#blue period wallpaper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

decaffeinatedcandycane · 3 months ago

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Random headcanons: You set their wallpaper of a spicy picture of you

Featuring: Task force 141

Warnings: suggestive, NSFW

Captain John Price:

He rarely unlocks his phone during the day, so you assume it is safe to set his wallpaper to you wearing nothing but his hat, sitting on the bed, legs spread, hands tied in the front with a silky ribbon and one of his cigars between your lips.

You did not account for the fact that sometimes Price shows memes to his team or fact checks stuff in front of others, so you can imagine the shock on his face when he unlocked his phone to show Soap something.

Soap: Sir? Is this-

Price: Yes, it is

The conversation ended there, with the Scotsman leaving the room in a subtle, yet fast manner, trying to hide the forming buldge from his captain, who, on his side noticed everything, but decided not to comment on it, in order not to make the situation more uncomfortable than it already was.

Yes, Soap avoided Price for the entire day and they have never spoke about the incident again. Even though the captain notices his Sergent hungrily eyeing you from time to time, which makes his mind wonder of certain possibilities. (If you are into it)

As for you, you did get your punishment, after you spent 20 minutes laughing at your husband story.

Y/N: Poor Soap

Price: What about me? I had to avoid unlocking my phone all day.

Y/N: You never unlock your phone.

Price: There was not a reason for it, luv.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

This man is phone rotting, whenever he is away from others and has some free time. Whether it is Reddit, Tiktok, or texting you - obsessively, he is on his phone - period.

For his picture you wear a sexy black lingerie, barely covering you and his balaclava. You are sitting on the sofa, with your elbows on your knees, leaning into the front camera, his dog tags hanging from your neck.

Simon goes feral.

He is immediately finding a quiet place from where he can call you and jerk off, while staring at your picture.

He will beg you to praise him, order him around and guide him in what to do and you can say anything - and I mean, anything.

This man is a slut for you. He is a huge switch. When he turns submissive he is completely at your mercy. Just, please, tell this man what to do and how you want him to do it.

Bonus points if you video chat and touch yourself, while edging him. He will try to hold himself back, but if you push him enough, he will cum within minutes.

This is how much power you have over him. Use it wisely.

And yes, Simon will absolutely fuck you stupid the moment he gets home. And will insist on taking pictures together, so he can keep something while on deployment.

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

He will open his phone in front of Ghost and get lost, staring at the photo of you, hand mindlessly grabbing Simon's tight.

For his picture, you are laying face on the bed, back arched, wearing nothing but tight blue panties with the scottish flag on them. Side boob is slightly showing.

Soap doesn't even register Simon or where his hand is, who is shifting from side to side, but not peeling his eyes off of you, nor removing Soap's hand from his tight.

When the Scottsman finally snap from his trance, he is texting you every spicy thing he can think of and sending you pictures of his, and Simon's buldges with the caprion:

"Look what you did, darling. LT wants to stop for some dinner tonight, now too. Make sure to recreate the picture once we get home. We are gonna put some English in you too."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Another chronic phone user. Gaz is on his phone 23/19. He is obsessed with animal videos and staring at ya'll pictures. Editing and candid photo stuff is his drug.

You warn him in advance that you will send him something, as he has the habit of showing off his editing skills*ahem* your cutesy couple photos *ahem* to either Price, or Laswell.

The last thing you want is to flash his superiors.

So, you tell him to unlock his phone at a specific time and make sure he is alone.

The picture for him is you wearing his sunglasses, naked, on the balcony. You are sat on a chair, legs crossed. The picture is taken at sunrise, right when the sun is softly highlighting your chest.

Somehow Gaz didn't time this right, he expected a attachment, not a wallpaper - in his defense, and he opened his phone in the middle of a briefing.

The sergeant dropped his phone on the ground while trying to catch it, creating the (trying to hold a hot stone effect). Price shot him a questioning look, but kept talking, pretending not to notice how Gaz picked his phone face down and put it in his pocket.

For the entire briefing Gaz couldn't focus on anything but your picture. He tried so hard, not to get a boner, but knowing you took the said photograph while he was sleeping, maybe 15 minutes before he got up for work - got him wild.

He went radio silent the entire day and when he got home, he didn't bother talking, or greeting you - Gaz just lifted you up from the couch and smashed his lips into yours.

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thenordroom · 5 months ago

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Moody Gray Tones and Period Details in a Victorian Townhouse

A Small Swedish Apartment with Warm Color Accents

Loft Spaces in a Former School Conversion in Rotterdam

William Morris Wallpaper in a Scandinavian Apartment

A Lovely Apartment in George Orwell’s Former Home

A Light Coastal Home in England

Warm Tones and a Blue Hallway in a Stockholm Apartment

A Charming Apartment in an Art Deco Building in London

A Charming Top-Floor Apartment in an Art Deco Building

#interior

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hometoursandotherstuff · 6 months ago

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Mid-century was the era of shiny foil wallpaper and bright floral patterns. Here's a 1962 time capsule that has the hippest decor of the period. It's in Abington, PA, has 4bds, 2.2ba, and $449,900.

The entrance foyer is elegant in foil paper that looks like a mirrored wall.

The living room is open.

And, it's a large space.

The dining room has nice uplighting.

The kitchen is surprisingly large and is eat-in.

And, just like a modern open concept home, it shares space with the family room.

There's a nice modern fireplace and doors to the patio.

Check out the completely original blue guest powder room. They even have the custom made vertical blinds and they look brand new.

Very large back room has lots of space for freezers, a desk, whatever. It has the floral wallpaper with a matching shade and valance. It was also the fashion to wallpaper the ceilings.

Going up to the bedrooms. White wrought iron railings were popular.

The spacious primary bedroom.

Has a nice walk-in closet.

The yellow primary bath has a fancy original sink cabinet and a vanity table, plus the original yellow sink.

The secondary bedroom is large, too. It was also the fashion to wallpaper everything, like the closet doors and light switches.

This home is beautifully preserved. Original bath with an overhead light, shiny foil wallpaper, and double pink sinks.

This very large room is on the lower level.

Huge rec room has a picture window with a door to the yard.

Another guest powder with a corner sink.

Oh, it has a cedar closet for wool clothes so the moths don't get them.

