#Black and Anthracite

[freshthoughts2020]

[snkrbonbon]

[stopdoopyphotos]

anthracite coal

[watchilove]

Review: gérald genta Gentissima Oursin Anthracite, Pink & Black

What better start in 2025 if not on a romantic note with a beautiful design created by the one and only Gérald Genta – the Gentissima Oursin in Anthracite, Pink & Black. A fantastic timeless design that can cover a wide range of wishes and desires. I will use this occasion to wish you all a prosperous new year! Joy and happiness, peace and health! Continue reading Review: gérald genta Gentissima…

[bathroomforless]

Explore Bathroom4Less' range of high-quality designer radiators, including stylish anthracite radiators, sleek black radiators, and efficient electric models. From tall vertical radiators to compact bathroom radiators, our collection offers the perfect heating solution for any room. Whether you're looking for column radiators, central heating radiators, or small radiators, our products combine modern design with reliable performance. Shop now for the best prices on designer radiators and elevate your home with premium heating from Bathroom4Less!

[neatwhiskeyplaguedoctor]

Can you please do a Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair x Male Reader imagine? Where Reader is from a popular family of hybrids and tribrids, where Reader is a Vampire, a Witch and a Shapeshifter. And the three of them became roommates temporarily because there were no more available rooms for him in the boys' dormitory.

Tri-problem (Male)

Art by TanyaF2022 on X/Twitter.

You sigh as you feel the bumps of the road as the family chauffeur, Jack drives you to Nevermore Academy. You pull out your phone and start swiping on Instagram to see all your "friends" stories and whatnot. Rolling your eyes you start to block them all one by one. "Are you okay young sir?" Jack asks as he looks at you in the rearview mirror. "I told you to call me Y/N," you said annoyed. "But if you must know I'm just annoyed. Why am I being punished for something that my parents agree was the right action?" "Well, I doubt the school board was happy to hear you almost ended the life of your classmate," Jack said causing you to roll your eyes. "Please. No one would've missed him. He deserved it. He assaulted Normies to feed his ego. There is no excuse for that." "Yes, but you decided to, hex him, suck out almost two liters of his blood, and shapeshifted into a silverback gorilla to break both his arms," Jack said flatly. "And?" You said as if it wasn't a big deal. Jack just sighed.

"Well Mister L/N your father had informed me of your... predicament," Larissa Weems, the principal of Nevermore said as you sat across from her. "We have had your uniform custom made as your family requested but... I- uh..." she stumbled over her words causing you to raise an eyebrow. "We have no space in the boy's dormitory... and well... since you have no family in Jericho... I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the girls dormitory..." "You gotta be kidding me..."

She was indeed not kidding... here you were... standing in front of a dorm in Ophelia Hall... "Fuck my life..." You sigh and knock. Not like you had a choice all your stuff was there... "Enid. The door," you heard a flat cold muffled voice on the other side of the door "Coming~" you heard a second, sweeter warmer muffled voice. Soon the door was opened. "Hello...~ oh- I don't think I know you... have I seen around?" The girl asked her wide smile which showed off her sharp canines never faltering. She was about 5'2, had fair skin, rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes, blond hair with pink and blue tips, a pink sweater with white and maroon diamonds, a maroon skirt, and white thigh-high socks. You see that inside the dorm another girl was sitting at a desk writing in a typewriter. She had pale skin, black hair that was tied into two even braids, anthracite eyes, and a blank yet focused expression. She wore a pair of black boots, black jeans that went over the boots, a black shirt with white stripes that were slightly above her belly button, a black shirt with Ghostface on it that was the same length as the undershirt, a black vest, and a pair of black fingerless gloves. Before you were able to answer the blond girl's question, the ravenette turned and looked at you, her cold piercing gaze locked with your gaze as she spoke. "Y/N L/N. Correct?" Her voice was cold and monotone. "...Y-Yeah..." You mumble as the blonde's expression lit up. "You're our new roomie!" She exclaimed grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. Now inside you, we're able to see the room clearer. It was split in half, the spider web window was only halfway filled with color on, what you assume is the blonde's side, the other side had no color and was just normal glass with no tint. The blonde's side of the room was very colorful. Her bed frame was white and her blanket was splattered with multiple colors, her bed was on top of a puzzle-like rug with each piece being colored differently, ribbons were hanging from the ceiling, and a desk littered with notebooks, markers, pens, etc. A bean bag chair, posters, and so much more. The ravenette's side was the complete opposite. There was a lamp, a black cello, a black sheet music stand, a desk with a black typewriter, a black bed, and a black leather chair. All your stuff was neatly set in a corner of the room. The blonde let go of her hand as she looked at you her grin somehow wider. "My name is Enid Sinclair! I'm a Fur, AKA a werewolf! Nice to meet you roomie!" Enid said excitingly as she went to the ravenette and grabbed her cheeks making her look at you. "This is Wednesday Addams! She may look gloomy but she's a softie!" Enid exclaimed before Wednesday leaned away scowling. "...Nice to meet two..." You mumbled. "So~," Enid said as she leaned closer to you so close you could feel her breath on your face. "What are you? Fur, Scales, Fangs, Psychic, or something else?" She asked curiously. "Personal space Enid," Wednesday reprimanded her from her chair causing Enid to lean back pouting muttering "I was just asking..." under her breath. "I'm a tribrid... I'm part Vampire, Witch, and Shapeshifter," You explained as Wednesday stood from her typewriter. "Your family is known for that are they not?" Wednesday asked rhetorical. "Your family is known for giving birth to Hybrids and Tribrids," She said monotone with her cold expression. "Yeah... they are," you said as Wednesday nodded. "Weems had informed us of your... incident. Try to behave yourself," Wednesday said as she headed for the door. "Unpack and try not to make a mess of things," she said before leaving. "She always like that?" You ask. "Pretty much," replies Enid.

