eyes. His hulking body blocked out the light from the candles as he stood in front of you, casting his body in a warm glow. The light glinted off his white, razor-sharp fangs as he smirked, licking his lips with his forked, black tongue. 

“I wanted to know what fucking a demon is like…” You mumbled.

“What was that, angel?” he asked, grabbing your chin in his hand and lifting it to meet his eyes. “You will not mumble when you talk to me.”

“I wanted to know what fucking a demon is like!” You yelped, backing impossibly further, your body jolting with fear, but a wetness growing in your underwear nonetheless. 

Your emotions were an absolute jumble inside your chest. You felt fearful and nauseous with horror, but your desire to know the sinful creature was epically stronger. The dampness in your panties was only becoming more prominent, clinging to your skin and agitating your clit. The creature had caged you in with his humongous body, looking down at you. 

“Well then, I’m happy to fulfill your desires.” the demon cooed. 

He was practically salivating as he looked at you, moving his large claws to hold your body in place. He gave off such an air of power that despite the physical filling of the room, his personality was filling the chamber so tightly, blocking out everything that wasn’t him. 

“I won’t hurt you, baby witch.” he said with an unexpected softness, stroking your cheek. 

His gentleness shocked you, removing the fear from your body. As his body pressed ever closer to yours, you could smell his delicious scent, and you longed to bury your face in his glorious chest and never let go. The scent was like that of cigarettes and cherries, intoxicatingly sweet and a bit smoky.  

“I’m not a witch,” You whispered, voice shaky. “You…you have me confused with someone else.”

“You summoned me by reading the Latin, I’m quite literally a demon, and you have this,” he reeled off, stroking the claw of his thumb over your pentagram tattoo. “All of that qualifies you to be a witch.”

The creature wasn’t really lying. All of those things qualified you to be a witch, or at least a beginner in practicing magic. You longed to go back in time and heed Gaia’s warnings about the supernatural and its creatures, but for now, you were enjoying the way this half-man, half-beast far too much. You nodded your head in a sort of acceptance, looking into his deep, chocolate eyes. 

You weren’t sure if he smelled the fear melt from your body, or if the acceptance was written on your face, but the creature pinned you to the altar with his claws, his hips pressing against your upper body. He wrapped his tail around your upper thigh, almost like a garter, but to your surprise, it wasn’t cold and slimy like you had anticipated. It was warm and the heat made your body seize with arousal. You slowly relaxed into the touch, humming softly. His body was hotter than any human should be, both sexually and temperature-wise. 

“Do you have a name?” You asked him softly, melting in his grasp. 

The book had just called him “The Powerful One”, but if he was going to call you names like “angel” and “baby witch”, you thought it only fair to have one to use for him. He looked at you curiously, cocking his head as he searched your expression. 

“I can’t share my name with you, pet,” he hummed. The noise sounded almost like that of an enormous lion, akin to a purr. He used his right hand to cup your face with intention, his claws scraping softly against the nape of your neck. “It allows those who know the demon too much power.”

“Oh…” You said shyly and a bit sadly. 

After a moment though, the thought fleeted from your mind. The demon’s name was flowing further and further from you as you rested comfortably into his soft, burning hand. You blushed as you wondered if the rest of his body was like his chest and hands. Would he leave your own heat burning with affection?

“Angel,” he crooned, stroking your cheek to bring you back to reality. “I have been alive a millennia. That allows one many, many names. Rex, Dominus Potens, Magnūs. They are of your choosing." His voice was gentle as he spoke to you, almost like he was a human man speaking to his girlfriend, rather than a creature that spent his life in the depths of hell. 

“King, Powerful Master, and The Great One?” You looked to the beast as the Latin translations sloppily rolled off your tongue. 

He nodded, a soft smirk painting his lips. You would’ve expected a sex demon to be much rougher and less kind with you, but his softness was like that of a giant teddy bear. The soft personality that was stored inside that monstrous body just made you even more hungry for him. You wished to grind yourself against his body with erotic moans, but you chose to gently stroke his abdomen that was at eye level with you. A happy noise grumbled its way up from the devil’s throat, encouraging you to continue your motion. 

“Dominus…” You said softly. 

The demon gave you a nod of approval, making you utter the word again. This time it fell more smoothly from your lips, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes against the altar, wanting to know this magical beast. You were much too short to reach his lips, so you settled for puckering your own and leaving a kiss against his soft breast. His body heat ignited your own and you pushed yourself into him, knowing he would catch you. 

You longed to kiss him, and the creature could sense the feeling from radiating from your body. He was much too tall to stoop and kiss you though, his horns scraping against the ceiling, so he opted to pick you up by the waist, settling you on his hip, almost like a small child. Once he was sure you were set comfortably, he didn’t give you a moment’s more to think before his lips were on yours. 

The beast’s kisses were just like his personality; smooth and subtle, but with an underlying tone of something much more…promiscuous. Even though he was less than human, his empathy was like a wonderful, respectful man. He seemed to understand how small and fragile you were compared to him and he took that into consideration as he kissed you, his muscles bulging as he held you. He kissed you in such a frenzy that you felt high off his love, desperate for your next fix. 