A big basement with laundry and a workshop.

The garage is in the back of the house.

Patio.

There's lots of room for a pool on the .43 acre lot.

It's really a gem.

https://www.compass.com/listing/1863-hemlock-circle-abington-pa-19001/296867959288971521/

#time capsule homes #mid-century modern homes #MCM architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

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bubuslutty · 1 year ago

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Omg single dad Price?? Cliche as hell but hits all the right spots when ovulating hahah

omd thank you so much for this ask anon!

I've had so much writing abt single dad price! I hope I delivered 💙

cod mw2 masterlist

word count: 2.1k

tags: fem!reader, she/her, no descriptions of physical appearance, poc friendly, sfw

warning: none.

a/n: I wrote this on my periods and by God do I want this man so horribly bad. my mind is infested with filth when I think abt him but I also want to write fluffy things for him :((

okay so single dad price au

first of all, in my head, for some unknown reason, he'd have 2 boys, maybe twins and 1 little girl, the youngest. I see them as all being under 10 years old.

maybe you first met through one of his friends, Johnny maybe, who decided to invite you to travel down to Price's place all the way from Glasgow for some sightseeing and touristy stuff, or going to a festival or going to a show to see one of your favorite bands.

You knew Price, heard of him a couple of times but never met him face to face. and lo and behold when you do, your heart does a little flip and a giggle comes out of your mouth when he introduces himself and sticks his hand out, smiling down at you.

I SORRY BUT I'M WHIPPED FOR THIS MAN-

luckily he doesn't mind the giggle and his smile just becomes even bigger, because it's evident you're happy to be there, happy to meet him. and if Johnny likes you, Price is bound to like you as well.

And he does like you, easily swapping jokes and laughing together with Johnny. He gets comfortable pretty quickly with you, he leans forward and nods to whatever you say, seemingly captivated by your whole aura. After a whole pint of beer, he unbuttons two more buttons of his short-sleeved shirt. It was already hot outside, so maybe he wanted to cool down but his eyes say otherwise.

John is fucking massive, that you can tell by his body, even tho Johnny tells you he's a busy dad of 3 children, he somehow still manages to still go to the gym. He has both muscles with a healthy layer of fat on them, and you can appreciate a big man with a soft tummy but with the strength of a bull.

You've seen pictures of John before, shown to you by Johnny on multiple occasions. And his back still haunts your dreams. In a good way. He had such a huge back that you wanted to just climb it and cling to it.

And that man had huge arms and veiny hands with blond hairs on them, and a nice full beard on his face and fluffy hair with the warmest eyes you've seen. And the absolute unit of shoulders to waist ratio ever. And to top it off that man has WICKED hips, thighs and ass.

He mentions his kids once or twice over some drinks and yorkshire pudding burritos. And you sit up, interested and curious. You ask about their ages, names and because he's such a dad, he obviously has to show you his wallpaper of his boys and girl.

You lean closer to look at them, and they're so cute, with blond hair just like him, his boys have brown eyes while his little girl has blue ones. And they're genuinely adorable that you Aww at every picture he shows you.

This leads to Johnny telling you anecdotes from when they were little, like nappies little, and how one of his sons peed on him in the middle of changing his nappies once.

It's all fun and games until Johnny frowns down at his phone when he receives a message and he excuses himself, telling you and John how he has a thing to take care of, so he's leaving you two together to have some fun, and for John to take advantage of his child-free time.

Johnny leaves after giving you a tight hug and a wink, walking out of the nice pub John frequents.

"So… What's your favourite colour?" You asked, biting your lower lip and staring at John through your eyelashes.

And he seemed taken back by your question, "My favourite colour?"

"Yeah," You nodded, feeling a bit anxious for asking such a silly question, but you really wanted to get to know him, starting by asking him innocent questions and analyzing his reactions to them.

"Blue. What about you?" He answered with a shrug and a small smile.

"Me too! It's also my favourite colour!" You gasped, excited.

John chuckled at your excitement, taking a swing of his beer while you toyed with your phone like a fidget toy.

"I don't remember anyone ever asking me about my favourite colour, except my kids of course, and that one face paint artist at school fairs." John said and you giggled again.

"What did you get painted on?" You asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sonic the hedgehog." He sighed and you started laughing, eyes watering and shoulders shaking, even snorting once and slapping a hand to your mouth, eyes wide and cheeks hot.

John doesn't think twice before prying your hand away from your face, "Don't. A snort isn't going to chase me away."

"And uhm, I know why we're here, really here. Johnny isn't as subtle as he thinks he is." John confessed and looked away from your face, as if embarrassed.

"It's alright if you don't want to get together or anything, we could forget this ever happened, John." You said, placing a hand on top of his and leaning closer to look at his face better.

He looked at you as soon as those words left your mouth, "I didn't say anything about not wanting to get together-"

"Really?"

John sighed and grabbed and squeezed your hand, running his other hand through his beard, "Listen, you're absolutely lovely, charming and as beautiful as Johnny claims you to be. I do want to get to know you better, It's just– I'm not really someone you easily date."

You smiled, "You're a package deal."

"Excuse me?"

"Buy one, get three free." You said, watching the absolute giant of man look at you all worried as if there was something wrong with him.

John was stunned, looking at you as if you grew an extra head.

"What? You thought I'd agree to meet and flirt with you, knowing I won't get with a single parent?" You said, scooting closer to him, resting your chin on your palm and looking at him through your pretty eyelashes.

"I don't know if this is of any help, but I'm the oldest of 4 children, and my youngest sibling is 15 years younger than me. So little kids don't scare me, trust me." You said, puffing your chest as if you were a decorated soldier with veteran experience in taking care of little shits.

John cracked a small smile, "I'm sure you're a great older sister."

"I try my best." You humbly said, bowing your head and John chuckled again.

"So, how about we go for a walk and you can tell me all about your workout routine, you can't be the only one looking like a much hotter version of Superman." You said and John all but agreed.

And you do go for a walk, and chat about everything and anything. and you have so much fun that John forgets what time it is for a bit and gets surprised when his alarm rings and he has to go pick up his kids from school.

You say bye to each other and he says how he's going to invite you and Johnny over for a hangout with his other guys back at his place.