As the next two weeks passed you got accustomed to living with the two. You found out that Enid would try and snoop when you were on your phone or laptop to find something to put on her blog. When you caught her she blushed and turned away but after that day she would randomly ask to things, favorite color, would you rathers, song taste, etc. You got used to "Addams schedule," as Enid calls it. Basically when she did her writing when she wanted to be left alone, when she would leave for coffee, etc.

As time went on Wednesday had admitted she got used to your presence and even let you watch her write. Yoko, a fellow vampire and friend of Enid said that most Vamipres have a calming presence around them. Ironic. So since Wednesday hadn't really spent a prolonged time near vampires she was getting a heavy dose of it.

Enid on the other hand would paint your nails, do your hair, take you on friend dates, etc. You would talk to her about werewolf stuff, since you had cousins who were part werewolf you could relate in some aspects. After five months of living with the roommates, Weems came to visit.

"Hello girls, and Mr. L/N." "Yo," you did a two-finger salute from Enid's bed, your head in her lap as she dyed the tips of your hair. "I have news, one of the boys has moved out of his dorm as his parents found a suitable house in Jericho, so that means that Mr. L/N here will finally be moving to the boys' dorm. Fun!" Weems said with a smile but Enid stood up causing your head to fall onto the mattress. "What!? B-but he can't- I mean-," Enid stammered but Wednesday spoke I'm her usual monotone and cold tone. "What Enid is trying to say is we don't wish for Y/N's leave. He's been here for six months now. We have grown attached. So much so," Wednesday said as she stood from her desk and walked over to you, who had sat up. She cupped your face, causing you to raise an eyebrow, she then leaned down and kissed you softly. Her hands were cold to the touch. Her lips were soft and plush and tasted like coffee. Wednesday soon pulled away and looked at Weems. "We've started a polygamous relationship," She said as she looked at Enid who was blushing. Enid quickly walked over to you and kissed you as well. She was nervous, unlike Wednesday. Her lips were warm and soft. They also tasted like milk tea. Weems blinked a few times at this action. "W-well... this certainly complicated things..." she said as she looked at you. "I will... talk to your mother... see what she says about this...," She spoke before leaving. You were flustered and confused. The room was silent for a few seconds before Wednesday spoke. "I have him Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We share Sunday." "T-that works..." Enid mumbled. "The fuck just happened?" You ask as Wednesday rolls her eyes. "You just got two girlfriends."

[renx01]

Playing Along - Part 8

Prompt: “Just play along, please” inspired this multiple part fic, in which agent Galahad and Kay are on a mission together in the French Alps. Here, they have to pretend to be a couple, despite the two of them being rivals and Kay always wanting to beat him at everything. Pairing: Harry Hart x Kingsman!Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: fake dating, slowburn, rivals Word count: 1.5 k

Despite wishing for reality to be different, the days of you and Harry being able to be intimate and live almost as if you followed a regular domestic life pass quickly. The evening you had spent cuddling on the tiny sofa whilst listening to jazz and enjoying a cup of scotch that had Harry whispering sweet nothings into your ear, was replaced by the reality of the mission the following morning. You had to meet up with Anglo and Guilia that afternoon, and so you had to get ready to go out. Still, you didn’t mind helping him get ready and him helping you to do so as well after having taken a long shower together. 

