Tumgik
#my black sol
myblacksol · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Sup homie?
118 notes · View notes
cozylittleartblog · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
worst way to start my new year, thanks. i have a lot of things to say about these companies but i'm tired and just keeping it focused to the pin side of things for this one. do not ever buy pins from these companies, literally ALL of them are stolen from small artists like me. if you want to buy enamel pins, check out etsy, and artist's personal websites and shops! (though even Etsy has some bootleg pins that ship straight from china, so tread carefully…)
Every pin I've designed is, thus far, EXCLUSIVE to my etsy. if you find it anywhere else, it's been ripped off! and once these stupid bootlegs pop up, it's basically a never ending game of whack-a-mole trying to get them all taken down...
3K notes · View notes
imsiriuslyreading · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
190 notes · View notes
imdamagecontrol · 4 months
Text
whatever our souls are made of, ch. 5: 'tis the season
These days, every morning he wakes in Potter Manor feels like breaking the surface of a dark, cold lake to breathe. There’s no elf at his side. No broken bones or broken spirits. Sirius is down the hall, because he doesn’t have to guard him from further violence. Potter Manor is warm and colourful. Tastes of hot chocolate and Effie’s dishes, half of which Regulus can’t pronounce. Grimmauld Place is a house. Potter Manor is a home.
or, it's christmas at the potters' house!
78 notes · View notes
solradguy · 9 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Shirt came in today. This wig kills me, it's SO LONG LOLL Just have to make the waist belts, style the wig, and finish the pants now
43 notes · View notes
pollopom · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
YOU HAD BURST
102 notes · View notes
mmonetsims · 3 months
Text
sam 🐰
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
samson sol-mi, 23, 6'3, taurus
click for hq. more lore/backstory below.
in the real world, sam works at a florist shop near his local college in kansas who hasn't talked to his parents since high school and smokes when he's stressed (3 out of 5 times in the week.) but in the whisps, the place between the wastes and wonderland, he is a forest person apart of the white queen's court. living two lives is hard, especially when you don't remember half of one.
Tumblr media
43 notes · View notes
chaoticwomanlove · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
«Lo más difícil en fotografía es ser simple» - Anne Geddes
133 notes · View notes
solitaire-sol · 3 months
Text
02. Soft
For: @prongsfoot-microfic Month: December 2023 AO3: Link Notes: Merry (possibly belated) Christmas, and equivalent holidays, to everyone who celebrates them! I just wanted to put out a little Christmas fluff to break my lack-of-posting streak. <3
They’d spent the day out-of-doors, tramping through snow-covered fields and wading through thigh-high drifts like colder, friendlier quicksand, competing to build the most ostentatious snow sculpture before trying to stuff snow down the back of each other’s coats. By the time James and Sirius had returned to the house, the coats in question thoroughly soaked when the snow-stuffing had become an impromptu wrestling match, twilight had already fallen and the village had been illuminated by festive lights and flickering tapers in red and white wax.
Christmas had come to Godric’s Hollow, or at least it was nearly there, and the air was layered with pine and cinnamon over the fresh, clean, cold scent of new-fallen snow. James and Sirius wandered back to James’ house, where the windows were glowing in warm welcome despite the fact that no one was home: James’ parents had gone visiting, as they did every holiday, and James would normally go with them except that Sirius was there, which took priority. James had been apologetic when he’d informed his mother and father, but Euphemia and Fleamont hadn’t seemed at all surprised-- The boys were old enough to look after themselves for a night or two, and the ‘old folks’ had departed with only a few cursory warnings against burning the cottage down.
After the two of them had stamped the snow from their boots, discarding their sodden coats in the mudroom, they'd only had to glance at each other before they were racing for the stairs, elbowing each other mostly-playfully as they clattered up the carpeted steps and separated at the landing: James darted into his room, then into the adjoining bathroom, while a hastily-slammed door from down the hall signalled Sirius' disappearance into the guest bath. Taps were turned, prompting hot water to rush out from pipes charmed to convey the perfect temperature, and the billowing steam fogged up the mirrors in each bathroom. Sirius, still his mother's son, couldn't help but take the time to wash and detangle and mostly dry his hair; so that by the time he made his way back downstairs, James was already in the kitchen, a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the bath as he applied frothy whipped cream to two mugs of hot chocolate with far more care than he showed in Potions.