So you do go, you keep meeting him, and you eventually meet his kids, and they're lovely, polite and wary of you at first, because they're still very young and are children to parents who don't like or love each other like most parents do.

So you try your best to approach them in the best way possible, and decide to tell them nothing but the truth and talk to them like you'd talk to adults.

So when you start seeing their dad, he tells them one night over dinner, just the, and you also confirm it to them when you get invited over, "I like your father.

And his boys look up from their legos and his little girl stops flying a dinosaur in the air right before she crashes it on a city made out of blocks and barbie dolls.

"We know." The twins say at the same time and they shrug, resuming their play.

"Dinosaur?" The little girl hands you another dinosaur, and you nod, and take it from her little hand.

"Dinosaur." You repeat and you watch her dive the dinosaur's head to a barbie's head and act like he was eating the barbie, so you did the same thing, with added sound effects.

You don't expect the children to call you mum, you aren't overly friendly with them or force your friendship on them. You give them space, time and respect. And John seems to be incredibly grateful for it, even if he doesn't comment on it, but his eyes and smiles say enough.

Things slowly evolve, and the children start asking for you when you're not around.

"Dad, where's your friend?" One of his boys asked him on the way to get ice cream after school.

"You mean dad's girlfriend." The other twin corrects his brother.

"Are you boyfriend girlfriend?" His little girl asks.

"She's busy with work at the moment, and we're not dating, not yet, at least." John says.

"Not yet?"

"Why?"

"But we saw you kiss in the kitchen!"

"Please be boyfriend girlfriend! She's nice and she's better at helping us with homework than you!"

So John is now stuck in his car, being roasted by his children on their way to get ice-cream, and he shuts them up when he tells them they won't officially date until all of them like you.

Which they obviously already do and they agree very quickly.

So Price takes you out on a date, to officially ask you out, with his children as some sort of witnesses and official welcome to their family.

They're in a nice italian restaurant, nothing too fancy, and he's wearing a light blue button up with a pair of slacks that do more than justice to his legs and hips. And he looks so so nice, hair brushed back and beard trimmed and oiled up, and he has a watch on his wrist and a bracelet his little girl made him on the other hand.

His little boys are wearing button up shirts in different colours and slacks, and his little girl is wearing a blue dress with a dinosaur pin on her hair, keeping her curls away from her face. And as soon as you show up, her face lights up and she excitedly shows you her dress, spinning around, and telling you that's "It's blue! Like your favourite colour! Like dad's favourite colour!" And she also shows you the dinosaur hairpin and you all but melt and tell her how pretty she looks, and how handsome his boys look.

"You also look very handsome." You smile at John and he blushes a bit, taking your hands in his while his children watch with wide curious eyes.

"And you look very beautiful, darling." He says and you bat your eyelashes at him, "Thank you."

He kisses the back of your hands and he pulls your chair out for you to sit, and you grin and sit down. And then the children all start talking at the same time, about what they'd like to order and what you should try and what they think you'd like, so obviously they have been here before and it's a family favourite.

John tells his little gremlins to calm down and you guys start by ordering drinks and some breadsticks, then he actually has a whole speech prepared about how he's been very happy with you and would love for you to officially join their family.

And while he's saying his speech, his eyes never leaving yours, you don't notice one of his boys holding a small piece of paper under the table and nodding along to his dad's words, and the other twin holding a up thumbs up to show that John is saying everything he's written down.

While John’s little girl somehow pulled a small dinosaur toy out of nowhere and is making it sit on the table and watch you both.

"I'd love to be your girlfriend, and join your family, John." You say when John's done and his children all cheer at the same time, making some people from other tables glance at you.

"Congratulations." The twins say at the time, shaking your hand and their father's in quite a formal manner, making you giggle, "Thank you, gentlemen."

"Can we eat now?" John's little girl asks, and nobody asks why she had shoved tissue inside her dinosaur's mouth, probably mimicking feeding it.

John laughs and nods, "Yes, we can."

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @reveluving @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leigh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @chaoticevilbakugo @Lacunaanonymoused @whore4dilfs

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rwrbmovie · 1 year ago

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BTS of #RWRBMovie: set design

Oval Office:

As you might have imagined, the production did not have access to the actual White House for the scenes set there. Those sets were built on a soundstage. "We took a deep dive into researching the White House, so the construction is based on the actual building," production designer Miren Marañón said in a press brief. Since United States presidents are able to decorate the Oval Office how they'd like, Marañón's aim was to "convey the character of a woman who was bold and made it to the top." So, the design team incorporated a color palette of soft blues and oranges. "Orange is a color you need to take carefully, but I thought Ellen [the president] could handle it and it was brave of her to have that in the Oval," Marañón said. The White House sculptures subtly enhance the fictional first-ever woman president’s design touch. "They are almost all female sculptures," Marañón added. "You can see Lady Liberty, the Scales of Justice, a Valkyrie warrior, and other women throughout history who have been part of the political changes in America."

Alex & Henry's bedrooms:

“We kept in mind Alex can only live in the White House for four or possibly eight years and then he has to leave, so for that period of time he's made the room his own and it's designed for the person he is now,” Marañón explained. "Whereas Henry has lived in Kensington Palace all his life, so the idea is the room was mainly designed by others, not himself." Alex's bedroom has a relaxed feel with contemporary furniture and an eclectic mix of items he treasures. "The artwork behind his bed is a painting I had made that says 'cielo y tierra,' which means 'the sky and earth,'" Marañón said. "I wanted him to have something in Spanish, representing his roots." Henry's bedroom, while designed to fit into the traditional palace, still has ties to his personality. Marañón explained: "We put up classic green wallpaper, which resonates with Henry, who loves the outdoors. That kind of dusty green is a very British color as well. It could be considered somewhat old for a young person, but Henry is a bit of an old soul in many ways."

Source: House Beautiful

Miren Marañon via Instagram on the 'Cielo y Tierra' painting:

I design it with our graphic department from scratch as we wanted something original that demonstrate Alex character. I don’t think I can share the file publicly but I’ll email amazon to see if they can share it.

