#portrait brownie

[marcherren]

Box camera photography (No. 2 Portrait Brownie)

[thatrickmcginnis]

THE BLUES - John Lee Hooker, Brownie McGhee, Frank Frost 1986-87

My first and only subject at the beginning of my career was music and musicians, probably because I was also a music journalist at the time. I was aware that blues music's moment was quickly passing into history so I grabbed opportunities to capture blues musicians whenever they passed through town - people like harmonica player and singer Frank Frost, who I photographed live at Albert's Hall in Toronto's now-long-gone Brunswick House. Frost, who was born in Arkansas in either 1936 or 1938, was a relative youngster, and he was recorded by Sam Phillips at Sun Records, who put out his Hey Boss Man! LP in 1962; Elvis' guitarist Scotty Moore would later produce his records for Jewel Records in Shreveport, LA. He was rediscovered in the '70s and toured with his band, the Jelly Roll Kings, which is how I photographed him live in 1986. I don't esteem my concert photography highly - with sufficient skill and equipment, almost any photographer can get the same photos - but this is a little record of an authentic blues musican plying his craft in the kind of venue where most blues players who could tour would appear - a room in a tavern or bar frequented by students, fans and aficionados. Frank Frost died in 1999, at just 63.

John Lee Hooker was an authentic blues legend, and when I learned that he would be playing the Diamond Club here in Toronto I did my best to try to get a portrait session - or what passed for one. Hooker was born in Mississippi anywhere between 1912 and 1923, and left home as a teenager, never to see his parents again. After performing on Beale Street in Memphis he moved north to a job at the Ford plant and gigs in Detroit's clubs. His driving guitar playing and clever, playful lyrics made him an immediate hit once he started recording in 1948, and he was always the kind of blues musician loved by rock bands and artists who wore their blues influences on their sleeves. The dressing room at the Diamond was full of fans, including young women sitting with their arms around Hooker, putting on his white hat. He didn't seem bothered, but he still projected a fierce dignity that let them know when they were going too far. My friend and colleague Chris Buck also talked his way into the dressing room with his camera, and we shot Hooker side by side while he interacted with his fans. Two years later he'd have a huge hit with his record The Healer, and begin a very successful final act to his career that would end with him owning five houses - three in California, including one in Los Altos where he would die in 2001.

Brownie McGhee was born in 1915 in Tennessee, the older brother of musician Stick McGhee, and was crippled by polio at a young age. He taught himself to play guitar and was promoted as "Blind Boy Fuller No. 2" by Columbia Records after the death of the original Fuller in 1941. He teamed up with harmonica player Sonny Terry and the duo became a big success, with a four-decade career that was boosted by the folk boom of the '50s and '60s and appearances in the Broadway productions of Finian's Rainbow and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and in the 1979 film The Jerk. McGhee had just appeared with Mickey Rourke in Alan Parker's occult-themed thriller Angel Heart when I photographed him in 1987, playing the musician Toots Sweet and getting great reviews. Boosted by the publicity from the film, he went on a tour that brought him to Toronto, playing the Horseshoe Tavern on Queen Street West, where I photographed him either before or after sound check in the laneway behind the club. Something went wrong when I was shooting McGhee and I ended up overexposing the roll by at least a couple of stops, which made the photos difficult to print back then, but have given the shots a suitably retro feel today after being carefully edited in Photoshop. McGhee played his last gig at the 1995 Chicago Blues Festival and died in 1996.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 17

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: racist microagressions, boundary crossing, and people in positions of power being scum, cursing wc: 2.4k

A/N: chapter concept was suggested by @scared-reader 👻 so if you like it thank them for the inspiring ask in the comments! (and feel free to submit your own if you've got an idea for me, you never know what's going to set off the unhinged writing monster in my soul 😅 )

Chapter Selection

Damian was at my apartment again. He'd come over after school, and the look on his face suggested there was something weighing him down. I got him set up at the table to do his homework, knowing he wouldn't be ready to talk until he felt his responsibilities were complete, and ordered pizza. While he worked, I made my grandmother's brownies. 

An hour later we were sitting on the floor in front of my tv, eating pizza and brownies, drinking soda, and playing mindless video games. Between rounds, Damian finally spoke up; “... There's an art show for our parents at my school next week … Father couldn't make it last year, something came up at work.���

I frowned a bit; “That sucks! ... Well, I'm sure he'll make it this year, yeah?”

“... Probably not. It's a busy time of year for him...”

“That's not fair…”

“It is what it is.” On the surface he sounded nonchalant about it, but after months of getting to know each other I was starting to catch the subtleties of his mannerisms and tones. And when he said ‘it is what it is' I heard, clear as day, the ache of unexpressed sorrow; the kind of sorrow that makes you feel selfish and cruel for caring at all over something so seemingly trivial.

“... Well, I know I'm not a parent, but I am an adult in your life who loves … your art. Think they'd let me come?”