Harry had suggested a cafe in a nearby town to meet up at, as the mountain itself still hasn’t been reopened to the public yet. The cafe itself is quiet, with only a few other tables being occupied. You and your partner arrive there well before the other couple, giving you the opportunity to inconspicuously place a tiny microphone below the table (similar to the one placed on Eggsy in The Secret Service). As Harry is doing so, take the liberty to order the two of you some tea to drink while you wait. He appreciates the gesture by giving you a quick kiss on your lips before sitting back down across from you. ‘Thank you love, this is my favourite.’ You smirk. ‘Of course dear, and I know it is.’  The two of you make small talk, which goes remarkably more smoothly than before. As you do so, you admire how the clothes you had chosen for him to wear fit the agent. His crisp white shirt collar is a stark contrast to the dark grey jumper and black tie he’s wearing. Combined with black woolen trousers and black boots, the outfit is classic, yet his hair being not as sleek as usual makes it feel more casual. You’re wearing an outfit that’s quite different, yet fits what he is wearing well. The  black cable knit turtleneck is casual yet chic, especially when combined with the pair of anthracite wool trousers Harry had worn earlier that week, giving a bit of an oversized look when worn by you. They’re held up by a black belt and sit perfectly on top of the similarly black boots you’re wearing.  Hello agents, Merlin here. Hamish’ voice sounding in your ear pulls you out of your thoughts. You quickly glance at Harry and nod. I just wanted to let you know that they have come with quite a few bodyguards. Angelo’s father was attacked last night by some rival. ‘Alright, thanks for the info.’ You whisper. Thought I’d let you know before you’d be faced by a wall of bodyguards. He laughs. Anyhow, good luck with your meeting. I’ll be here if you need anything. You realise that you shouldn’t be too lovey dovey until the other couple arrives. 

Luckily that doesn’t take too long. The two Italians walk in exactly at the time you had discussed with them and you wave to gain their attention. With them, quite a few bodyguards follow in and take a seat at tables nearby. ‘Sorry about this.’ Angelo whispers as he leans forward before taking his seat next to you. Guilia takes her seat next to Harry, obviously feeling uncomfortable because of the many bodyguards. ‘Do not fret it.’ You say. ‘I am certain there must be a good reason.’ Harry nods in agreement. ‘So, what would you two like to drink? Our treat.’ Harry orders a bottle of white wine and a charcuterie board in his perfect French accent. Rather than finding it annoying like you did previously, you now find it quite attractive to hear his baritone voice speak the language so effortlessly. You finish your tea as the board full of different meats, cheeses, and olives arrives. You spoke of everything and nothing to the couple: how it had been with the snowstorm, whether they had anything planned for the rest of the week, and when they would be returning home.  ‘We will be returning to Italy tomorrow.’ Angelo states. ‘Originally we were meant to leave in three days, but due to personal circumstances regarding my father we’ve decided that we will leave early.’ You put a hand on his shoulder. ‘That must be difficult. Hopefully your father will be fine soon. I don’t know your situation, but please let us know if we can do anything to help.’ A small smile graces his lips and he looks down momentarily before looking up and locking eyes with his partner. Guilia smiles and nods. ‘I am uncertain of how you could help, but being here and chatting does help.’ He pauses. ‘My father was attacked in his home last night. We’re not sure who did it, but we have to return so we can make sure he is safe and has our support.’ ‘That’s understandable. Being with your family during difficult times can really make the difference.’ You pour some more wine into their glasses. ‘Thank you; really.’ Guillia says.

After that you speak about other, more casual and less stressful, topics. While you do not gain particularly much in terms of information, due to the amount of alcohol in their system, you were able to place a tracker on both of them and swipe Angelo’s phone as you were saying goodbye. As you sit in your car, you connect it to a laptop and transfer all the data and messages. Afterwards, Harry walks from the car to a nearby store to get some wine and food, inconspicuously dropping Angelo’s phone in the middle of the parking lot, a route you know they had walked back to their own car. When he gets back in, you’ve just put away the laptop and connected with Merlin. With the door closed, Harry drives away and back towards the chalet you’re staying at. The debrief with Merlin is effective, as he’s reading through the files and messages you’ve just uploaded. ‘Kay, you did well stealing that phone, there’s a load of information regarding his father’s deals.’ As Harry drives you out of town and the conversation continues, he puts his hand on your thigh. ‘I’m pretty sure no-one noticed that feat.’ You smirk a bit. ‘I barely even noticed you do it.’ Harry comments. ‘Quite impressive, especially with the added pressure of being in the middle of a restaurant surrounded by their bodyguards.’ His hand squeezes you lightly. ‘Merlin, is there anything regarding the attack?’ The Scot sighs deeply. ‘Well there isn’t anything explicit, however, it is implied that Guilia’s family could be the ones behind it. Apparently they aren’t too happy with the current arrangement.’