#rwrb movie #rwrbedit #rwrbsource #red white and royal blue #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #Prince Henry #henry #bts #rwrbbts #*#my stuff

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muuuumin · 1 year ago

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I know people liked the idea of Victorian Era Jaytim but someone mentioned Regency period and thats when Pride and Prejudice is set in, WE HAVE TO GIVE JASON HIS HAND SCENE. (Iykyk but HERE)

Timothy Drake-Wayne despised the ball parties his guardian would hold on a weekly. Duke Wayne was a good father and definitely earned the favour of the public when he took in the orphaned son of the Drakes, but he could seriously take a break with the noisy gatherings of flute glasses, giggles and a socialising that would most likely tire Timothy out within minutes of conversation.

Which was why he was currently hiding in the corner of the ballroom, shrinking back into the delicate wallpaper as best he could.

"You know, if you're trying to blend into that godawful wallpaper, you should have dressed in a lighter shade."

Tim's head whipped up from his cradled flute of champagne, blue eyes landing on a man grinning at him with a chuckle. He had on a top half of a startling dark red mask, his strong cut jawline exposed and giving highlight to the shape of the man's face. But Tim found his streak of white hair that fell handsomely over his forehead to be most attractive.

The young Earl cleared his throat when he realised he had been staring instead of giving an appropriate answer just as his Mother made sure to integrate into his education.

"And what shade would you suggest, Sir?" He glanced back at the patterned wall. "Ivory and gold for the accents or perhaps if I stood in front of the painting, I could wear pink and green." His voice was utterly fake and not missed by the other man.

He saw his green eyes glance at the painting he had mentioned, lips pulling into a quick smirk.

"As much as I'd desire to see you in the colour of a blushing rose, I rather like you in the darker shades." The man leaned in a little closer, as if telling Tim a secret. "It's much easier to hide in the night, don't you think? No one would know if we were to slip out to the gardens."

Another grin, and another skip of Tim's heart.

"Lord Todd." Timothy gave him a half hearted glare to warn him, his eyes flickering across the people that surrounded them, but luckily were not paying attention to the young gentlemen in a corner.

"Must you be so formal? Timothy, my love."

Jason whispered the last two words, the intimacy of the name bringing colour to Tim's cheeks. He was glad this was a masquerade ball, it would be utterly scandalous if he was caught blushing from the words of Lord Jason Todd, the Baron of Gotham's underbelly. It was the gossip of the whole city when Jason had been cast away from Wayne Manor and for years he was presumed dead, until the night he swooped in to gain control of land and businesses that had been corrupted. It was whispered that he had used methods that would usually warrant arrest but the elites of society benefitted from his erasure of the criminals so they kept quiet and allowed him into a higher society. He still had some influence as a past Wayne.

"Come, let us go and enjoy the night. Away from society." Jason whispered again, filling Tim's heart and soul with promises he knew he would keep. He gave a small nod and watched as his secret lover melted away into the crowds, slipping outside by himself to avoid attention.

Timothy waited a few seconds, that was all he could give before he followed Jason, heart in his throat as he ignored the pointed look from Duke Wayne from across the room and successfully stepped outside. His feet hurried to the gardens, thankful that the hedges were tall and the moon was only a crescent moon.

"Jason?" He whispered, listening for the sounds of leaves. His eyes darted around as he travelled deeper into the gardens, huffing a little when he realised Jason had purposely left him to find him.

Timothy finally found Jason at the corner of the maze, waiting patiently with his arms crossed over his chest. Tim took a small gulp as he stood a bit away from him, both pair of eyes assessing the other and filled with a dangerous desire. His slender fingertips slowly reached up, removing his own sleek red mask from his face. When it fell to the ground, he swore he heard Jason take a sharp intake of breath, blue eyes shyly looking up at him again.

"I love you in red." Jason said, his voice low and almost a groan.

Tim let out a light laugh, hiding it behind his hands. "Is that all?" He asked in a teasing tone.

Jason stepped forward, his arms now falling to his side. "No." He answered.

Tim waited with his breath held.

Jason's fingers reached out to gently hold Tim's hand, thumb smoothing over the back of his hand as if touching silk. Tim felt like he was never going to breath again, blue eyes wide as he looked at Jason, his own green eyes casted downwards as he tilted his head forward.

Jason brought Tim's hand up to his lips, kissing the lengths of his fingers so lightly Tim wondered if this was a dream.

"I love you, everything about you. Most ardently."

#I know he went further than just touch his hand but HOW ROMANTIC #theyre so scandalous #Oops we dont look for historical accuracies btw #we are just here for the ship #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #red hood #red robin #dont ask me if Duke Wayne is a regency batman #the hand kissing was the furthest jaytim have gone and its so sexy

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monsterblogging · 7 months ago

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Fuck JKR: How To Create A Harry Potter-Esque Aesthetic Without Any Harry Potter In It

So I saw a few posts from people mentioning that a reason people might be into Harry Potter is because of the aesthetic or atmosphere, and ya know what? I can't even argue that, because if there's one thing about HP, it's that it Sure Does Have Aesthetic And Atmosphere.

So! I'm gonna tell you how to STEAL ITS LOOK! Because:

JK Rowling considers ANY support of her work to be support of her politics.

Fan content/fan merch is still free advertisement for Rowling's work. YOU might not choose to give her money, but you can't be sure you won't pull people into the fandom who will.

Everyone should create more things that aren't tied to corporate-owned IP, period.

So. Most things in these films have an aged, antique look. You'll see a lot of brown hues, both on sets and on people's clothes. There's a lot of near-blacks (especially charcoals and walnuts) and lighter grays on the sets, especially from the third film onwards. (Wood is more often than not stained dark, while lighter hues are often provided by bricks or plaster.) The last two films use a lot of stormy blues and grays. Prisoner of Azkaban also emphasizes contrast between tones, which heightens a sense of texture. True black also appears throughout the films, such as on students' uniforms and many Death Eaters' outfits, and on the chairs in Malfoy Manor. White appears occasionally, especially on Hedwig, students' shirts, or during winter scenes, but pure white isn't otherwise really common. Paper or parchment is usually warm beige. There's also a lot of silver, gold, and brass, often appearing on things like dishware, tools, trinkets, Christmas baubles, and so forth. Bronze also comes up occasionally.