“... You want to come?” he didn't even try to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Of course, if you're ok with it. … I remember how disappointing it was when my parents didn't come to my after school stuff. … Felt like I was the only kid in the room without an adult gushing over my work. I knew they were proud of me, they were just busy, but … I wanted my interests to be their priority for just a few hours. It hurt, seeing everyone else's adults make time for them when mine couldn't, and I don't want you to have to go through that too. So if you're comfortable with it I would be honored to get to go to your art show!”

Damian blinked a few times, looking down into his lap, and nodded. “... Ok. … Yeah, you … you can come. … It's Friday after school, from 4-6.” His voice came out a bit sharper than usual, like he was fighting to get the words out at all.

I smiled gently, pulling out my phone. “It's going right in my calendar. Will you already be there?” He nodded. “Perfect, … can Jace come too, or should I take the bus?”

Damian considered for a minute. “.... I suppose Todd can come. … It would be difficult to use the city bus to get to my school…”

I nodded. “Thanks kiddo.”

He opened his mouth, frowning slightly; “... I … why do you keep calling me that?”

I cringed slightly; “Sorry Damian, I keep forgetting you don't like it. I like to give people affectionate nicknames, it’s sort of second nature at this point I guess. I'll do better, I promise.”

“... No, it … it's ok, you don't have to stop. … I'm still not Dami though.”

I grinned, nodding. “You got it, kiddo.” Right, only Jon gets to call him Dami.

He nodded once, smiling a little.

Tears filled my eyes. The lump in my throat made it incredibly difficult to speak, but I had to say something; he was staring up at me with those big, guarded eyes, waiting for my response. “... Damian, it's-”

“Perfect…” Jason's arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest.

Damian's section of the art show was filled with portraits of his family and friends. And right in the center, on one of the biggest canvases I'd seen outside of a museum, was a painting of the three of us on my couch; me and Damian facing each other with Jason in the middle, his hand on my knees, just like the time they'd spent the night. The casual intimacy of our poses and easy smiles on our faces were like a dream for the future, laid bare in front of us.

It wasn't as easy as the painting made it look, not yet, but maybe someday it would be.

I nodded, agreeing with Jason; “it's beautiful~ you're so talented! … is … is that really how you see me?”

Damian hadn't made me smaller; I was still round and soft in his painting, but instead of feeling insecure the portrait made me feel beautiful. The delicate, sweeping brush strokes that made up my body exuded warmth and tenderness. I wasn't entirely sure if it was my love for him that he'd seen and captured in the paint, or his own affection for me, but it was there on the canvas for all to see.

He tilted his head; “... I don't understand? That is what you look like.”

“Yeah, but … Damian, in a culture that teaches women that being big is bad, making a fat girl feel beautiful in her fatness is like the artistic equivalent of finding Bigfoot - there are people who say they have, but who actually believes them?” I smiled softly, looking into his confused eyes; “you’ve made me feel beautiful, Damian. … Thank you.”

Jason hugged me tighter, kissing my shoulder; “... good job, demon brat~”

Damian flushed a bit, obviously pleased, and for a moment it looked like he was going to say something, but before he could, a tall woman came up behind him. She smiled warmly, looking at me; “ah, you must be the panther tamer!”

Damian's entire demeanor changed in an instant, closing in on himself. I frowned, looking up at her; “excuse me? … Who are you?”

The woman ruffled Damian's hair, either not noticing or not caring about his grimace or minuscule flinch as she made contact; “I’m Mrs. Webster, Damian's math teacher! It's a miracle; ever since you've come into his life, our little wild cat here has finally retracted his claws! Finally dropping some of those nasty habits of his. I don't know what you're doing with him, but keep up the good work!”

“... So you did just say what I thought you said. … Ok, bet.” I pushed Jason's arms off me and stepped forward until she stumbled back, making sure I ended up between her and Damian. “First of all; don't ever touch him again. Anyone with two brain cells can tell he doesn't like it.”

She stuttered, stepping back more; “ah! It was just a hair ruffle-”

“Don't. Ever. Touch him. Secondly, he is a person, he's not a wild animal that needs to be tamed. What on earth makes you think that's an appropriate thing to say about one of your students?”

“Hey now! I just meant that his behavior has gotten better, it's a compliment!”

I continued to walk toward her, slowly backing her into a corner. “Shut. The fuck. Up. You were not complimenting him; you were othering him. He is a child in a foreign country with foreign, often contradictory culture; since coming here he has had to relearn everything about how life works and what's expected of him, and he has had to do it using English, one of the most obnoxious languages to learn, and probably the fourth or even fifth one he knows. He is expected to gracefully fold himself into an American household, go to an American school, and follow American customs; nothing in his life would have prepared him for any of that, but he has done it all, and he's done it while living under intense media scrutiny because of his family name. And on top of all that, he's also making all these life changes during one of the hardest parts of a person's development. He works hard every single day to navigate this life, often doing things he hates because they're expected of him, all for your comfort. Is it so much to ask that his teachers treat him with some basic fucking respect?”