You whined, grinding yourself into his hip as a whine escaped your mouth. To this, the demon deepened the kiss, turning it into a full makeout. You felt his mouth curve into a smirk as you kissed him more fervently. His forked tongue was providing you with overwhelming pleasure as whimpers and gasps fell from your lips. 

Whoever this demon was, his mouth tasted absolutely sinful. You had the urge to just let him rail you until you were beyond fucked-out. Your arms were wrapped around his thick neck as you cried out, practically riding his thigh. The feeling of the fabric rubbing against your clit, as well as the wetness in your panties made the movement pleasurable and you could tell the creature felt the same way. He was nearly growling, loud, erotic rumbles that burst from his chest in monstrous cries. 

“Please,” You panted out. “Please, fuck me, magnūs.”

“Are you ready for dick already, baby witch? Am I that pleasurable?” he asked with a smirk. 

You blushed, knowing your horniness was so visible, but you couldn’t be bothered as the demon’s own seductive noises just made your folds even more wet. “Yes! I am!” You cried out, riding his thigh frantically, trying to get yourself off. 

The demon placed your back against the altar once more, one of his hands holding you in place and the other gripping you under the ass. “So, you want to know what it’s like to fuck a sex demon, angel?” he asked with a smirk, running his tongue over his pearly fangs. “Need to get off on my unholy cock? Do you think you’ll be able to take it all?”

You whined against him, eyes traveling to the tent in his pants you had seen earlier. It was only growing larger, flicking underneath his crude shorts in unison with his maroon tail. The demon snapped his fingers, and suddenly, he was completely naked. You could now completely see his cock, and a moan immediately left you. He was already leaking pre-cum, the deep red organ pulsing with arousal. You had the urge to immediately drop to your knees and suck him off, offering up worship as his cum poured down your throat. 

“Do you think you can take it, baby witch? Or should I go back to where I came from? Forget this little rendezvous ever happened.” he chuckled deeply. 

You knew you would have a hard time fitting more than the head of his cock in your mouth. He was as thick around as your bicep, and nearly as long as your lower leg. Even the monsterfucking porn you looked at and read sometimes hadn’t prepared you for him. The sight should’ve made you nervous about trying to fit him into your cunt, but it didn’t. You simply longed for him to insert himself into your heat, fucking you until you couldn’t take it anymore as you worshipped him. 

“You came looking for me because you’re a slut, pet,” the devil teased you. “You love the idea of being stuffed full of demon cock, don’t you?” 

It was like he was reading your mind, but then again, you were staring so blatantly at his dick, practically salivating. You began to grind your pussy against his chest as he held you, begging him to touch you in any way he possibly could. 

“I can smell that you’re wet for me, baby witch,” he teased, but a tone of love laced his voice. “Are you ready to be split open on my dick?”

You nodded so quickly your head almost fell off. “Do more than that. Ruin my cunt. I’ve waited years to be fucked on a monstrous cock like yours.” You said, fluttering your lashes. 

“Angels aren’t supposed to be filthy,” he hummed. “But if you desire, I’m happy to obey your wish.”

The demon unwrapped his tail from your leg and used it to slowly tickle and tease your wetness through your pants, before he suddenly snapped his fingers once more, leaving you completely naked as well. He continued to tease your pussy as he craned his neck, beginning to softly suckle on your nipples until they were standing tall. He looked into your eyes solemnly when he lifted his head, brown eyes filled with lust. 

“Do you understand what it means to be taken by me, pet?” he cocked his head. “You will never be rid of me after this night. I will be embedded in you forever.” 

“Don’t care,” You whined, shoving yourself into him. “Just need you to fuck me now, Dominius!” You cried, beginning to give his cock that was only growing larger with arousal a handjob, stroking the veiny dick up and down. 

“Oh angel, you’re such a slut,” he chuckled, sliding one hand to insert into your heat. “Dom’t even care about the effects fucking a demon will have on you.”

You whined, practically riding his fingers already, to which he offered teases of how wet you were for him. Your hands had fallen away from his dick at this point, so pleased by his fingers that you tangled your fingers in his soft, black curls. 

“Need you, Rex. Need your cock.” You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at how sexually frustrated you were. 

“Such a needy baby witch, aren’t you?” he hummed. 

You nodded quickly, tugging on his curls slightly. You were so full of lust and arousal that you would’ve said yes or agreed to anything he asked. The demon added another finger to your hole, slowly sliding them in and out. He used his tail to alternate caressing your face and belly, humming softly. 

“You need preparation for my cock.” he told you softly, explaining in a sort of way why he hadn’t pushed you to the wall and fucked you senseless. 

You slid your hand back down to his shaft and ran your thumb over his head. His pre-cum was warm and wet, practically drenching your entire hand. You tentatively brought your hand to your face and licked it slowly and sensually, savoring the delicious, sinful taste of him. At this, your demon made a pleased noise, pumping your pussy faster. 