Reds, yellows, blues, and greens are pretty common throughout the films, even outside of Hogwarts, though you'll see just about every color somewhere. For example, orange is often found around the Weasleys, and orange, maroon, and purple feature in the divination classroom. Teal features prominently in Grimmauld Place (contrasted with saffron yellows).

Most colors aren't really super bright; a lot of the time they look a little faded, or like they're colored with natural dyes. If you use medieval illustrations to source your colors, or aim for earth tones and jewel tones, you'll be about right for a lot of what you see in the films. Bright colors are pretty rare; some of the brights we do see are in Honeydukes, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and certain magical effects, such as Floo fire.

A lot of light is provided by candles, torches, or fireplaces, which cast a warm yellow/orange light. Moonlight is represented by blue light in the first and second films. Blue light is also used for the Goblet of Fire and the penseive.

Another thing you gotta have in there is clutter. It should look kinda antique and give off a kind of magical or mystical atmosphere. Think books, storage jars, orreries, crystal balls, old lamps, antique clocks, vintage glassware, antique mirrors, old teapots, and little metal trinkets. (If you're trying to decorate a physical room, your stuff doesn't have to actually be antique, of course; antique-styled is fine.)

Texture is also very important, which can be represented with full or top grain leather book covers, stone walls, dents and scratches, cracks, embellishments, and embossing. Additionally, all damage and wear gives a sense of oldness to things. Stains and variegated colors also add interest. (If you're decorating a physical space, you might look into aging/distressing/antiquing techniques.)

If you want a space to look cozy, you don't really want bare or blank walls. Shelves, paintings, tapestries, and wallpaper can all help with that. Again, use brown, rather than black. Warm, yellow lighting will also help. If you lean toward blacks and cool lighting, you're going to have a colder-looking space.

Fashion in the wizarding world is extremely all over the place, ranging from stereotypical fantasy witch and wizard clothing, to pretty normal vintage clothing, to some wacky vintage-inspired looks, to the kind of fashion that would be put under the cozycore umbrella, to ordinary modern clothing. One thing that's absent is subculture fashion as we know it. (Bellatrix Lestrange does look kinda goth, but it's less a subculture thing, and more a "yeah we're putting our bad guys in fancy black stuff" thing.)

If you're trying to lean into the whole quirky/eccentric/old-fashioned kinda thing, you'll want to pass over the more modern and obviously synthetic type stuff. Also, patterns, textured fabrics, knits, mixed colors, lace, and other embellishments can add interest to outfits.

Architecture is also all over the place. Hogwarts is pretty medieval, while places like Diagon Alley give more Victorian vibe. The main thing is looking old fashioned and quaint.

To try and summarize all of that:

Browns. Lots and lots and lots of browns. Blacks and grays, too. Contrast between light and dark browns and blacks/grays.

More beige and gray than pure white; more charcoal gray and dark walnut brown than true black.

Among other colors, mostly earth tones and jewel tones. Very limited brights.

Polished metal and glass also add shininess.

Old-fashioned. Vintage. Antique.

Clutter, texture, patterns, variegation. Minimalist/clean aesthetic avoided.

Aged and distressed.

Lighting often yellow/orange due to coming from fire. Blue/teal light often coming from moonlight and certain magical light sources.

Now, here are some things we actually don't see. I'm not mentioning them to discourage you from using them if they're what you really want, but to inform you about them so you can consider whether they might throw off the vibe for you:

Green/purple/black combos.

Purple/silver/black combos. Pink/purple/teal combos.

Pink/black combos.

Orange/black combos.

Green/orange/purple combos.

Red/black combos.

Basically a lot of combos commonly associated with Halloween, witches, or vampires.

Big raw crystals. We see crystal balls now and then, but that's it.

Other natural items used as decorations - feathers, pinecones, sticks, etc. The one exception I can think of are the shells embedded in the walls of Shell Cottage.

Crushed velvet. Lots of fantasy uses this, HP films don't.

If you need inspiration, go look up medieval and renaissance diagrams and illustrations of stuff like the four elements, the zodiac, the solar system, and all that. Go look up alchemical symbols and emblems. Search up pre-WWII vintage ephemera. Go look up Victorian clipart. Look up stuff like botanical, zoological, and astronomical books and art from the 17th-19th centuries. Look up vintage wallpaper and fabric patterns. Look at vintage-style crafts. Research period architecture and fashion. Research European heraldry.

If you're wondering what exactly you're going to design around without Hogwarts and the Four Houses, here are some suggestions:

The four classical elements (earth, air, fire, and water)

The four seasons

Card suits - Tarot, French, whatever you want

Holidays - Halloween, Christmas, whatever

Fairy tales

Flowers

Mythical creatures

Bugs

Birds

Any other animals you like

Ecosystems

Your own original worldbuilding

So yeah, there ya go. You don't need to keep participating in HP to indulge in the aesthetic.

[NOTICE: Anybody who clowns on this post by making this about them and their childhood, patting themselves on the back about their chosen means of "ethical" participation, praising the fandom, or adding any other form of irrelevant bullshit is getting blocked. Also, I don't want to hear about PJO or Earthsea again for the millionth time, either.]

#harry potter #anti harry potter #anti jkr #aesthetic #aesthetics #art #worldbuilding

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artficlly · 6 months ago

Text

a dish served cold (mini series - part two)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, sexual tension, guns, knives, violence, mention of death of a parent, mention of gambling, mention of sex work, creepy men, period typical attitudes, outlaw bucky, protective bucky, bucky has issues, mention of robbery & crimes, mention of police (law), mention of bounty hunters, mention of flooding & drought, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: chapter two!! please let me know if you're enjoying this wild ride so far!! if you're enjoying the western au stuff i have two one-shots (me & the devil and king of pentacles) that you should check out!! they are linked on my main masterlist <3 if you'd like a tag list let me know. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

If the town of Crimson Junction had thought the pack of unruly travellers had reached their peak of restlessness, they were sorely wrong. The locals were now truly at their wits end. Two afternoons had passed, and chaos had descended. Men turned to drink to quell their boredom and sin followed as it always did. Brawls had broke out in mass, the hotel in ruins as rooms were used as makeshift whorehouses and gambling dens. You were kept up all night as the screaming, laughter, and moaning ensued around you. Violence, indulgence, and wickedness ran rampant through the streets. You had grown to expect nothing less of the once sleepy town.