She frowned, trying to interrupt me; “I was just-”

“No, I'm talking, that means you shut your mouth. That boy, that brilliant, brave, kind young man was ripped from the life he knew, the good and the bad in it, sent away from his family and friends, to a supposed land of freedom and safety, and when he gets here he has to deal with mediocre minds like yours calling him an animal and praising the people who care about him for their ‘good work' with him? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

I have done no work here; it is not work to meet him where he's at. It is not work to love that boy in whatever ways he's ready to accept. And it is certainly not work to treat him with respect. That is the bare fucking minimum. It is a joy and a pleasure to get to know him; he is a remarkable young man. On his worst day he is a better person than you are on your best. He is compassionate, and patient, and he is a good kid. How fucking dare you talk about him like there's something wrong with him being just the way he is? Who the hell do you think you are? What kind of racist shit-”

“Hey now! I am not racist!”

The side of my fist made contact with the stone wall above her head. I took a deep breath, growling softly; “tell yourself whatever you need to. But you are going to keep a few things in mind going forward. Number one; anything you say or do to Damian will get back to me. Number two;” I smirked, chuckling darkly; “I am not afraid of jail time. So, for everyone's best interest; you will respect his boundaries, and you will think before you open your ignorant mouth. Because if I find out that you or anyone in this school has more inconsiderate, racist ass bullshit to say about my kid, I will be back. And from that day on, you will not know a moment of peace. Have I made myself clear, Mrs. Webster?”

She nodded quickly, eyes wide with fear, and I gave her the most condescending smirk I could before spinning on my heel to return to my boys. I only made it a few steps before Damian ran straight into me, arms wrapped tightly around my waist. His face buried into my chest, and his shoulders were shaking. I was almost pushed back by the force of him throwing himself at me, but I managed to stay standing. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, one hand gently cupping his head, the other stroking his back.

We stood like that for a long while. I wasn't going to pull away first; this was the first time I'd seen Damian initiate physical contact with anyone, and I was not about to give him any reason to believe it had to stop before he was ready. He could have as much as he wanted for as long as he wanted it.

I looked up at Jason over Damian's head; I thought he looked a bit proud, leaning against the wall to watch us. He gestured to me that he was heading out of the room but would be back soon and I nodded, just continuing to hold the shaking boy in my arms. I ran my fingers through his hair gently, hoping it would soothe him, “... I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Damian…”

He shook his head, slowly releasing me. He didn't look up, but I could tell from the wet spot above my heart that he had been crying. “... Can we go home?”

“Yeah, kiddo. Let's get you home.”

“No, I mean … your home?”

“Oh, yeah, you can spend the night at mine. You can spend the whole weekend if you want. … I'll tell your dad for you, if you want?”

He nodded, slowly taking my hand. “... Can we stop at the manor, so I can get a few things and feed my pets?”

“Of course we can.” I smiled softly, gently squeezing his hand, and led him out of the auditorium to find Jason.

Jay met us at the front office. “You're being swapped into Mr. Desantis's math class, Damian.”

Damian nodded, staring at the floor in front of him. “... Thank you.”

Jason nodded, looking at our hands; “... We ready to go?”

“Yeah. We're gonna stop at the manor so Damian can get some stuff, and then we'll all head home.”

Jason nodded, letting us lead the way. He walked behind Damian and over a bit, so the youngest Wayne was flanked by us. Damian watched his feet as we made our way to the car, smiling just a little. “... Are you really going to return if I tell you my teachers are still saying those things about me?”

I stopped next to the car, falling to one knee in front of him, and gently squeezed Damian's hands. His vibrant green eyes slowly met mine, and I had to bite back the rage boiling in my chest; he looked so fragile, like he expected me to say ‘no, you don't deserve it, take care of yourself'. “... Damian, if anyone says or does anything to make you feel inferior, I want you to tell them that you are not required to accept their mistreatment, and walk away. Then you call me. If I don't pick up it'll be because I'm still asleep or at work, you text me and then you call Jay, he will come get me, and we will come for you. Ok?”

“... You'd leave work?”

“... I feel like that's not as impressive as the fact that I'm willing to lose sleep over this, but yes; you are more important than work. I can easily get another job, what I can't and won't do is make you face their shit alone.”

He nodded slowly. “... Father said I'm not supposed to misbehave at school … We have the public eye on us…”

Jay growled softly; “I am certain that he didn't mean for you to accept that kind of bullshit from inferior minds. And if he did, he can take it up with me. You do not have to accept their cruelty. Not ever.”

Damian looked up at Jason slowly, nodding. “... Really?”