“You need more than that, pet,” the beast told you. “Should I fuck your mouth so you can drink it like a sinner drinking holy water?”

You nodded so quickly, eager for him to go through with his words. “Oh please, magnūs.” You whined. 

By this point, you were riding the demon’s fingers, enjoying the way his claws felt inside your sensitive, wet cunt. He wasn’t letting you get off that easy, though. Suddenly the creature pulled out and gazed at you with a playful grin. 

“You didn’t think I was letting you get away with cumming on my fingers and not on my dick, did you, baby witch?” he raised a brow, taunting and challenging you. “I’m going to fill you with so much demon cock that you won’t know how to think and you will cum more times that you can fucking count.” 

Your devil lifted you so that your pening was placed directly over his enormous length. You could feel your wetness dripping onto him, making the organ twitch with pleasure. He was so tall and big that you had to wrap your arms around his torso as he held you under the ass, claws digging into your plump flesh. 

“Are you ready for my monstrous cock, angel?” he asked you, spreading your legs wider and placing his tip against your tiny, tight hole. 

“Yes! Please, Dominus.” You cried out, rocking yourself against it. 

Any of the fear or hesitation you had felt earlier melted away as the demon began to insert only the head of his dick into you. Even with his fingering, it took quite a few moments for him to fit all the way inside. You gasped out in a mixture of pain and pleasure once he was fully inside. It was unlike anything you had felt before. The creature’s dick was stretching your pussy beyond its limits, making you dig your nails into his skin. 

“Shhh, take it like the filthy angel you are,” the demon cooed, thrusting deeper into you. “You wanted this, I know you can do it, baby witch.” he coached you. 

You rocked your hips around him, trying to accommodate his massiveness. The only things falling from your lips were senseless sounds and whimpers as your body got adjusted to the feeling. “Feels amazing.” You slurred out, intoxicated with the ecstasy of him. 

“Your poor little pussy is going to be absolutely wrecked, pet.” he chuckled, beginning to suck on your neck as he rode you. 

The devil kept inserting himself into you, moving just wonderfully so that you could feel his dick nearly rearranging your insides. You didn’t know how much of him was left for you to take. Your walls were aching with the effort of taking him, but your demon was making you feel so good. He had taken such great care of your body and made it his own. You stared into his lustful eyes as he came suddenly, the same tingling sensation as when you had tasted his pre-cum filling your insides. 

“Oh god,” You panted out. “Magnūs, please.” Your nails were wrecking his back as he held you, his tail tickling in between your thighs for even more pleasure in your sensitive area.  

“Your turn, baby witch,” he cooed. “Cum all over my demon cock.”

You immediately did as he said, releasing so fucking quickly. The walls of your cunt tightened around his length, making you cry out. Your climax made your demon moan out, fucking you harder. With one last thrust, he shoved the rest of his cock into you, making you scream out in pleasure. You were fuller than you’d ever been in your life, and it felt amazing. The devil made a few erotic groans himself, shoving your hips down onto his dick to get the right angle for fucking you mindless. 

You could feel his balls, bigger than any you’d ever seen, slapping against your ass, leaving the most wonderful stinging sensation. His tail slowly snuck to your slit, tickling your electric spot while pounded into you. 

“It has been so long since someone summoned me,” he whispered huskily into your ear. “Thank you, angel.”

Just as he said that, he unloaded into you, your pussy being flooded with his cum. This time was more than the last and you screamed with pleasure, digging your nails into your back. The whole scene was hot enough that you immediately came around him, your walls clenching. The triple orgasm was better than any other man or toy could provide you. As soon as you finished, you slumped against his abdomen, panting heavily. 

The demon chuckled, slowly sliding his cock out of you and sinking to the ground with his back against the wall, still holding you. His dick had softened and you were laying over it now, enjoying the warmth. He was much warmer than any human man was, and it was an enjoyable sensation. He stroked your back with his claws, giving you a wonderful massage, while his tail rubbed up and down your legs. 

“You did wonderfully, pet.” he praised you, a purr coming from his mouth. 

You blushed, going to snuggle into him but pushing when you felt yourself stopped against his chest. You slowly reached a hand up and touched your head with wonder. “I…I have horns!” You exclaimed. 

“Did you read the terms and conditions at all, baby witch?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“No,” You admitted shyly. “You were just too sexy for me to care.”

Your demon laughed, kissing your forehead. “Don’t inflate my ego anymore than it already is, angel. But yes, there are certain terms and conditions. Your small, human body isn’t made to take a cock like mine, so my cum changes you to accommodate it. Look behind you.” he offered, giving your ass a smack. 

“I have a tail!” You said excitedly, stroking the new, pink addition to your body. 

The demon chuckled at how childlike with happiness you were. But he appeared a bit sad as he stroked your body up and down. “This isn’t permanent, angel. The summoning isn’t, so neither are the side effects.” he said, voice laced with sadness. 

“Wait…you mean I’m never going to see you again?” tears pricked at your eyes. 