James looked up as Sirius entered the kitchen, passing him the mug with a cartoonish dog gazing mournfully up on the side; their fingers brushed together, just a little, and something in Sirius was warmed by more than just the hot bath, more than just the heat from the ceramic under his palm. James' mug had an out-of-proportion deer on it in the same cartoony style, both cups were bought as a joke the year before, but they were 'their' mugs and saw plenty of use whenever Sirius came to stay. The mugs were a set, after all, just as Sirius and James made a pair.
Hot chocolate successfully procured, the boys made for the plush sofa in the living room, where Sirius stoked the embers in the fireplace with a flick of his wand as James flung himself onto the couch with reckless disregard for the whipped cream and molten chocolate in his hand.
“Budge up,” Sirius ordered, causing James to grin at the faux-authority in his tone, and there was a good deal of jostling and wriggling before they found something that suited them-- Half-sprawled across the length of the sofa, Sirius' back wedged in the corner of the backrest and the couch's arm, James' back to his front. Long limbs and lean bodies slotted together with zero room to spare, and something that might still have attracted covert stares and curious speculation in the Gryffindor common room could be as easy and as natural as it felt. Sirius reached behind him with his free hand and seized a handful of the thick quilt draped over the sofa’s back, pulling it forward and draping it over James, who picked up the edge and tucked it around them like a two-occupant cocoon.
It might have surprised those curious Housemates to hear the surprisingly gentle cadence of the conversation that followed, which rose and fell according to the whims of the boys now cuddled together on the overstuffed sofa, the twinkling lights of the large evergreen in the corner creating a private constellation in the firelit dimness. Christmas at the Potters' was nothing like Christmas with the Blacks, who acknowledged the holiday in the way they did so many other things: With a deliberation that was at once both slightly ostentatious and severe, all overworked house elves and enormous silver punch-bowls that had once belonged to some storied precursor who’d flavored his glühwein with his enemies' blood. Sirius had years of receiving gifts from his parents, and occasionally they'd even been things he wanted, but there had been nothing like Christmas with James' family, all three in ridiculous jumpers that Euphemia knitted and Fleamont loved and James wore with pride. Their tree, always a superb specimen from the woods around the Hollow, was always all but smothered beneath the tinsel and enchanted tapers and sugared gingerbread, and hidden among the branches were multiple ornaments shaped like the letter 'J,' each in a different style, one for every year of James' life.
When Sirius spent his first Christmas with the Potters, Euphemia presented him with a jumper of his own, and James' gift had been an elaborately wrought letter 'S' to hang next to the other ornaments on the tree. "I'll get you another one next year," James had promised, and Sirius had laughed and called James a sop and pretended to study the weave of his jumper to hide the gratitude in his eyes.
James had been as good as his word-- James always was, when it mattered, and Sirius mattered to him, even if James showed it through deeds and not quite through words. It was evident on that night, in the way that James could be quiet with Sirius, in the way that the boy who always carried himself as if he were centre-stage could drink his hot chocolate and speak only when he felt like it, not when he felt he had to. That these feelings were returned, nebulous and as-yet-undefined as they were, was obvious in the way that Sirius allowed himself to enjoy the sweetness of the hot chocolate and the milky flavour of the cream, childish tastes that he'd never been allowed to develop but which, like so many other things, he was able to experience through James' presence in his life. Sirius had been honed by his family until he'd become as bright and as sharp as a blade; but with James, with James alone, there was no need to bring that blade to bear. James could disarm Sirius without really having to try, perhaps because James so readily showed Sirius the vulnerabilities that James would otherwise never admit he possessed.
When the mugs were emptied and set on the coffee table, when the logs in the fireplace were burning low and neither James nor Sirius felt inclined to stir them to life, the clock on the mantel began to chime. “Midnight,” James observed, relaxing against Sirius and smiling into the firelight, his fingers twisting idly into the fabric of Sirius’ sleeve. “That makes it Christmas Day. Happy Christmas, Padfoot.”