“Really.”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

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[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Naughty or nice? | Ethan Landry x Reader

Advent calendar day five: Friendsmas + gift giving

Summary: The whole group gathers at Sam and Tara's for Friendsmas. Left to yourself in the living room, you and Ethan

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The night before everyone went home for the holidays, you all gathered at Sam and Tara’s apartment for a Friendsmas dinner. The place was lightly decorated in the spirits with only a small Christmas tree and twinkling lights you and Tara hung up a few weeks ago. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. 

‘’These gingerbread cookies are hilarious,’’ Sam complimented when she saw everyone’s caricature portraits in the box. 

Some had been more of a challenge to make than others, but you managed to make them all somewhat ressemblant to each of your friends. You even made Tara’s a tiny bit smaller than the others. 

‘’You even made Chad’s big head accurate,’’ Mindy pointed out, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she bit the arm of her cookie. 

Chad scowled at her as he attempted to take a bite, only to have the head break off and tumble to the floor, making Mindy burst into laughter.

‘’Even the cookie-you can’t keep it on its shoulder!’’ 

In true sibling behavior, Chad flipped his sister off. 

Having dealt with them since they were kids, Sam chose to leave them to their bickering and returned to her cooking. The water was boiling anyway. 

She searched the counter for the box of pastas, only to realize that she forgot to stop at the store after her appointment with her therapist this morning. ‘’Ugh, I forgot to get macaroni for the mac’n’cheese… Can someone go to the bodega down the street, they should have some pastas? Any will do.’’ 

Tara, eager to escape vegetable-cutting duty, volunteered. ‘’I can go!’’  

‘’I’ll go with you!’’ Chad said, going after her. ‘’The streets are icy, I wouldn’t want you to fall and get hurt or something.’’

You and Mindy shared a look once he was out of sight, knowing that it was cheap just an excuse to be alone with Tara. Hopefully he’ll stop chickening and finally make a move on her. 

Leaving Sam with Mindy to finish dinner, you joined Ethan who was sitting alone in the living room. He was watching something on his phone, his attention absorbed by the tiny screen, and didn’t hear you coming. 

‘’What are you watching?’’ you asked over his shoulder, a playful smile on your face.

He jumped, his heart hammering in his chest. ‘’Shit, you scared me.’’ 

You giggled as you walked around the couch and sat beside him. ‘’What are you watching,’’ you repeated.

Ethan shrugged, turning off his phone. ‘’Nothing. Just dumb things on youtube.’’

You hummed, taking a candy cane from the bowl on the table and trapped it between your red-coated lips. The sweet peppermint aroma filled the air as you leaned slightly closer to Ethan. ‘’So…have you been naughty or nice this year?’’  

Ethan choked on air. His eyes flicked away from your mouth, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. ‘’W-what?’’ he stammered, the unexpected question taking him by surprise.

You chuckled, removing the candy cane from your lips. ‘’Just curious, you know? Santa's making his list and checking it twice.’’ 

Still flustered, the boy managed a nervous laugh. ‘’I guess I’ve been mostly nice? We volunteered together at the cat shelter last month and I helped you for your art project, does that gives me brownie points?’’ 

‘’You’re cute.’’ You leaned in and ghosted your hand up Ethan’s arm, wishing there wasn’t a sweater covering his bicep. ‘’Since you’ve been so nice, should I give you your Christmas present now?’’ 

An immediate panic struck his face. ‘’Christmas present?! I didn’t know— I’ve got nothing to give you…’’ 

You shushed him with a finger over his lips and, with your other hand, you pulled aside the left side of your wrapped sweater, flashing him your matching red lace bra. The article was very sheer and left nothing to the imagination, which made Ethan’s eyes go wide.

‘’Holy shit.’’

Just then, the door creaked open as Tara and Chad returned, snow covering their shoulders and heads. Snapping out of your bubble, you quickly covered up and loudly greeted the two. Tara gave you a strange look, her cheeks red from the cold, then hopped over to the couch to tackle you with her cold self.

—

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[jfkjrarchive]

The rest of the studio portraits Of John by Brownie Harris

June 1988

[yallthemwitches]

The Best Fun

Super silly, short fic for @jilytoberfest Day 6: Food disasters

Because we all know Sirius would be the one to experiment with muggle drugs~ AO3 link here!

“Prongs—don’t be angry.”

Peter stood with his back against the Fat Lady who screamed at him to be unhanded. His arms were outstretched but his face was riddled with absolute fear. 

“Can’t say I love hearing that from you, Wormy.”

If Peter had been sent to ward him off, that meant that the other two marauders must be shit deep in whatever laid beyond the portrait hole. Usually, the prospect of something to spice up his evening would perk his spirits, but tonight was a rare exception. 

He had been forced to do patrols with Chloe Sparrow due to the fact that she had been favoring her fellow Slytherins during her rounds. Although it had been his idea, it didn’t help that it took away precious time patrolling with Lily. Then, as he had come to find out, it also meant the night would be filled with a strange mixture of semi racist remarks and what James could only refer to as a grotesque version of flirting, ending in Chloe being sent back to her dorms before she could smack his arse another time. 