The noise did not particularly bother you. You were kept up most nights regardless, tossing and turning at the thought of Barnes. Your dreams would replay the scene from the saloon, a moving picture beneath your eyelids. In your dream, you would beam at him, fluttering your eyelashes, while the outlaw watched on with his cold, blue eyes. He would stalk towards you, his callused hand stroking down your cheek. The dream you would lean into his touch, nuzzling his palm. Then he would wrap his hand around your throat, gripping you tightly. You would struggle, breathlessly clawing at him. His expression would be blank. Unphased.

You would awake, drenched in a cold sweat as breathless as in the dream.

Even when you were awake, you’d think of him still. His visage was so clear in your mind that it drove you to near insanity. He clung to you like smoke, your thoughts utterly consumed by him. You’d recall how his knuckles grew white or how his jaw clenched. You’d stare up at the ceiling, watching the sun rise and fall. You’d trace the patterns on the wallpaper and the creases on the sheets.

In the room beside you, the bed would squeak and bang. The force was so powerful and loud that the walls shook. Your hands would ghost across your bare skin, along your thighs, waist, and collarbone. Still, you’d think of him, Barnes. How long had he plagued your thoughts and your life? How long would he haunt you still? Was he the ghost, or were you? Permanently intertwined never to know a day of peace until your work was done.

The next time your mind wandered to him, your finger tracing the contour of your lower lip, you bit down hard on that finger until you swore you could taste blood.

—

When the news of a meeting made the rounds, you were relieved. The flowery wallpaper in your room was growing rather nauseating to stare at. A break from your slow spiral into lunacy was welcome news. Fresh air, you decided, would do you well, even if a rather suffocating and sticky heat had descended upon the canyons now that the rains had passed.

The mud had begun to dry in the midday sun, a thick skin developing and some sections cracking. The dry weather was a good omen for once. You didn’t think Crimson Junction had ever prayed for the sun to return. The pastor announced that the roads were predicted to be cleared by the end of the week, and the entire crowd breathed a sigh of relief. You couldn’t help but think it was the most civil you had seen them in your short stay. Maybe it was that natural reaction of fearing God and therefore his preachers. Though, after all you had witnessed, you were surprised the small town even had a church. It was even stranger that it seemed Crimson Junction was led by one, as there was no other authority present.

Not even a sheriff's office.

That did seem rather convenient.

The pastor spoke of his gratitude for the travellers patience and his admiration for the workers and survivors. You did not find his words particularly interesting, no matter how heartfelt they were. You had spent countless Sundays in church; it was instilled within you to zone out at the droning words of a preacher. You had been a good girl, yes, but never a good Christian. Hands tightly clasped together and chin high, your eyes had remained locked onto the back of a familiar head.

Barnes stood mingled within the crowd; you could see him well from your vantage point on the wooden porch of the general store. You stood alongside the other ladies who didn’t want to join the men crowded in the mud. You couldn’t help but notice how Barnes also did not seem to care for heartfelt speeches; instead, his attention was swayed away. You might have thought him to be bored of pastors and the almighty house of God, but you watched as his head repeatedly tilted in the direction of a small group of men who were huddled in front of an alley. The longer you watched the outlaw eye these men, the more you realised that the group of men eyed him back in return.

The men looked intimidating, dressed in black, and armed to the teeth. Well-polished guns were slung over their backs, bandoliers over their chests, and hair slicked back as they snickered between each other in a cloud of smoke. Their grins were vicious, bearing their teeth like wild dogs.

As the crowd dispersed, you moved with it. Through the layers of bodies, you watched as Barnes quietly dipped away in the direction of the stables and away from the group of men. He viewed them as a threat. Your curiosity peaked. The outlaw had always presented himself as untouchable, stone-like…an unmoveable force. It had never occurred to you that the most dangerous predator in the room might be prey to something bigger.

As soon as you were sure that there was enough distance, you followed the smoke quietly and discreetly, listening to their distant conversation. The pack of men paused around the corner of the alley, half standing in the street. The rough stone wall snagged against your clothing as you pressed your back flush against the surface. You inched closer to the end of the alley, your ears perking as you listened closely.

“I reckon he’ll be headed further west, tryna disappear into the desert.” One man spoke.

“How ya know he ain’t goin’ up north to join up with that buddy o’ his?” Said another.

“Nah, last I heard, he was doubling back east to throw off the scent.”

Your brows furrowed at their words, and you sucked in a sharp breath. A part of you was paranoid that the men might hear your breathing, or perhaps even your thundering heart. Your nails dug into the wall, the stone indenting into your palms. Were they foolish enough to publicly speak their plans, unaware of how their voices carried? That indicated arrogance. Bigger fish, indeed.

Your moment of thought was short-lived.

There was a slight rustle in your left ear, a shift in the air. With quick and calculated hands, you shifted your weight, your hand darting to your boot like a viper striking flesh. Within a split second, you had a small blade in your palm, the metal angled to harm as you drove it forward. The man next to you had no time to react, instead freezing in place as you pressed the blade against his throat.

It took a few seconds for the two of you to process, your eyebrows knitting into a frown as you realised who had slid up beside you. Barnes. When had he sneaked up behind you?

“Woah there, darlin’.” The outlaw grumbled lowly, lifting his hands in surrender. You held steady, scanning his face as you calculated your next move. You were a fool to think the outlaw would not notice you. A supposed simple girl and bride-to-be should not be stalking a group of dangerous individuals. It did raise the question of how long he had been watching you and assessing your character. Had he grown suspicious so easily after all the precautions and lies?

“Apologies. You startled me.” You slipped back, taking a large step within eyesight of the street. The group of men had now walked away, a cloud of smoke in tow. You watched as they sauntered into the saloon. Releasing a sharp breath and relaxing your shoulders, you straightened your spine. Giving Bucky a convincing smile, you acted as if nothing had happened.

“I can see that. And I can see ya weren’t jokin’ about bein’ able to handle yerself in these parts.” The outlaw huffed, his hands lowering, and his fingers twitched around his belt line. Monitoring him warily, you were ready to react to the slightest indication that he might draw. “But I’m beginnin’ to think ya weren’t too forthcomin’ about who ya really are in the saloon the other night.”