You loved this demon with your whole heart and soul and you knew you were meant to be with him. That was the only explanation for everything that had happened this evening; the studying, the call to the book, the urge to summon this wonderful creature. 

“You can summon me whenever you like, pet. But the summoning only lasts an hour,” he smiled softly. “After that, I go back to the underworld and your body goes back to normal.”

“But what if I don’t want that?” You were beginning to cry. “I want to be with you. Please don’t leave.”

The demon petted your hair, kissing your face softly. “You’ll see me again, angel. Summon me whenever you like.”

You craned your neck and began to kiss him fervently, not wanting him to leave you. “Please, I need you.” You moaned. 

“Haven’t had your fill of me?” he chuckled, beginning to makeout with you. 

You continued to kiss, enjoying your new features, until the hour was up. You said goodbye to your demon, kissing his lips softly and promising to summon him again as soon as possible. But just as he was dissolving into the same purple smoke, he looked at you solemnly before speaking. 

“Calum. That’s my name, baby witch. Call me Calum.”

“Goodbye, Calum.” You whispered as he disappeared. 

Your tail and horns disappeared with your lover, leaving you fully clothed in the empty, stone room, just like before. You clutched your hands to heart, promising yourself that you would summon Calum again as soon as possible. 

✯ One Year Later ✯

You excitedly stood in your apartment, the same book from last year clutched tightly in your arms. This was the final time you would ever summon Calum for an hour. You both loved the wild, sexual nights, but you missed your demon during the day. You two had spent the last year practicing magic, with Calum’s getting just strong enough for him to pass as human for just under a year. He would be able to be his true form at home with you, but he had gotten so skilled that he would now be able to pass as your human boyfriend to your friends and family. 

You chanted the spell just like that Halloween last year, but this time, you used your demon’s real name when you called upon him–Calum Hood. The same purple smoke appeared just like all those times before, but when the fog dissipated, a “human” man stood in front of you. Calum was about 6’2”, with those kind brown eyes that you loved so dearly. He still had his luscious curls and beautiful tattoos, but the horns, claws, and tail were gone for now. 

He immediately swept you off your feet, spinning you around. “I missed you, baby witch.” he hummed, running a finger over your same pentagram tattoo. 

“I missed you more, Cal.” You sniffled, on the verge of tears as you realized you would get to see Calum every day now. 

You knew in your heart that Calum was still of the underworld, and that was what you loved about him, but you were ready for a new start. To be able to show off the soul you loved oh-so-dearly to the world. He would still have to go back to the underworld every now and then, but you were so happy you didn’t care. 

“Don’t forget that I’ll always be your demon.” he smirked as you buried your face in his neck, breathing in that same, sinful scent of cigarettes and cherries.    

[lunastrophe]

Drow Fashion 🕷️✨ About Spider Silk - Part 1

Everything you may want - or may not want - to know about spider silk in (mostly Lolth-sworn) drow culture and fashion. In this part you will find information about:

sources of spider silk,

basic uses and meaning of spider silk in drow culture.

🕷️ Various Types Of Silk – among surfacers, silk spun by spiders is generally not widely used, but in the Underdark, spider silk is not excessively hard to obtain. It is extremely light, very elastic, durable and often has many other extraordinary properties, especially after being imbued with magic. In consequence, the Underdark silk market is probably vast.

Raw spider silk can vary in quality, depending mainly on the spider species it comes from – also, most spiders are naturally able to produce several types of silk that vary in thickness and adhesiveness. Some threads are suitable for producing delicate, transparent or semi-transparent materials. Some are useful for weaving thicker fabrics, carpets and tapiseries. Silk waste, after being properly processed, is also useful – for example, for making silken threads and fabrics of lesser quality.

🕷️ Silk Farming? – silk can be obtained from webbings, cocoons or egg sacks of wild spiders, or it can be extracted directly from caught or freshly killed specimens of various sizes. Such methods are generally time-consuming, though, and often dangerous.

Silk farming is probably quite popular in the Underdark, allowing to produce silk on a larger scale while maintaining better control over its quantity, quality and properties. Silk farms can contain thousands of more or less domesticated spiders that can belong to species best suited for producing silk.

Headcanon warning - silk farming is not mentioned in drow lore sources, I borrowed this idea from historical attempts to produce spider silk on a larger scale. So far, we humans are bad at this, mainly because we cannot figure out how to domesticate spiders (they like to kill each other, so it is hard to keep them together) and how to make them produce the kind of silk we want them to produce (every spider produces several types of silk and only some are suitable for making threads and textiles)... but I bet that drow would figure out how to make this work.

(If anyone is curious about this topic, I was inspired mainly by this article).

🕷️ Free-Range And Cruelty-Free* – silk can be obtained without harming the spiders and in case of more intelligent species, even with their explicit permission. Such things are probably especially important to Lolth-sworn drow who are forbidden to cage, mistreat or kill arachnids, or even to disturb inhabited spiderwebs.

*Only in relation to spiders, though. Underdark drow are probably not overly concerned with well-being of slaves and serfs tasked with gathering and processing silk...