“Happy Christmas, Prongs,” Sirius replied, his voice soft, his eyes softer. Sirius didn’t quite smile, still somewhat unused to the way that James could make him feel-- Like the first day back at Hogwarts with his friends, like Monty and Effie smiling at him over the breakfast table, such times with James were too precious for Sirius to take lightly, and he would never quite master James’ knack for cradling everything in a grin. Even so, if only for a moment, it seemed like the world beyond the front door had faded into a pleasantly indistinct haze, and all that really mattered was that cosy living room and that glowing fire and the quilt that smelt faintly of lavender, the lingering sweetness on his tongue and the warm, solid weight of James against him, as if that was how they were always meant to be. James’ breathing flattened and slowed as he drowsed, ever able to fall asleep with an ease that Sirius sometimes envied, and Sirius let himself follow suit, his murmured words almost lost beneath the steady crackling from the fireplace.
“You mean the world to me.”
33 notes · View notes
sadiegurl · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
my Girl
144 notes · View notes
myblacksol · 18 days
Text
Tumblr media
This should be a famous painting
56 notes · View notes
luvxiem · 2 years
Text
80mph
Tumblr media
word count ! ~950 pairing ! luca x gn!reader genre ! fluff hehe summary ! he likes when you hold onto him song ! nomad by zion. t & gen hoshino
Tumblr media
"what is that."
luca beams at you from the driveway, holding a helmet under his arm while leaning against a motorcycle and waving enthusiastically. when he texted you to come outside at nearly eleven at night, going for an impromptu motorcycle ride was definitely not on your list of potential possibilities.
"c'mon! it'll be fun," he laughs. there's another helmet sitting on the seat waiting for you that you eye warily, wrapping your arms around your stomach. despite being with the blonde for almost six months now, he's never mentioned riding a bike before. all you ever see is that sleek black car he brings around whenever the two of you go on dates.
luca seems to notice your hesitation and his smile turns a little softer, reaching out a hand toward you.
"hey, it'll be fun—trust me. i won't let you get hurt," he reassures, and you can't help the fluttering in your chest. taking a tentative step forward, you glance between luca's outstretched arm and his face, hesitantly grasping his hand. luca instantly grins, gently tugging you closer so that he could help you gear up. he hands you the spare helmet and helps you secure it, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the lips, his own little way of saying "thank you for trusting me."
the blonde straps his own helmet on before helping you onto the bike, holding you steady as you swing one leg over. he climbs on after you, flipping down the visor before glancing at you over his shoulder.
"wrap your arms around me and hold on tight, okay?" luca instructs, and you slip your arms around his abdomen, pressing your chest against your lover's strong back. he switches on the ignition and the engine revs to life, echoing down the quiet street. hopefully your neighbors don't file a noise complaint…
"ready?" luca calls, and before you could answer, he kicks off the cement and glides off the driveway and onto the road, your eyes slipping shut in surprise. as the two of you exit the residential area and enter the main road, you can't help but wonder how you found yourself in this very moment—holding onto your boyfriend as he flies down empty streets, the wind roaring in your ears and streetlamps flitting by. just when you convince yourself to open your eyes, the bike suddenly speeds up, startling you as you grip luca tighter on instinct. you hear him giggle at your reaction and you can immediately tell he did that on purpose just to mess with you.
"LUCAAA!" you shriek as he accelerates again, wanting so badly to punch him yet too afraid to even consider letting go just for a moment. you can feel the rumble of his chest as he laughs loudly, turning down another street as he leads you to wherever he had in mind.
gradually, he slows down to a comfortable speed, cruising down the avenue with surprising expertise. your eyes are still shut tightly when luca calls out to you.
"open your eyes!" shaking your head in denial, luca just repeats what he said. "open them! the view is lovely here," he coaxes, and hesitantly, you open one eye and then another as your lips part open in awe. to your left was a clear view of the beach and sprawling ocean, a reflection of the full moon overhead seen clearly in the waves.