So in short, James’ bullshit threshold was reaching max capacity. 

“So—do you just want to tell me or do I need to pretend to struggle past you…”

Peter started to look visibly sweaty and backed off of the Fat Lady who, now free from her smothering, chirped insults under her breath. 

“Uhm. So before I say anything, you should know Lily wanted to, so—”

“Peter.” 

James was losing patience fast. He had expected the lads to have done something, sure, but Lily was a development he wasn’t ready for. From his tone alone, it all came tumbling out of Peter like a single word.

”Pads made some stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff?”

Peter’s eyes shifted. “Muggle stuff—said something about how that band,The Beagles or whatever, used it to—”

James walked up to his mate who jumped out of the way before he could even attempt to push through. 

Trudging through the portrait hole, Peter kept fast on his feet, babbling excuses like a mosquito hovering to feed.

“Again! She wanted to! Even helped a bit! Moony didn’t stop them!”

A voice drawled out from the center of the common room. “Thanks for ratting me out Wormy.” 

Remus laid reclined on the length of the couch, book in one hand while a cigarette hung from his lips. 

James took stock of the room. The only thing that looked remotely out of place was a tray of what looked like a dessert which had been ravenously attacked. A knife balanced on the baking tray. 

“So where are they?” 

Without any further elaboration Lupin tilted his head towards the fireplace and James took the two steps needed to get enough clearance to see over onto the ground. Lily was curled up in a ball, eyes closed and head resting on the stomach of a giant black dog, both completely asleep.

“Explain.” He used his head boy voice, but Remus only laughed. 

“Sirius thought it would be a scream to make pot brownies—should have seen them about an hour ago—never seen two people hug and dance around so much in my life.”

Peter, who was still standing at the entrance of the portrait hole, pipped up in a quivering voice. “It was quite nice actually—Lily was so affectionate and—”

“And you didn’t call me? Didn’t think that I wanted to come try muggle drug food too?”

James looked down at his sleeping girlfriend who buried her nose into Sirius’ stomach, hands curling around the fur, blissfully unaware that the animal she was laying on could be anything other than a dog. 

“You all knew I’ve always wanted to do this, Moony! Honestly, I’m hurt!”

“Sorry mate, it just happened.”

James crouched down next to Lily’s sleeping form, brushing some of her hair from her face. At his touch, her eyes blinked open, a brilliant glassy green, slightly bloodshot, looked up at him.

“Oh Baby! You’re back!” She lifted up and threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling her nose into his collar. 

“Oh I just love you! Wow, you smell so good!” 

Every word from her mouth sounded breathy and light, like the world was one big cloud with her on it. From behind him, Peter muttered: “See? I quite like her stoned” and Lupin just snorted in response.

“Have you met this dog? I love this dog.” She turned to wrap her arms back around a still sleeping Sirius, but James caught her, pulling her back into him. 

“I have met the dog—that's ok, we can leave him alone now.” James cradled her to his chest and she melted into him, completely forgetting Sirius despite her comment seconds ago.

“I can see you had some fun tonight.” 

She didn’t respond, rather looking up into his eyes before bursting into a laugh, grabbing both sides of his face and smashing their foreheads together. 

“Brilliant fun. The best fun. But not as fun as you. I missed you.”

It was hard to feel upset about that. James scooped under her legs and carried her like a child over to the staircase which led up to the dorms. Laughter tumbled out of her mouth before becoming preoccupied with kissing his neck in quick, frantic pecks. 

“I’m going to get her to bed before she decides she loves someone else—” Lily just squealed, wrapping her hands tighter around his neck in an attempt to get him to kiss her.

“If Sirius wakes up, tell him I’ll give him a running head start in the morning before I beat the shit out of him–.”

Remus didn’t look up from his book, eyebrows raised.

“Awfully kind of you Prongs.”

James started to climb the steps, Lily alternating between laughter and proclamations of love.

“Well–It’s the least I could do to repay him.”

[awful-little-goose]

howdy!! I’m here to bring you fanart! mostly just silly sketches I did at 5am :3

Esis ate a forever Menticid Mushroom brownie and now she’s high forever 💔

Bonus doodle of a portrait of me (my fursona) while drawing this:

Also sorry if this was long!!! Hope you enjoy!

YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT KIND OF UGLY NOISE CAME OUT OF ME AT THE FOREVER WEED BROWNIE COMIC WHAT THE HELL

ISIS AS A REALISTIC RAIN FOREST FROG (also you’re so good how did you know I based Esis’ design on specifically that family of frog whAT)

you are TOO funny, you must be contained at ONCE or else I’ll EXPLODE

Also your fursona is SOO CUTE, I love fursonas that are like- furry feral beasts, so GOOD HM!! and thank you thank you thank you for the art AAAAA

Here’s a doodle of your fursona about to beat mine up with a giant hammer ✨

[arjudy224]

Tea Time with Alfred

Context: Alfred has always been a close family friend of your Grandma. After her death both of you haven't been dealing with the grief very well, so you decide to start hanging out more to ease the pain. (Y/G/N: your grandma’s name)

Knocking on the door to Wayne Manor, I fumble with the basket of muffins in my left hand. A very confused Jason opens the door.