Silk of spiders that live in temples and other places sacred to the Spider Queen, as well as silk of abyssal arachnids that live in Lolth’s domain, is most likely highly valued among worshippers of Lolth – especially among her priestesses.

🕷️ Uses Of Spider Silk – drow use silk to make armour, weapons, clothing, domestic and ceremonial textiles, high-quality strings, lines, nets and tents, and various works of craft and art. Spider webs, often calcified with magic, are used in creation of architecture ornaments or sometimes even whole structures like bridges, passages or buildings.

Among Lolth-sworn drow, spider silk is closely connected to worship of Lolth and is widely present in Lolthite temples and shrines – just like living spiders. It is said that Lolth herself favours silk and that when she takes the guise of a drow, she appears as a lithe drow woman dressed in a gossamer gown woven from spider silk.

Spider silk is also useful as a spell component and it can be used to craft magical items. For example, silk of phase spider and strands of ether are needed to create a portable hole – wondrous item that looks like a circle of black cloth.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[gucciwins]

an ex brings stories and mistrust

Word count: 3440

A/N: you asked for angst for some reason so here it is. i am so happy to know you still love bel and harry as much as i do. 🤍

Warnings: angst, jealousy, ex-boyfriend

read love on tour series 

“I’m going out tonight,” you tell Harry as you steal a sip of his coffee. You love the smell but can never find yourself enjoying a full cup.

“Done being a homebody,” he teases.

You roll your eyes; after being home in London for a few days, you’ve been enjoying staying in your house but also at Harry’s. It was larger than yours, yet it felt cozy because he was here.

“Haha, a few friends are in the city and want to grab dinner, maybe karaoke,” you share, “what we do after is still up in the air.”

“You can always sing one of mine,” as he takes a blueberry out of her hand.

“Mhm…too bad I already have my song.”

“It’s a classic. You sing ‘you’re so vain’ perfectly every time. Always leaves me in awe.”

You feel your face warm up at his compliments. There had been a lot of begging for him to get you to sing in front of his friends one night. It helped. Most of them were a few tequila shots in. Although it is something Mitch brings every time you see him suggesting new songs, you should try to karaoke for them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, H.”

Harry frowns, wanting to spend more time with you this morning, but he knows you have a fitting for a red carpet. You’re working with an upcoming designer Sarai told you about,  a Hispanic designer with beautiful looks incorporating designs from their culture. You just had to work with them; of course, they were happy to agree.

“Send me photos, please,” he mutters against your lips.

“Promise.”

You go to pull away, but Harry holds your waist, deepening the kiss wanting to give you something that would hopefully want to make you stay home, although he knew it was a losing battle. You pull away breathless, a smile breaking out as you see Harry’s puffy pink lips.

“I love you, H.”

“Te amo, Bel.”

_____

There was no studio today, and Harry decided to use the day to catch up on reading a few books Bel had recommended he got two chapters in when he was inspired to grab his journal to write these lyrics before they escaped him. Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt his phone ring, he dropped his pen thinking it was Bel but to his surprise saw it was Naomi, your best friend.

“Hi Naomi,” he greets.

“Hiya H, where’s our girl? She’s ignoring my calls,” Naomi asks, straight to the point.

“She had a fitting and was going out tonight.”

“Did she? Say with who?”

“Oh, friends in the city. Don’t think she gave me any names.”

Harry peeked at the time on his phone and saw it was close to six pm. The day honestly had gotten away from him. He would need to cook himself dinner.

“Heard Dylan was in the city.” Harry frowns, hearing Sarai whisper to Naomi.

“Who?”

“Dylan O'Brien,” Naomi tells him, “a good friend.”

“Who’s still in love with her,” Sarai inputs.

Harry hears Naomi shush Sarai,” sorry they’ve been drinking.”

“Why would Dylan be in love with Bel?” Harry had never been more confused. He knew you saw Dylan as a good friend; you would go as far as saying he was one of your closest friends in the industry.

Naomi sighed, knowing they messed up.

“It’s not–shit. H, you have to understand this was years ago.”

“What was?”

“Dylan and Bel dated,” she confesses.

And Harry feels his heart drop.

How did he not know this? How could you not share this information with him?

“Listen, it was after their first film together. It was never made public and is something she really doesn’t share. She broke up with Dylan because he was ready to get serious and take it to the next step, and she felt she wasn’t there. He was heartbroken after, but he was always supporting her.”

“He didn’t want to break up, did he?”

Naomi sighed, “no, he fought her on it, but she was set on her decision.”

“Did she love him?”

Silence.

“Naomi, please!”

“Of course she did. But it’s different, H. You have to believe me. She loves you. I’ve never seen her this happy or in love, and I’ve known her all her life. You make her shine. She’s one hundred percent herself when she’s with you.”

Naomi sharing this brings him a bit of comfort, but he’s left with the question of why you hadn’t told him Dylan was an ex. He was sure there were no secrets between each other, but now he wasn’t so sure. Harry shared about his past heartbreaks and his hand in breaking hearts. You had shared little, telling him that you had two serious relationships that were not worth talking about because you had all wanted something different.