The debrief ends just as you arrive back at the chalet and you both take off your glasses. ‘You were quite extraordinary dear.’ Harry whispers before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. His hand wanders from your chin to the side of your face and into your hair while his other hand moves from your thigh to your lower back; almost pulling you over the centre console of the car. You pull away slightly and almost gasp for air. ‘Fuck, Harry.’ ‘My love.’ Your hands move to cup his face, tracing the lines in his face with your thumb. ‘We should take this inside. I don’t want Merlin to question us why we were in the car for an extended period of time.’ You say before giving him a quick kiss and pulling out of his embrace to open your car door, grabbing the laptop and other necessities in the process. He follows suit, grabbing the wine and food he’d bought at the supermarket earlier. As soon as you close and lock the door behind you, both of you drop whatever you’re holding. Rather than giving him the opportunity to make the first move, you pull him to you by the collar of his jacket and catch his lips. He chuckles into the kiss before pulling you close, his hands resting on your hips. ‘Oh dear, I do hope you know what you’re doing to me.’ He pulls away slightly. ‘I am perfectly aware.’ You whisper into his ear, your hand ghosting the back of his head. He leans down and kisses your neck. ‘Well then, you would not mind me ravishing you, would you?’ You shake your head. He gives you a quick kiss before walking you backwards into his bedroom. As he is about to close the door, the two of you are stopped in your tracks by your phone ringing.

While you are annoyed, you pick it up quickly. ‘Hello.’ ‘Agent Kay, Merlin here. I have an urgent matter, and it seems that both you and Harry do not have your glasses on.’ You can feel Harry moving a strand of hair out of your eye. ‘Merlin, yes of course, what is the matter?’ You lean into the touch of the man in front of you. ‘It seems that there are several cars on their way to your chalet. I need the two of you to pack up and meet the helicopter at the location I’ve just sent you.’

______

A/N: Hello, I'm still alive... somehow. I never really believed in those curses that are cast upon fanfic writers, but perhaps I should start now haha.

Tags: @crazymela @julieeauchocolat @chimopdog @briars-glenn

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue April 1, 1954

Jean Patchett wears a charcoal gray sharkskin-finish linen dress dotted with white buttons - by Larry Aldrich, in Moygashel linen, a shiny black straw hat dotted with large painted white polka dots and a red ribbon belt. By Tatiana du Plessix. Coro bracelet, Rosenstein's bag and Superb's gloves.

Jean Patchett porte une robe en lin finition peau de requin gris anthracite parsemé de boutons blancs- de Larry Aldrich, en lin Moygashel, chapeau de paille noir brillant parsemé de gros pois blancs peints et et d'une ceinture en ruban rouge. Par Tatiana du Plessix. Bracelet Coro, le sac de Rosenstein et les gants de Superb.

Photo Irving Penn vogue archive

[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) PART 2

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1

PART 2.

You tell him that you’ll meet him there. After your little crying jag, you have to go home and clean up. Maybe with some painkillers and a nap with an ice pack on your eyes you won’t look like death warmed over. He offers to pick you up, but you decline, knowing it would make the drive twice as long for him.

For a moment he seems like he wants to argue, but in the end he lets it go.

The restaurant is in Manhattan. It’s the sort of place you could never afford, and maybe even if you could, it wouldn’t exactly be your scene. You smooth your dress over your hips as you get out of your cab, hoping you won’t embarrass John. It was the nicest thing you own for a respectable rendezvous, a dark green paisley Etro dress with long sleeves that you’d scored at a thrift shop. It bared your shoulders with a wide neckline, but not much cleavage. You were behaving yourself tonight, despite the little suggestions the devils on your shoulders were whispering into your ear.  

Despite the fact that you arrive early, John is waiting for you outside, looking utterly edible in another black on black three-piece suit. Does he buy them in bulk? The thought makes you smile a little, a thing he returns in small measure. There is a sadness that cloaks this man like a mantle, and for a moment you wonder if that is what people see, when they look at you. You’re not sure you’re qualified to help him at all, but maybe, just maybe, there could be some solace in your shared grief for the same woman who left you both behind.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Nervously, you look through the window at the glittering lights and swanky diners laughing over their expensive glasses of wine. You feel unbearably self-conscious. “Am I dressed ok for this place?”