"Look Y/N..." He begins awkwardly shifting his balance. Guilt spreads across his sculpted features.

"With love, I'm not here for you." I interrupt putting my hand up to silence him, "Whatever you have to say, save it for another time."

Brushing past him, I wander down the hallway past a dozen or so portraits of the Wayne family. With the high ceilings and shelves filled with books older than my great Grandma, I narrowly get lost in the grandeur. One of the glass shelves catches my attention. A much younger looking Alfred beams up at me while a soaked brunette angrily swats at his shoulder with a shoe. My heart contracts when I recognize the woman. Years before she got sick, Y/G/N was radiant. Although the photo is in black and white, I know for certain she is wearing her faithful orange sweater that was in rags by the time I came around. The photo reads: Alfred's revenge London 1965. My eyes well up with tears at the thought of her being so healthy. The image of how frail she looked in that hospice bed will forever be burned in my heart.

The next photo over shows Alfred, Grandma, and I at my first visit to Gotham. Freshly nine, Gotham was such an adventure. Driving into the city was... nothing short of magical. There may have been crime in every corner, but her stories brought much needed light into the city. My 9 year old self hadn't yet grown into herself. With cracked glasses I had broken moments prior and aggressively neon braces, my fashion had a long way to go. I was probably too big to go on Alfred's shoulders at that point, but he picked me up anyway for the walk around the city. The crowded boardwalk behind us sold the best deep fried oreos in Gotham city. A teenager at the time, Dick had convinced me that the secret ingredient was cocaine... As an adult looking at Gotham city, that joke may not be too far off.

The infamous smell of Alfred's baking grounds me to the present. Dickie isn't stealing my gameboy anymore. He's happily living in Bludhaven revamping their police force. Shit, I really need to call him back. How do you tell someone that if you talk about it there is no guarantee that the crying will ever stop?

It doesn't matter what he’s been saying. It's better to not burden him with this. I take a deep breath to avoid a breakdown. Cookies. Tea time. Glancing at my watch, I realize I'm five minutes late. Classic y/n.

Alfred's back is to me when I finally stumble into the kitchen. A mischievous grin emerges on my face as I creep closer making a conscious effort to silence my footsteps. Jason used to say that watching the two of us sneak up on each other was like watching a cheetah stalking its prey. Of course, Alfred always made it look so easy though. Halfway there....

Stirring a bowl of brownie batter by hand, he calls out to me.

"You've got to do a lot better than that if you want to sneak up on me."

I stifle a laugh throwing my hands up in surrender.

"Sorry Alfie.... Old habits die hard. You would not believe what happened to me today..."

Conversing with the older man fills a void, I have been missing. Telling him about life made everything less scary. If I can spin these horrifying events into a joke during tea time.. well I guess I can survive it.

Alfred isn't one to diverge intense grief, yet I will never forget how heartbroken he was when he explained how painful it was to talk to me. Although our features may be completely different, it was the mannerisms that hurt the most to see: the way I held my hands when I was nervous, the anxious laughter in stressful situations, the silly regency romance novels that sat on my bedside table, the intense hatred of the barren winter... My entire being has been shrouded by her love. For better or worse.

The first couple months, I could almost pretend she wasn't gone. Working two jobs while attending school doesn't give me much time to reflect. However, the holidays left an unspoken hollow void. The empty seat at dinner. The contact I would instinctively dial. The horrible sinking in my chest when I remembered the phone would ring forever.

At the beginning, I think we both pretended we were talking to her. Now as I cackle over his photo collection of Tim falling asleep in public places, I realize how much I love the man who was so important to her. This pain may always stay with me, but what is grief if not love persevering?

[prettydeaddes]

I know I havent shown these yet, but I'm starting to amass a collection, not pictured is my dslr which I need to charge up

I recently went out and took some pictures on the little portrait brownie box camera (made 1929-1935)

[ravenclaws-stuff]

Oliver wood with prompt 19. Fight

oliver wood has been revolving his life around quidditch,and forgets his gf, she confronts him and he fights back even though she’s in the right

idk but i hope you’ll make it work! 🤗💗

Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you like it. So something funny, I actually had a story like this in the works.

Oliver Wood x Gryffindor reader

Word Count: 745

Tags: Gryffindor reader, hurt/comfort, quidditch, Oliver Wood in the kitchen

I watch the door, eyes glued to the portrait, waiting for one wizard to walk through. The wizard who misses yet another date. The portrait swings open revealing the boisterous Gryffindor quidditch team. Potter. Bell. Weasley and Weasley. And finally Oliver Wood. The whole team shares a laugh as they walk into the sitting area. “Uh oh. Looks like you’re in trouble, boss.” Katie Bell teases,flashing a quick smile before heading up to our dorm. Realizing the seriousness on my face, the rest of the team walks away, leaving Oliver standing alone.