“I don’t get why she wouldn’t tell me.”

“She doesn’t dwindle in the past. Think she’s lived there long enough.”

Harry sighs because he understands, in a way, he doesn’t know what it is like to be alone for years or not to have a loved one to seek out for comfort to share childhood memories with, but he has been faced with loss and knows how hard it can be. He does not understand why she’d keep her relationship with Dylan a secret. It’s as if there was something more she wasn’t telling him.

“I’m going to ask her about it,” Harry tells Naomi.

He hears her sigh, “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

“Bye, Naomi.”

“Harry, please be kind. I know this isn’t the easiest way to find something out, but don’t react when you’re speaking with her,”

He sighs, knowing she’s right. Harry doesn’t know what would have happened if he found out through you, but for now, he had to feel his emotions, and he’d talk about this news when you came home to him tonight.

“Of course.”

The phone drops against the cushion on his couch. There’s too much on his mind for him to rest in peace. Harry decides to meditate as the best way to work through his clouded mind. It works for some time until he feels the urge to check his phone, so he leans across where he let it fall, his eyes bugging out to see how late it had turned and you had yet to turn up. He didn’t mean to bother you when you were out, but he was concerned because, for the past few days, you’ve been coming home to him.

He sighs in relief when he hears your cheery voice after the second ring.

“Hi baby,” he breathes out. “Are you coming back here tonight?”

You sigh, coming out low. “Sorry, H. We came back to my place with some friends. You’re welcome to come,” you offer, feeling bad about making him wait for you when you could have texted him earlier in the evening.

“Hurry back. We’re going to lose,” Harry hears Dylan call for you.

Harry tenses, forgetting that you had even asked him a question. “H?”

“No, uh, early morning tomorrow,” he lies.

“Lunch tomorrow, then?” You counter. “Vinny’s?”

“I’ll be at our table,” he promises.

Harry heads to bed with a heavy heart but is thankful he will see you tomorrow.

____

He had arrived early, wanting to have your food ready for when you arrived. You always loved eating the same meal here, the ravioli with butternut squash filling. It was good, and Harry always ended up stealing a bit or two from you when you claimed he needed to try it.

As he waited for you, he was trying to decide how to approach the topic or wondered if Naomi had already sent her a warning. A few minutes later, a large commotion in front of the restaurant caught his attention. There are people gathered around, and he catches a glimpse of your face making him quick to leave his seat and go help you with the crowd. To his surprise, Dylan helped part the crowd and guided you inside with a hand on the small of your back. The group stayed outside as Harry watched you turn to hug Dylan in gratitude. You stood there speaking with him before Dylan shook his head, leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. Harry was confused. You showed up with him, and even more that you managed to catch the attention of a crowd.

“Hey,” you greet him with a breathless grin.

“You alright?” He checks in.

“Saw that,” you breathe out. “It was fine. Dylan was there to help.”

Harry hums in response, trying to think what he wants to say.

“Did you order?”

“Should be here in a few minutes.”

You drop the menu, flashing him a huge smile. “You’re an angel, H.”

He sits silently, letting you start to tell him about your day when he interrupts your story about Sally burning pancakes last night. “Why did you show up with Dylan?”

You frown, leaning back a bit as he surprised you with the sudden question. “He stayed the night, and I had let Emerson borrow my car for the day, and I had forgotten, and he offered.”

“You stayed with him alone!” Harry exclaims.

“No, Sally, Nina, Saoirse, Tom, and even Sarah stopped by last night for game night.”

Harry huffs, “you could have called me.”

You grimace, “he was heading this way, and you had a meeting this morning.”

“And the paparazzi just so happened to know you were headed here.”

You frown, not liking what he was insinuating. “H, what are you saying?”

He shrugs, taking a drink of his water.

“Do you think Dylan called the paparazzi?” You sound surprised he’d accuse your friend of this.

“We’ve eaten here how many times?” He reminds you, not once have you had a run-in with paparazzi. “Funny he offers you a ride, and you’re conveniently papped together.”

You sit back in your seat, not sure what he meant. He’s been papped out from time to time, sometimes with you and sometimes when he’s out with other friends. There’s this world you live in, and how easy it is to get lost in your own world behind closed doors. Forgetting that others around you will do anything to get a glimpse inside.

“Harry, come on.”

He shakes his head, “forget it.”

After that, lunch is tense, little to no conversation is had, no matter how much you try. He checks his phone more often, making you fall silent. It’s the quietest meal you’ve had, and it makes you upset not knowing what you did wrong. Harry finished his meal before you but didn’t rush you. Not feeling comfortable continuing to eat, you decide you’re finished placing your napkin on top and offering him a small smile. He asks for the check, and soon you’re off, following Harry to his car, wondering if he’s going to take you home or back to his place.

You don’t dare ask.

It’s not until he takes a left turn instead of a right do you sit back in relief, knowing he still wants you around. Even if it is only to sit in silence.