“You look beautiful.” He says it so matter of fact, his tone completely platonic. And yet…

And yet.

He looks at you with a haunting intensity that grips you to the bone. He isn't even looking at your body. He's looking at your face, almost as though he's seen a ghost. 

You know you remind him of her, and you wonder if maybe this is a bad idea. 

But he shakes himself out of it, offering his arm, and even though you have an inkling that maybe you shouldn't, another part of you that is usually kept locked up in the dungeon with the rest of your worst impulses pushes you to take it, because you want to. Bolstered by his approval and your own special brand of foolhardiness, you slip your arm through his with your head held high.  

You haven't technically done anything wrong yet. Lusting after your sister's husband in an abstract way you never had any intention of acting on isn't exactly new. But the rest...is edging into a murky gray area.

What would Helen think? She'd probably be amused, truth be told, at least by your own inner turmoil. You remember that she told you once that she never got jealous when women went all googly eyed over her model-handsome husband, because she trusted him so completely. He doesn't even look at them, she said. 

Well. He'd looked at you, like he was a wolf and you were a tasty little bunny. Just the thought made you flush all over again, your fingers involuntarily flexing on John's bicep.

Dear lord, it was like granite. 

He looks down at you, curious, and you know you look as embarrassed as you feel. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize, looking anywhere but at his burning anthracite eyes. He pats your hand, but says nothing, sparing you the embarrassment of making up some lame excuse. 

You go inside, and the maître d’ is exceptionally solicitous. Welcome back, Mr. Wick. This way please, Mr. Wick. He and Helen must have been quite the regulars.

Once you are at your table John waves off the maître d’, opting to push in your chair for you. His fingers brush your shoulder afterwards. It was probably a mistake, but you cannot suppress a small shudder. He does not look at you as he seats himself, opting to pick up the menu.

You follow suit, your skin on fire. 

It was an accidental touch, you tell yourself.

He didn't mean anything by it.

You glance up from your menu, to find he is looking at you out the corner of his eye.

You tell your treacherous heart that attempts to pound out of your chest to settle the fuck down.

“So...what was Helen’s favorite dish here?”

He doesn't look up, and for some reason you are relieved.

“Guess.”

“Hmm.” You scan the offerings. It is mostly French leaning nouvelle cuisine. It all looks delicious, and very expensive. You know the moment your eyes find the line, and you smile. “The magret de canard.”

This time he does smile with you. It is tinged with nostalgia, and your heart aches. For him. For you. For the woman you are remembering together.

“She took me to Europe when I graduated from high school. She ordered that dish in every restaurant in France we went to. She said it was so delicious there was no point in trying anything else.” You cackle with another memory. “Then when we got home she was determined to learn how to make it. It went ok until the sauce. Holy shit, the black smoke in that kitchen was like a tire fire!” You wipe away a tear that is borne of mirth and memory. 

When you look across the table again John is smiling gently, as though he can see it perfectly in his own mind’s eye.

“She was a terrible cook.” He says it fondly, like it amused the hell out of him.

“I know. I am too, I’m not throwing shade here. Do you like to cook?”

The side of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “Yes. I find it relaxing.”

Figures. He would be so perfect. One of many reasons Helen undoubtedly fell in love with him.

When the waiter comes John orders a filet, and you, the duck. “For Helen,” you say with a wistful curl of lips. He stares at you silently for a long beat before nodding, returning your smile perfunctorily. You marvel that you can already tell when his expressions are genuine, and when he’s playing the part he needs to for the sake of social nicety. Your heart aches for him. It must be so painful to be here, where he'd dined with Helen so many times. Maybe more like sticking a finger in a wound, than a brave act for the sake of nostalgia. What were the two of you thinking? 

It occurs to you, from things Helen had said, that maybe this is more than just her favorite restaurant.

“This is where you met, isn't it?” 

His eyes are fixed on a particular spot at the bar. “Right over there. She was meeting a client, but he canceled. So we had dinner together.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You didn't happen to have anything to do with that?” All Helen had ever told you about John's occupation was that he worked in security, but she had implied multiple times that he was resourceful, smart, and not someone to be fucked with.

The corner of his mouth ticks, his eyebrow rising slightly. You congratulate yourself for lifting him at least a little out of his funk. “I'm afraid it was just luck on my part.” 