“Lass?” I look away, watching the embers flicker as the fire dies.”Lass? Did I do something wrong?” I scoff. “Did you do something wrong?” I stand up, pacing across the rug. “You forgot again!” His brow pinches. “Forgot? What did I forget lass?” I stop,glaring at Oliver.”Our date.” Oliver's face pales. “That was today?” I nod, wiping the tears off my cheek “Yes. That was today.”I snapped.

Oliver approaches, his hands in front of him as if I was a frightened kitten. “Lass, I am so sorry. The puffs had to cancel their practice. You know how much the team needs practice.” I take a step back, shaking my head. “Don’t. Don’t say that.” Oliver frowns, looking at the space between us. “Say what?” I throw my hands into the air, a dry laugh falling from my lips. “It’s always quidditch. I always lose to that bloody game.” I pace again, running my hands through my hair. “This is the fifth date you have forgotten in the past three months. All because of that bloody sport.” Oliver cages me in his arms, forcing me to breathe.

“Lass breathe.” Oliver says calmly, taking deep breaths for me to match. He pushes the hair out of my face, cupping my cheek. “I am so sorry. I promise I never meant to forget.” I nod, looking over his shoulder. “I know. I know you didn’t. But that doesn’t make the hurt go away. I can’t…” Oliver's hands fall from my face to my shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore.” “W-what?”

I take a step back, creating space between us. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being second place to quidditch. Ollie, I love you so freaking much. But I can’t keep doing this.” Tears stream down my face as I look at him. Actually look at him. Tears pool in his hazel eyes. Hair a mess from practice. Face as white as Professor Binns. I look away quickly, unable to look at like this. “I won’t make you choose. That's not fair to you.” I walk across the common room,smiling weakly. “Goodnight Ollie.” I whisper, placing a kiss to his cheek.

The image of Oliver standing frozen in the middle of the common room haunts me as I walk up the stairs to the dorm. The door creaks open, alerting my roommates of my presence. “Oh doll.”Katie says,noticing the tears. “What happened?” Angelina asks, pulling me onto her bed. “I think Oliver and I broke up.”

_______________________________________

Oliver Wood is a stubborn man. A persistent stubborn man. A month passed by quickly and Oliver stays by my side each day. Never adding any extra quidditch practices to the schedule. Tonight, he joined me in the kitchen for late night brownies.

“Ollie you really don’t have to be here.I know the field is free tonight. I know how much you would rather be out in the air rather than stuck in a stuffy ole kitchen.” Oliver chuckles, cracking an egg on the side of the bowl. “That's where you are wrong, love. I would prefer being in this ‘stuffy ole kitchen' as you say because that's where you are. I would choose you every single time.” I couldn’t hide the smile on my face even if I tried.

“You’re not just saying that?” He shakes his head, dropping the whisk into the bowl. Oliver pulls me into his arms, placing a kiss on top of my head. “I promise I am not just saying it. I mean every word. And I promise I will spend every second of the rest of our lives making it up to you for making you second guess it.” I nod, letting his words sink in. I feared he would get bored and go back to his old habits, but it seems he has changed. “I love you lass.” I smile, leaning up on my toes. “I love you too, Ollie.”

[mspaintpetfinder]

Hi!

My name is Miles, my pronouns are He/Him, and I like drawing creatures in MS Paint :]

I made this blog so that people may find pets to adopt in a fun way! I draw them, you see them. The more attention the higher chance for these fellas to get adopted into a good home!

I, myself, got my first two kittens from looking around on petfinder, who you may spot often on this blog ^v^ Their names are Sunny and Moon (Originally Caramel and Brownie) and I love them to bits

I also take commissions! If you want a character drawn, or just a lovely pet portrait, you can message me on Discord @/SunsetCorvid and pay me on Venmo under the same user!

And, that's about all! I hope you enjoy this blog and have a wonderful day 💜

Commission Info Main Blog Twitter YouTube (mainly use it for streaming games or, on rare occasions, art!) Art Fight (I'll be active in art fight this year!! Good luck fellow Stardust members!)

[marcherren]

Box camera photography (No. 2 Portrait Brownie)

[the-spirit-of-adventure]

My older Flapjack with my friend’s OC Brownie! They’re getting their adventure portraits painted hehe

Brownie belongs to @flappyboii~

[cxsmicals]

The Slashers with a S/O who is in to film photography

(Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Brahms, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Ghostface)

~ I’m indulging myself since I love film photography and it’s my favorite hobby! How would the boys react if you were a photographer AND what is their preferred camera?? Also I finally watched Black Christmas so Billy gets to come out and play for this one, yay!