"wow," you breathe, and although you can't see it, luca is grinning widely at being able to bring you to places like this. all he ever wanted was to make you happy, and the feeling of your arms wrapped tightly around him with the wind rushing past was indescribable. the blonde leads the two of you onto a narrow path leading toward a small hill that unbeknownst to you had a view of the stars and the ocean that was unparalleled. where did he even find things like this anyway?
luca slows to a stop near the peak, removing his helmet before helping you off the bike and taking yours off too, leaving them both on the padded seat. he slips his hand into yours as he leads you excitedly to the hidden benches past the treeline, gasping at the sight. your boyfriend watches you with a fond expression on his face, reaching out to hold your chin and gently turning your head toward him. you open your mouth to ask him what was wrong when suddenly you feel a pair of plush lips on yours, your eyes slipping shut as you let out a soft sigh. luca's arms wrap around your waist as your link your own around his neck, a happy hum coming from him as you part, hooded eyes tearing themselves away from his lips to meet his gaze.
"what was that for?" you ask breathlessly, and luca simply shrugs.
"i just love you a lot, that's all." and the way he said it so casually—as if loving you was a certainty, as if loving you was as easy as breathing, as if loving you was written in the stars. your heart aches at his easy declaration and you can't stop yourself from reconnecting your lips in a deep kiss, hopefully conveying to him all the emotions you were feeling that you couldn't say.
you disconnect yourself from him yet stay close, reaching down to cup his face in your hand and tenderly rubbing your thumb over his cheek. luca leans into your hold, turning press his lips to your palm before reaching up and placing his hand over yours.
"i love you too; so, so much, luca."
and the sight of his smile is more beautiful than any view he could show you.
Tumblr media
WRITTEN ! 091722
339 notes · View notes
getallemeralds · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
rollercoasters may be lying in wait for you to get emotionally attached to them
72 notes · View notes
sunflow3rsims · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Babydoll - The Pretty Girl & The Instigator
"You can try, but you'll NEVER do it like me."
Name: Monique Arthur Nickname: The Babydoll Age: 26 Location: Brindleton Bay Seduction: 3 Physical Strength: 2 Mental Strength: 5 Manipulation: 5 Anger Management: 2 Sexuality & Relationship Status: Straight. Has a boyfriend who would literally vacuum a beach if she asked him to. Won’t like “The Real Girl” or “The Party Girl”.
Tumblr media
"Don’t let the baby face fool you! I’ll knock the shit out of a bitch like an enema. Well, not me. I’ll get another girl to do it for me. I don’t like fighting. This face? Designed by the divine, honey. You see these nails? They are not cheap. This lace?! NOT cheap. It costs a lot to look this good. You think I’d waste that on a hoe? HA! Think again. What makes me a baddie? Let me tell you something. It takes a real baddie to use her sharp tongue and quick wit to manipulate people into getting what she wants. Watch me run this house. I love to start drama between people because I love how it plays out. Two weak, dumb bitches fighting? That’s my favourite fucking movie."
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Monique was born an only child to teenage parents in Brindleton Bay. She was in and out of foster care until her parents decided they didn’t want anything to do with her or each other. She quickly realised that if she was going to survive in the foster care, and subsequently, the world, she had to look out for herself and only herself. Blessed with intelligence, beauty and a twinkling innocence in her eyes, she’s expertly used this to her advantage. After all who can resist a pretty face? Sneaky, master manipulator and a lover of chaos and drama, she gets what she wants, when she wants, how she wants. At 26, she lives with her boyfriend of 3 years, Miles, who’s rich in money, but  poor in self esteem. Perfect combo for someone like Monique. She works as a hair stylist. She’s very well rounded, from wig installs to box braids to barbering… She can do it all. Currently working on buying her own salon and eventually starting a chain.
@plumbewb (Hope I got everything love! xx)
33 notes · View notes
incoure-art · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
happy pride month with a ghostknife wedding
59 notes · View notes
8yido · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Things happen man
46 notes · View notes