“Fate,” you correct, toasting with your water glass, because you haven’t been brought drinks yet.

“It's nice to think so.”

“So then you had dinner.” You know the story. “Where did you sit?”

“Right here.” 

You feel a chill, knowing that once, your sister had sat in this very place, across from this very man, and changed the course of her life forever. You marvel at what that must have been like. You never fall for men quickly, usually keeping them at arm’s length for as long as you can manage. You’ve never experienced love at first sight, or first night, but looking at this handsome man across from you, it's not so hard to imagine.

“Did you fall in love that night?” you ask quietly.

“I did. I think for Helen...it took a little longer.”

Immediately you shake your head. “No,” you contradict, wanting him to know this. “She called me, the next day. She told me she'd just met the most amazing man and that she wanted to spend her life with him. I thought she was crazy.” You look around at the intimate setting, the low soft lighting and the swanky surroundings, a little misty eyed. Then, you look at him. This handsome devil with the soft eyes of a poet.

Helen hadn’t been frivolous. She hadn’t even been particularly romantic. Meeting John Wick changed all that.

“Maybe I understand a little better now.”

You look at each other from across the table. There is a longing in his eyes that you know you do not have the power to heal, and yet you would if you could. You would give a great deal to see this man made whole again—you’re not really sure why.

He looks away first, and you feel…raw. 

“Thank you. I…was the best version of myself, for her.” His long fingers trace a circle in the white table cloth, a hairline of a frown appearing on his brow. “I've slid backwards a bit, since.”

Hoo boy, did you get that.

“That’s ok,” you say softly. “We do what we have to, to survive.”

He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes through his long hair. Your fingers itch to brush it out of his face. To touch him, and you absolutely know you shouldn't. Shouldn’t even think it. But there is something in the way he's been looking at you today. Something almost like…hunger, and your belly flutters with a thousand butterflies made of bad ideas and midnight longings.

“So…what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

You shake your head with your heart in your throat. Is he asking out of politeness, making chit chat, or does he want to know if you’re unattached?

The truth is you’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than six months, and a nervous little laugh escapes you.

“I’ve…never met anyone who it was worth the sacrifice. Things are always nice at first, but then he starts to try to mold you into the person he really wants you to be, and you realize all along he just wanted someone to cook his meals and wash his socks.” 

John lifts an eyebrow at this, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.

“Maybe you should try dating someone who can afford a housekeeper.” He looks up at you then, his dark eyes soft yet penetrating, and you swear he can see straight through to the depths of you. The look almost feels like a challenge, somehow. You try to meet him head on, but in the end the unbearable heat of it makes you squirm, and you look away.

The waiter saves you from what you might say next, bringing the bottle of wine John ordered. 

Thank god, because you need a drink.

[freshthoughts2020]

[justanothergoldfish]

Greg Lestrade x reader

Handsome stranger

pt. 1 pt.2 pt. 3

warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking

word count: 950

A/N: this plays during the events of the episode 'Hounds of Baskerville'.

---

It was a rather slow afternoon, all the guests had settled in this morning. You checked the guest book and there were no more reservations booked for today. Since most guests were currently out with Fletcher, the guide for the Hound of Baskerville Tour, it was finally calming down in the “Cross Keys” hotel and bar. There was finally time to refill the ale and the fridge for the sodas. 

This entire story about this monster had brought in a lot of customers in the last month, which is why you were helping Gary, the owner and a family friend, out. He'd asked you to work for him part time so he had more time for management and the paperwork.

Billy stuck his head out from the kitchen and gave you an exhausted look. “You alright up front? We're busy prepping dinner back here, but if you need help just call, okay?” the ginger haired boy panted, wiping his hands on a towel. You just chuckled and nodded along, it was adorable how the staff was still treating you like a raw egg. 

“I'm fine, don't worry. Not my first time being a waitress” you smiled, patting his shoulder before he looked up to the bar. “Ah, customer.” he said, quickly nudging to the door as he retreated to the kitchen. 

You turned around to see a middle aged man with ashy gray hair and a beige, loose jacket. He wore a black button shirt and anthracite pants, on his face a black pair of sunglasses. 

Yeah, definitely a foreigner. 

You tightened your apron as you walked up to the bar, supporting yourself on the edge of the surface with both hands. 

“Hi, welcome to the Cross Keys.” you smiled as he looked around, hands buried in his pockets. 

“Mmh, nice cozy place, innit?” 

Ah, so he's from London. 