You angle your head at him, jaw tightening. You hoped you hadn’t wasted weeks of travel and planning for it all to be thrown away due to your misguised decision to play investigator. Your fist squeezed around your blade then, nostrils flaring as you allowed an intrusive, violent thought to flicker through your mind. This place, this evil place, and it’s vile people were already beginning to corrupt you. With a sigh, you tuck the knife back into your boot. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Mister.”

With your knife visibly out of sight, Barnes relaxes a little. His gaze swept over you, inspecting every detail of your outfit, before finally resting on your face. "Nah, it’s not… Just… don’t know why you’d be lookin’ to pick a fight with a group’a men like that.”

You viewed those men as competition, but you knew Barnes would not like your answer. So, you held your tongue, lifting your skirts as you turned to leave. The wooden boards squelched under your weight as you stepped further into the street. You’d never thought you would have missed the sand and dust, but you were beginning to find that you much preferred it to mud.

“Y’know, if you’ve got a price on yer head… and I ain’t sayin’ you got one but rather… a hypothetical, if I may. If you were runnin’ from something, I wouldn’t be worryin’ about those boys back there. They're lookin’ for bigger fish to fry than yerself. I suspect they would not take a second look in yer direction, ‘least not all dressed up like a proper lady like you is. You had me fooled, that’s for sure.”

Just as you had suspected. No wonder he had turned tail at the sight of them. You glanced over at him, observing as he kept up pace with you as you walked towards the hotel. “And what would you know of bounty hunters, Mr. Clark?”

He perked up at your words and let out a low whistle. “Best I not tell you, Miss.”

You smiled at that, then caught yourself. And idiot you were to find him somewhat charming, and an idiot you would continue to be if you were distracted.

“Where’d a lady like yerself learn to arm herself with a knife?” Barnes seemed unnerved by your silence, instead filling it with a question. Uncharacteristic of him, at least from what you had interpreted from his nature so far. A change from his attitude in the saloon, that was for sure.

“My Pa taught me,” you hummed in response. You couldn’t help but let a small, warm smile cross your lips at the thought of him. He had been a hardy man, always covered in sweat and ash. Still, the two of you had been close. He had always shown you respect and kindness, no matter your differences. “He and my Ma, well, they raised me to be a wife. My Ma wanted to set me up for a good life and hoped I would marry well.”

Your eyes cast over to the outlaw, who still followed your lead down the sunken street. He was enraptured by your words; his icy eyes locked onto your side profile. You continued your story, smile still tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was always about holdin’ one's posture straight, being charmin’ and pleasin’ to the eye. Cookin’, sewin’, washin’ and all that. My Pa, he said it was all well and good that I could balance books on my head while descendin’ a set of stairs or tap out a melody on a pianoforte, but it could only get one so far in life. Much to my Ma's horror, he taught me to handle a knife and guns too.”

Barnes was quiet, running his tongue over his bottom lip. You found yourself wondering if he had caring parents or if they had been strict and cruel. Were they still alive? Did they weep within every time they saw his face plastered on a bounty board?

“Why ain’t your daddy escortin’ you now?” The outlaw finally spoke up, a cruel snip to his tone.

Your eyes darted away from him, and your smile was replaced by a frown. “He’s dead.”

His steps falter, as if momentarily taken aback.

“Oh–” is all he manages, stumbling over his words. His brows furrow. “I–I’m–”

“He was shot.” You cut over him. Taking a sharp, deep breath, you turn your head to look at him fully. You offer him a sympathetic look, then catch yourself. As if he were the one who needed comforting. “He was a blacksmith. I have no other male relatives, and of course my Ma and I can’t do the work to run the business.”

“That’s why yer marryin’.” Barnes states, his voice sounds thick and he is unable to catch your eye. There was a sense of guilt that seemed to engulf his very being, as if your story momentarily summoned old ghosts. Haunted.

You were glad to see him squirm.

“Yes.” You reply, shoulders lifting in a weak shrug. “We sold the forge, but we can’t access the money. My savings—our savings—will be for my husband to handle once we are married. I will send funds back to my Ma, and all will be well again.”

“I’m sorry.” The outlaw offers, brows still drawn inward, crowsfeet etched into his skin. “That’s hard.”

You tilt your head in contemplation, then offer a simple reply. “That’s life.”

It was strange to think how easy it was to pretend you were comfortable with your position. That would had simply… come to terms with your new life. It was easy to put on a play and show the world what they wanted. A woman in complete control, despite the misfortune that had followed her.

The outlaw was right to feel unnerved by your casual disposition, because deep down, grief and rage boiled within you.

Pausing at a gap in the wooden boards, you raised your skirts in order to cross. Before you could walk into the mud, Barnes had circled around you. He offers a calloused hand, which you hesitantly took. With a strange gentleness to his grip, he guides you across the small gap onto the next row of wooden boards.

“Well, I hope they find the bastard who shot him.” He offers.

You almost laugh at the irony. Your head dips to hide the amused expression that slips past, strands of hair falling across your face. Barnes seems to interpret your actions as sorrow, as if the mention of your father had left you overcome with emotions. You do not protest as he shamefully leads you directly to the hotel porch, pausing to escort you up the slippery steps.

“I hope so too.” You finally reply, your voice low, and drop his hand. Stepping into the hotel, you do not allow him time to speak another word.

—

A gentleman outlaw, or maybe he was an outlaw who happened to be a gentleman. You pondered this for a while as the heat beat down, leaving a thin layer of sweat across your body. Your horse swayed beneath you, hooves steady, as she navigated the desert terrain with ease. She was a piece of home; melancholy would linger in your gut whenever you breathed in her scent. Your fingers twisted through the mare’s mane, lacing together like a tightly woven braid. It was a problem to weigh, for sure. Could a gentleman be an outlaw? And what defines a gentleman? You knew of many supposed gentlemen who fell pray to indulgence, too many drinks, whores, and gambling. Gentlemen who reeked of desperation, sullen and shallow creatures. You had known gentlemen to be cruel, to be kind, to be ignorant, or even to be fools. In your mind, you could see no difference between a gentleman and an outlaw, because both could be evil as equally as they could be kind.