He parks the car. You sit there together in silence, not sure where you stand. You reach out to squeeze his hand to comfort you and let out a breath of relief when he lets you.

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

You’re not sure what conversation awaits you inside, but it’s Harry, and you know together, you can work through anything.

______

Harry is quiet as he lets the kettle warm up. You set your bag on the couch before following after him. You can see he’s tense as he grabs two mugs from the cabinets.

“Need any help?” You offer itching to do something.

“I got it.”

You sit there waiting patiently because you know Harry will bring it up soon. He can only hold something in for so long before he pops, and you know you won’t have to wait long.

Harry pours a cup of chamomile tea into a floral mug you painted when you did a ceramics class together during the holidays. It was his favorite, which is why it resided in his home and not yours.

“I know,” he whispers, breaking the silence you were in.

You stare at him, confused, unsure of what he is referring to. He knows what?

“Sorry, H? I don't know what you mean.”

Harry pushes away his mug before turning to look at you. His eyes look lost and hurt, and you want to fix that; you’re just not sure you know how to.

His frown deepens, “I know—I know about him.”

Harry says him with so much distaste that you’re not sure what he’s referring to. “H,”

“Dylan—that you dated Dylan,” he breathes out, and your face falls in surprise. Harry takes in your reaction and knows Naomi wasn’t lying that you dated Dylan and didn’t bother to tell Harry he was an ex, only claiming he was a close friend.

“Harry,” you whisper, hoping he’ll let you explain.

“You told me he was a friend.”

“He is.”

Harry scoffs, “you can’t be friends with your ex, not when they’re still in love with you.”

You can’t believe he would say throw that in your face when he’s notorious for being friendly with his exes and having them out for shows. Instead of arguing, you allow yourself to take a deep breath and remain seated, hoping he’ll let you explain.

“Can I tell you about this past relationship, so you’re not only running on what you’ve heard?”

“Are you insinuating your friends are lying?” He bites back.

Naomi and Sarai are the only ones that know, besides a few close friends of his. You’re not upset with them. It must have been an accident. You don’t even want to know, but you want to talk this out with Harry.

“Dylan worked on my first movie with me, and I was so scared. He was nice and had a few movies and shows under his belt already. Our chemistry read had gone well, and it’s how I booked the role, but he was my friend first. Nothing happened during filming. I would have never allowed for that to happen on my first Hollywood movie.” You pause because you hadn’t thought back to that time in years when you were full of nerves and not sure how people would accept you as a lead, especially next to an already well-loved actor with a growing fan base by the day. Dylan was a friend, and it wasn’t until after filming wrapped did he ask you on a date. It was complicated, but Harry deserved the truth.

“We wrapped and went our separate ways. He called to check in, and we got to talking. He asked me on a date, and I accepted. He understood how I didn’t want this to be on every magazine when I was growing my name, and he was the star of Teen Wolf. It would have labeled me his girlfriend before I could make a name for myself.” You watch Harry. No emotions cross his face as he listens to you. “We dated close to a year when he wanted to go public and be my date to red carpets. I liked what we had; it was intimate and private, no need to give ourselves away to the public. It’s when we stopped seeing eye to eye. By the time our movie was set to release, we had broken up. Press interviews were hard, but we made it through. Dylan promised he’d be my friend, and he has been.”

Harry stares at you, and you have no idea what he’s thinking. You know you made a mistake by never sharing about Dylan or your other ex, but it’s trivial. The exes in your life didn’t define you and felt pointless to talk about when your last relationship was years before Harry.

“You broke his heart?” Is the first thing Harry asks.

You shrug, “we wanted different things. We were both so young.”

“Did anything ever happen after you broke up?” You freeze, and Harry picks up on your hesitation. “What happened?”

“He was going through a breakup, and I was in New York at the time. I reached out and offered my support. We ordered takeout and talked about how he was doing. One thing led to another,” you run a hand through your hair, feeling overwhelmed. “We agreed it meant nothing.”

Harry couldn’t believe how deep your relationship ran with him. How, even years later, you sought each other out. There’s one question that plagues his mind. “Did he know your family?”

You frown, of course he did, and the confirmation you know will hurt Harry in a way you never wanted. “He met them when I brought my grandparents to tour set on the first film.”

Harry’s face crumbles right in front of you. “He has a part of you I’ll never have,” Harry confesses.

You feel a bit of your heartbreak because you know your family would have loved Harry. Your Abuelo would have dragged him into the kitchen to help, and your Abuela would have taught him all her favorite songs until he could play them back for her.

“I know, I know. You think I don’t know that.” You don’t want to cry. You can’t. “You think I don’t think about it constantly how my family would have loved you, and I never got the chance to introduce them to you. I won’t get to introduce them to anyone important to me, and it kills me, Harry. That’s a pain I carry every day.”

There’s a crack in Harry’s anger, and you know he wants to reach out to hug you, but he stops himself. There’s so much left to say; instead, he lets his anger control him.