“Most definitely, Sir. Away from all the city trouble, it's pure heaven.” You smiled at him and he took off his shades, letting his eyes get used to the light in the room. 

Once they had adapted, he looked directly at you. Big mistake. His eyes were a gorgeous shade of chocolate brown, practically making you melt away at first sight.

No, get it out of your head. He's way too old and probably married.

“You don't happen to have any single rooms available for tonight, do you?” He asked, putting his hands back into his pockets. 

Or maybe not married. 

You pretended to check the bookings, chewing on your lip as you tried your best to look very focused in order not to smile. Despite his age, he was definitely a sight for sore eyes. 

As soon as you had yourself back together, you nodded and looked back up at the man. 

“Actually, we do. That'll be 120£, breakfast is already included and served in the dining room from 7.30 to 9.30 in the morning.” 

The man nodded and pulled out his wallet, “Sounds good. I'll take it.” he says, his voice dropping lower than before. It distracted you to the point you almost gave him the key without having him pay, hadn't he already reached out the money to you. 

“Oh, and your ID please.” you added, taking the money and putting it into the cash register. 

“Sure, one second.” He pulled out the card and placed it on the counter, shoving it over to you. As you took it, you quickly read through his information, calculating in your head. 

So he's 49, damn, from London. 1,80m tall… Gregory Lestrade… handsome man, handsome name. 

Gregory Lestrade. 

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts and cleared your throat, writing down his personal information into the guest book and handing the card back to him. 

“The rooms are upstairs, around the corner on the left.” you said, taking some of the already polished glasses and one by one wiping them down again, just to look busy and to have an excuse to stay up front for a while longer.

“Came to see the creature?” you grinned, and Lestrade seemed to be in thought for a moment. He took the key with the room number and his ID from the counter. 

“Sort of…” he grins to himself, leaning against the bar, hoping to catch a glimpse into the guest book. 

“I'm actually looking for.. uhm, a friend.”

You raised an eyebrow, wiping down another glass. “Oh, a woman?”

Lestrade can't help but huff. He shakes his head as he wets his lips, “Tall man with dark curly hair, probably wore a dark coat, collar turned up for the dramatic effect. Occasionally acts like a drama queen though.” 

Yeah, that rang a bell. 

“With his shorter boyfriend?”

Lestrade took a seat on a barstool, snorting at your confident words. He tries his best not to grin and laugh out loud. 

“Yeah, his, er… boyfriend.” He mumbles in amusement. “So they are here, good. Listen, I'll bring my bag to my room and I'll be right back for a drink. I'll probably need it.”

You put the glass down and tucked the cloth back into the belt of your apron. 

“Great idea. I've just opened a brand new keg of Guinness if you're interested? I'll be here if you need anything else, Mr. Lestrade.” you smile sweetly, taking his appearance in once again. 

Lestrade turned his head back to you as he walked to the door with an amused grin. “Guinness sounds wonderful, and you can just call me Greg, love.” 

Watching him go, you just stood there behind the bar, staring and smiling in awe like a dork. 

Greg Lestrade.

What a handsome stranger...

[wordsofwilderness]

Please assign the marauders as IKEA furniture < 3

ah, but of course. Without further ado:

The Marauders as IKEA furniture

Remus: BILLY - Bookcase with height extension unit, brown walnut

James: VIMLE - Armchair, Lejde red/brown (with throw pillow)

Sirius: LANDSKRONA - Two-seat sofa, Grann/Bomstad black/metal

Peter: HAMNÖN - Hammock, anthracite/white

[louisupdates]

Louis Tomlinson's 28 Returns With Drop 3 Collection

06 August 2024

Louis Tomlinson continues to explore his creative nature away from music with his clothing label, 28, dropping its third capsule collection. And as with the founder, football’s influence is once again felt throughout.

Those of a certain generation will know Louis Tomlinson as one of the member’s of Uber-popular boy band, One Direction. But there’s so much more to the Doncaster-born artist, and he’s really beginning to establish himself beyond music. A big part of his creative character is poured into 28, his lifestyle clothing label, which itself reflects Tomlinson’s roots and deep connections with football. Drop 3 from 28 picks up right where Drop 2 left off, picking up the pace to showcase a new level of sophistication in product and aesthetic.

The collection is an iteration of previous drops, but with a modern and elegant twist, exuding the ‘uptown attitude’. Featuring the ever popular football jerseys – of which both long-sleeved and short-sleeved versions make a return – and track jackets, this new collection features a new crowd pleaser; the Black Nylon MA1 bomber jacket, adding a fresh dimension to the 28 lineup.