Barnes had shown you kindness, yet he was a killer. He was an outlaw; that was printed as a fact, but could he be a gentleman too? You had always been taught to believe things in the world worked a certain way, ticking perfectly on time like a clock. Every second, the world would bring good things to good people and rain wrath upon those who sinned. But that illusion had been shattered many months ago when you were thrown into the world of men, unprotected and blind. Outlaw and gentleman, one in the same. It worried you.

You had travelled no more than five miles from Crimson Juction before dismounting your horse.

The roads had opened up early in the morning, giving you time to gather supplies, saddle your horse, and leave town unbothered. Your remaining time in the small crossroads town had been without event, sticking to your rooms and steering clear of drunk men and dangerous outlaws. Sometimes you sat at your window, watching the town move on with their days below you. You told yourself it was entertainment, a form of people watching, not a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of the dark-haired and broad-chested outlaw.

You ran a hand across your mare's chestnut coat, leaning down as you traced your hand down to her fetlock. You squeezed her leg, clicking your tongue as a quick instruction for her to lift her hoof. You placed it solidly between your thighs, pushing your skirts out of the way. Blowing a loose strand of hair from your face, you squinted down at the dirt-packed hoof. Your index finger traced the metal shoe with your finger, feeling each divet of the nails.

The crunch of rock was what alerted you to his presence first, whipping your head around to see Barnes atop his horse, armed with one of his distant looks. You smiled and pretended to look pleasantly surprised, wondering if he truly believed you had not noticed him tailing you for the past two miles. Dropping the hoof, you praised your mare with a quick pat on her muscled shoulder.

“Have you come to be my knight in shinin’ armour again?” You asked the outlaw, raising a hand to your brow, blocking the light from the sun.

“Depends.” Barnes grunted, sliding from his saddle. “Somethin’ wrong with yer horse?”

You sigh, rubbing the sweat from your forehead. You twist around to look back at your mare, your skirts twirling around you as you motion towards her hoof. “She was limpin’, poor girl. I think her shoe is loose.”

“I can take a look, if’chu want?” Bucky offered. He was still as foreboding as you had remembered, his stature taller than and his build wider. The sleeves of his buttoned-up shirt were rolled up to the elbow, revealing toned forearms kissed by the sun.

“Oh. Could you? I would be grateful.” Your hand comes to rest on your chest, and the outlaw grunts with a shrug. You step out of his way as he advances towards your mare, whispering to her quietly as he takes her hoof in his large palms to inspect.

You watch him, wondering if he was blinded by the sun or simply by you. He hadn’t once stopped to ask questions before putting himself in such a vunrable position, nor did his eyes drift towards the rifle tucked neatly into your saddle. How funny it was that he did not enquire why you were travelling alone on horseback, when mere days before you had told him your husband-to-be had paid for your safe arrival by coach.

“I don’t think there's anythin’ wrong with the shoe. Maybe there's a rock or somethin’ under all that dirt.” He mused and pressed his thumbs inward to see if your mare jerked in reaction. Still, not once did he look up, and not once did he question his safety. He did not seem to notice as you silently slid up besides your mare, tugging the rifle from the saddle.

You held your breath as you circled back around, the wooden stock of the gun placed firmly against your shoulder as you aimed the barrel at his head.

“Are yer sure she was limpin’? Maybe it’s the other side.” The outlaw muses, engrossed in his own thoughts.

“You could check if you like, Mr. Barnes.” You reply, your voice as sweet as ever.

It takes him a moment to click. He shakes his head, then freezes. “I ain’t never said my name was Barnes.”

You hold steady, digging your boots into the soil as Bucky slowly straightens up. His back faces you, and you can picture his muscled back beneath. Somehow the outlaw appeared more foreboding while collected and calm. He gradually turned. Maybe he had made himself smaller in your previous meetings so as not to scare you. Your heart thumped wildly, sweat slicking along your palms. He met your gaze, careful and slow, as his body faced you, hands raised in a quiet surrender.

You had to pray you weren’t being overconfident in your approach, or this could go very badly.

“I knew your name long before we met.” Your hands remained still, and the gun remained aimed. You observe him through the sights as he arches an eyebrow.

“Did I do somethin’ to you?” There was an unexpected anguish in his voice that hit you solidly in the gut. Your jaw clenches and your teeth grit as you remain silent. You had practiced this moment in your mind countless times, orchestrating your every movement and perfectly articulating your feelings and your story. But your jaw remained wired shut, any plans thwarted, because you were horrified to find you were teetering on the edge of sobbing.

“You know, I thought we was startin’ to become friends.” He speaks up once more, daring to take a step forward. You hiss through your teeth, striding towards him to ram the barrel into his chest.

“Drop your guns. Slowly.” You instruct.

There is a long instant of silence between the two of you, only the slight howl of the wind through the vast rock canyons. His movements slowed once more, and his hands hesitantly dropped to his belt. Your finger ghosts over the trigger as he carefully removes his guns, dropping them to the ground with a soft thud.

With one sweep of your foot, you kick the two pistols away, backing off a few paces. With a tut, you motion for him to step further away from the horses. He turns away from you, walking in the direction you indicated. With a sigh, he speaks up, cutting through the tense silence. “We can talk about this, ya know. Before you go puttin’ a bullet in me, sweetheart.”

You glare at him before huffing. “Get on the ground, lay on your stomach or I’ll shoot.”

Only as his body lay flat on the ground did you drop your aim. Still eyeing him, you back up towards your horse and grab the rope looped around the horn of your saddle. Your heartbeat nearly deafened you as you fumbled with the length, nerves beginning to show. You didn’t know what he made of you or what he thought you were. But now there were real stakes at hand—no opportunities to mess up.

Perhaps you were too preoccupied by those thoughts, or maybe your pulse had truly made you deaf. You didn’t notice the cloud of dust or the pounding of hooves until it was too late.

Abandoning the rope, you gripped your rifle once more, aiming it at the small group of men who had appeared from the canyons. Chest heaving, you watched as the leader smiled, his slicked-back hair obscured beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Spitting on the ground, he looked between you and Barnes, who remained on the ground, but his head was turned to watch.

“Good catch, Miss. Too bad I’m gonna have to take him off yer hands.”

PART THREE

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #marvel fanfic series #western au #wild west au #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel #a dish served cold

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