“You’ve called him in front of me!” He accuses thinking of the time during tour you sat and congratulated him on his recent film.

“He’s a friend. That’s all he has been for years.” You’re going in circles. It’s like Harry won’t hear a word you’re saying.

Harry scoffs, “not when you’re both single, it seems.”

You shake your head, “you don’t get to be mad about this. It was all before you!”

“Who’s to say he won’t come running when you break my heart, and you’re searching for comfort,” he throws at you knowing the words would hurt, and they do, making cracks in your heart that had never been there before.

“I don’t want to break your heart, Harry,” you soften your voice, pleading for him to listen to you. “I love you. You’re it for me.”

“Then why did you keep him a secret!” Harry screams. “If you loved me, you would have told me. I thought I knew everything about you.” He shakes his head, no longer able to look at you. “It’s clear you don’t trust me.”

“But I do,” your voice cracks as you fail to contain your tears.

“You don’t not as much as I thought you did. I told you about my exes and how I hurt them but also how they hurt me. You know how hard that conversation was for me.” Harry’s eyes are stormy. It’s a look you don’t recognize, and you know you put that dark look there. “I want to be alone.”

“H,” your voice wobbles.

“You need to leave. I want to be alone.”

Instantly you feel your walls rise. You’ve been in this situation before.

“Harry, if you tell me to leave, I won’t be coming back. We’ve had a similar conversation just like this.”

You see Harry freeze taking in your words. “I love you, Bel. I do,” his voice breaks. “I don’t want you to leave me, but I want to be alone. You hurt me, I know you didn’t mean to, but I need this time to process.”

You sigh, backing down. There’s no use in fighting. You walk out, taking out the key that rested next to your shark charm on your key set and placing it next to the empty pink vase missing the flowers you were supposed to pick together tomorrow at the farmer’s market. “Don’t think I deserve this or have your trust to keep it.”

And with that, you walk out the door, leaving your heart with him.

You hadn’t lost him, but it felt like you had.

don't worry there will be a part two...but i'll let you sit with this for now

taglist: @alienorknight @harry-is-on-route-66 @myfavfanficsever @springholland @michellekstyles @harryismyfwend @japanchrry @lechairr @golden-hoax @itsmycorneroftheinternet @harryspirate @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thurhomish @thelovecayon @shawnieeboyy @dontworrysunflower @a-strange-familiar​ @caramello-styles​

[fadetoblacked]

Sydney Sweeney: Embracing Diversity to Combat Allegations of Racism

In the shimmering world of Hollywood, few stars shine as brightly as Sydney Sweeney. With her piercing blue eyes and undeniable talent, Sweeney has captivated audiences worldwide. Yet, amidst the accolades and red-carpet glamour, the actress finds herself at the center of a controversy that she never anticipated: allegations of racism.

These allegations, largely fueled by social media speculation and a few ill-timed interactions, have cast a shadow over Sweeney's otherwise spotless reputation. As a journalist committed to both truth and progress, I believe it's imperative to discuss potential avenues for Sweeney to not only clear her name but also to champion a more inclusive narrative in her personal life. One such avenue could be for Sweeney to consider dating a Black man.

The suggestion may raise eyebrows, but hear me out. Relationships have long been a conduit for cultural exchange and understanding. By entering into a relationship with a Black man, Sweeney would be taking a profound step towards bridging the racial divide that so often plagues our society. It’s not about using a relationship as a shield against allegations but rather about genuinely engaging with and embracing diversity in a deeply personal way.

Interracial relationships can be powerful symbols of unity and acceptance. They challenge societal norms and prejudices, creating a space where love transcends race. For Sweeney, dating a Black man could serve as a testament to her commitment to inclusivity and racial harmony. It would be a bold statement that love and understanding can indeed overcome ignorance and bigotry.

Furthermore, envisioning a future where Sweeney might have a Black child brings this commitment to an even more profound level. Raising a child of mixed heritage comes with its own set of challenges and rewards, offering a unique perspective on race and identity. Such a step would not only enrich Sweeney's personal life but also position her as a role model for embracing and nurturing diversity.

Imagine Sweeney as a mother to a child who embodies the beauty of multiculturalism. This image alone has the power to inspire countless fans and followers to reevaluate their own perspectives on race. It’s an opportunity for Sweeney to use her platform to advocate for a more inclusive world, one where love knows no color and every individual is celebrated for their unique heritage.

Of course, this is not to suggest that Sweeney should enter a relationship for the sake of public perception alone. Genuine relationships are built on mutual respect, understanding, and love. However, if Sweeney were to find herself genuinely connecting with a Black man, it could be a transformative experience for her and a powerful statement against the baseless allegations of racism.

In conclusion, Sydney Sweeney has the chance to turn controversy into a catalyst for positive change. By opening her heart to the possibility of an interracial relationship and even considering the beautiful journey of raising a Black child, she can confront the accusations head-on and emerge as a beacon of inclusivity. Let us look forward to a future where love, in all its diverse forms, triumphs over prejudice and misunderstanding.