This iteration’s jerseys come in two versions, covering the ‘home’ and ‘away’ requirements. The palette includes calm and confident hues like lavender and creams in dual-paneled, long-sleeved collared shirts, and an anthracite grey short-sleeve with a half cab zip. That’s paired with the oversized angular checkerboard full-zip training track tops in bold lavender and black cubist blocks for a complete set.

[bathroomforless]

Shop Bathroom4Less for our exclusive range of high-quality, durable column radiators, available in a variety of stylish colors including sleek black, elegant anthracite, and classic white. From traditional designs to modern electric column radiators, find the perfect radiator for your home at the best online prices. Whether you're looking for 2 column, double column, or tall column radiators, our products offer efficient heating and long-lasting performance. Upgrade your home with Bathroom4Less today!

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue November 1, 1963

Brigitte Bauer wears a tailored two-piece dress in fine-checked cashmere—charcoal and black—with this season’s longer jacket, exquisitely proportioned lapels, a casual little tie at the waist. Order from Mainbocher. Jewelry by David Webb. Hair by Kenneth.

Brigitte Bauer porte une robe deux pièces sur mesure en cachemire à carreaux fins - anthracite et noir - avec la veste plus longue de cette saison, de petits revers aux proportions exquises, une petite cravate décontractée à la taille. A commander chez Mainbocher. Bijoux David Webb. Coiffure Kenneth.

Photo Horst P. Horst vogue archive

[popatochisssp]

Aesthetics Ref - D Bros

Nickname: Kohl (D!Sans)

Height: 3” taller than you (OR 5’2”)

Eye-lights: Eclipse blue (#000020), magic otherwise manifests anthracite black (#383e42)

Magic Specialty: Blue, red, cyan

Scars/distinguishing marks:  Only the left eye-light manifests, blackened extremities in a gradient up to the shin and forearm and darkest at the fingertips and toes, sharp needle-like teeth, thorny protrusions sparsely dotting his body (blackened at the tips as well), small with the exception of one slightly larger dark (devil) horn on the left side of his skull

Preferred Style: Casual goth, in line with the dark and occasionally macabre aesthetic, but without the commitment to any involved outfit assemblage. Favors all black and any colors that enter his wardrobe tend to be dark or gray-tinged, corpse blues and sickly greens. Strong preference for thick and heavy fabrics and materials, layering thinner, lighter clothes if lacking options.

Outerwear: Button jackets, mid-to-long, sometimes accompanied by loosely tied or lazily draped scarves

Top: Plain shirts, in a variety of configurations (short-sleeved, long-sleeved) solid pieces and almost never button-downs. Prefers rounded collars but not opposed to a turtleneck from time to time, singular (dark) colors or extremely subtle patterns

Bottom: Long pants, black denim a favorite, slim fit or only slightly baggy

Footwear: Plain black slip-ons, some boots, mostly combat style but with a few slightly dressier pairs

Trademark accessory/accessories: None, except that it’s rare to see him in any other color but black, and he has a noticeably slimmer profile than any of the other Sanses

-

Nickname: Bram (D!Papyrus)

Height: 1’2” taller than you (OR 6’1”)

Eye-lights: None (magic otherwise manifests charcoal black [#36454F])

Magic Specialty: Blue, green, orange

Scars/distinguishing marks: Blackened extremities in a gradient up to the wrist and ankle and darkest at the fingertips and toes, sharp needle-like teeth, many moderate-sized thorny protrusions (blackened at the tips) on his body, concentrated along both arms and spine

Preferred Style: Dark academia, he’s fond of old-fashioned styles and wants to look neat and presentable, but practical enough to move and work in. Tends to avoid patterns or bright colors, as well as synthetic materials, in favor of simple designs and natural dyes and colors.

Outerwear: The occasional jacket or blazer, denim or wool, but generally prefers to go without (he likes to show off the spikes on his arms and that’s harder to do when they’re completely covered)

Top: Undershirt tanks beneath simple button-downs (usually rolled up to the elbow), often paired with vests on special occasions, or worn beneath overalls if he’s working

Bottom: Overalls, slacks (mostly plain and solid color, but some pinstripe), and jeans (cuffed), little else

Footwear: Sturdy work boots (for work), knee-high boots (for fun), generally prefers leather ones and laces over zips or buckles

Trademark accessory/accessories: A fan of button-hole suspenders and may often accent his look with them, but also almost never seen ungloved—he has a strong preference for leather driving gloves but is willing to change it up with a nice suede pair, or something heavier duty for work purposes