Michael Myers: Michael doesn’t really care one way or the other about photography of any kind. He will be interested to watch you find things deemed ordinary and try to photograph them. If you show him some post-mortem photographers he might show a little interest. When all is said and done a point and shoot is his go to. Simple, easy to control, the flash built in gives it a sense of eeriness. He prefers black and white film as to give mystery to his photos.

Jason Voorhees: He’s enamored by your documentation of the forest. He takes a keen interest in your photography right away and asks to at least hold your cameras, and is careful to not break the vintage ones. if you convince him, a simple instant camera is his go to. He enjoys having the instant pictures of you in his belt compartments. If you get him out of his comfort zone he would like a brownie camera since it reminds him of his mother. He prefers color film as to see all of the details

Bubba Sawyer: He loves your photography. He supports it wholeheartedly like the sweet boy he is. If you’re a portrait photographer you might be able to get him to pose on a good day, but it’s unlikely. He loves polaroid cameras. He wants to scrapbook and keep all your memories together. Color film, he wants to preserve every single aspect of the memories.

Brahms: He doesn’t mind the photography that much. If you manage to catch him on a good day where he’s eager to learn he’ll pick it up quickly and want to learn all he can. Brahms is a classy bitch. He wants to be elegant and have the best, so a high class Hasselblad is his make of choice. Boujee and badass. I feel like he’d like to shoot in verichrome because it’s incredibly hard to find film and even harder to find someone who knows how to develop. He will absolutely fund your habit and get you a dark room to set up.

Vincent Sinclair: Any artistic hobby is great by his accounts. He’s happy that you have this hobby as it’s something you and him can talk about. He’ll want to keep all the photos you make and might enlist your help to make advertising for his own wax museum. He’ll want to show genuine interest so a 35mm or a standard 120 is his go to. He wants you to know he cares. He prefers black and white because he sees it as more “artistic” since you need to take more liberties for it. Much like Brahms, he might be willing to help you set up your own dark room to get the photographs properly developed on your own.

Billy Lenz: Oh Billy Billy Billy. Boy is ecstatic to turn your hobby in to a depravity. He is the most gung-ho about the photography since he wants to see you from all angles. If you let this goblin near your collection some cameras will just go missing. Typically it’s your polaroid but occasionally your 35mm might go missing as well. He wants to see you but he also wants to see the stars so he’ll try his best to photograph the night sky. If you want to spring the money for a telefoto lens or just give him a telescope he will be appreciative. If you two are intimately inclined then you WILL hear the shutter go off at random points in your sessions. If it’s not from your polaroid he will urge you to get the photos developed as quick as you can.

Ghostface: He’s got things to see and people to murder, so he’s not always around to indulge your habits. However, if he were to pick a camera, since he’s always running around, he prefers a simple point and shoot disposable that you can get at Walmart. Black and white, bland.

(Thanks for reading y’all. I am super drunk while writing this so if some if these are OOC or there’s spelling issues i’m blaming the gin for that. I also enlisted my boyfriend’s help for this since he knows these characters better than I do. Sorry for those whole like Ghostface i’m just not good at writing for him I’m sorry..)

[jfkjrarchive]

Studio portraits of John by Brownie Harris

June 1988

[aimeedaisies]

✨ 15 days of Princess Anne ✨

August is Princess Anne’s birth month and her 73rd birthday is on the 15th so until then we will look at her fascinating life, one photo for every year!

The fifties

1950 18 month old Prince Charles kissing his newborn baby sister Anne’s cheek, taken by Cecil Beaton, September 1950.

1951 One year old Princess Anne with her mother, Princess Elizabeth, Aunt Princess Margaret, Grandfather King George VI and Grandmother Queen Elizabeth. Taken at Balmoral Castle, August 1951.

1952 Prince Charles and Princess Anne sat in daffodils in the gardens of Balmoral Castle, 28th September 1952.

1953 Princess Anne and her big brother Prince Charles playing peek-a-boo during the portrait session at their mother, Queen Elizabeth IIs coronation, in the throne room of Buckingham Palace, 2nd June 1953.

1954 Princess Anne taken through a window of the Little Welsh House at Royal Lodge, Windsor, 18th August 1954.

1955 Princess Anne waving to the crowds gathered outside Crathie Church, Balmoral on the eve of her 5th birthday, 14 August 1955.

1956 Princess Anne with her paternal grandmother Princess Alice (Princess Andrew of Greece), aboard the Royal Yacht Britannia, Southampton, 9th August 1956.

1957 Princess Anne with her great-aunt Mary, Princess Royal, watching the Trooping of the Colour from the balcony of Buckingham Palace on 13th June 1957.

1958 Prince Charles and Princess Anne making friends with David Attenborough's 3 year old cockatoo, Cocky at the BBC television studios at Lime Grove, 29th April 1958.

1959 Princess Anne, Brown Owl, Tawny Owl and the rest of the 1st Buckingham Palace brownie pack sitting in a circle with a toadstool and brown owl in the middle in the gardens of Buckingham Palace, 1st December 1959.