i think tumblr ads automatically opening a tab on your phone if you touch them while scrolling should be considered a form of malware
Misplaced Lens Cap

Kaledo Art
dirt enthusiast
Monterey Bay Aquarium

roma★
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
noise dept.
almost home
tumblr dot com
i don't do bad sauce passes

Product Placement

JVL
Keni

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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Cosimo Galluzzi
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$LAYYYTER

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@adelaidethevisionary
i think tumblr ads automatically opening a tab on your phone if you touch them while scrolling should be considered a form of malware
When you mention piracy to the wrong person and now you have to listen to them talk for 2 hours that we need to support small businesses such as EA and Amazon
experience of watching sfawtde after first seeing the fandom
everyone rejoice, Ao3 is back
well done everybody for being so brave about it
Of fucking course Lestat is living in Montreal. Where Shane lives and play for.
I can’t get out of the Cottage/ New Orleans
thank you ao3 for being an archive and not an algorithm. thank you for letting me like things without consequences, thank you for being free with no ads, thank you for having lawyers to defend our freedom of speech. thank you tag wranglers. thank you to all authors and thank you ao3
am i the only one who genuinely shipped beth and benny because they were honestly such cuties
Souls whose reason to exist is their wife
rafe wants you to move in with him
you’re sitting criss-cross on your pink silk bedspread, still in your tiny nightgown and fuzzy socks. the scent of your vanilla cupcake body spray lingers in the air.
rafe is standing in the doorway of your childhood bedroom, arms crossed, wearing that smug smirk like he already knows you’re gonna give in.
“you can’t live here forever, baby,” he says. “come to tannyhill, alright? let me take care of you.”
you blink up at him, lashes clumped from the half-done mascara, lip gloss glimmering.
“rafe, i’m eighteen.”
“and I’m not waitin’ another year to fall asleep with you in my arms every night.”
you swallow hard, glancing at the baby-pink walls and the framed family photos.
“you know my mom would lose her mind.”
“your mom’s a bored and drunk golf lady who thinks sugar-free jello counts as dinner,” he snaps.
“well, she- she says you’re too… intense.” you say embarrassed
rafe shrugs, stepping into the room.
“maybe... but I’m the only one who actually gives a damn about you, in this house at least”
your silence is telling, you know he’s right. rafe comes closer, kneeling in front of you, pressing his forehead to yours like it’s something sacred.
“bunny,” he whispers, “i already built the closet for you. pink velvet hangers... room just for your shoes… clawfoot tub and a vanity. i’ll get you a puppy if that’s what it takes.”
and you laugh softly, this was very tempting. but he’s dead serious.
“i don’t want you playin’ house here anymore. you’re mine, move in. you already know our plan.”
and when you hesitate again, all doe-eyed and unsure, he cups your chin and says
“you wear my ring, you sleep in my bed… that’s just how this works, baby.”
✮⋆˙ . sensory!reader and her need to be crushed by rafe while they cuddle.
warnings — none, really! soft!rafe x sensory!reader. angst & brief mentions of rafe brushing reader off.
cherie’s note — requested here! thank you anon<3 decided to stick with a more subtle approach for a sensory seeking/autistic reader. i seriously need to write more for soft!rafe, absolutely healing something inside of me writing this awe.
"baby."
the word cuts softly through the quiet, not harsh — just... curious. a thread of confusion wrapped in affection.
you don't look at him right away.
your curled up on the far end of the couch, legs drawn to your chest, blanket tucked high around your chin like armor. the soft hum of the tv flickers across your face, but your gaze is vacant — not really watching, not really here.
rafe shifts his weight where he sits, brow furrowing slightly. his eyes linger on you for a beat too long. he'd spoken once already. maybe twice. but it didn't seem like you'd absorbed any of it, even heard him. like you were lost in the space between here and there.
"...you okay?" he tries, voice low.
you hum. not an answer. more of a deflection, pretending to focus on the television show that reruns for nearly the hundredth time — one of your comfort movies, something from your childhood that you found helped you feel grounded. but it was no use now, not with the events of earlier stinging your mind.
and it clicks for him — not all at once, but in fragments. the way you'd barely spoken since the afternoon. the polite nods. the hollow 'i'm fine' you tossed over your shoulder when he came to sit beside you earlier. the way you subtly leaned away when his fingers brushed your knee.
all of it.
shit.
he glances away, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek in the way he always seems to do.
it hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time — you'd asked for something so specific, so quietly, just 'can you lay on me for a bit?', and he'd snapped before even thinking, too wrapped up in the chaos of his phone blowing up with business deals, and investors bitching about god-knows-what.
"you'll be fine for a bit," he muttered, already halfway across the room.
it wasn't just the dismissal. it was the way he said it. the assumption that you'd be fine — as if it hadn't taken everything in you to ask in the first place, coming from a place of pure vulnerability, and needing. as if you hadn't needed that closeness in a way words couldn't even explain.
you hadn't brought it up since. that's not your style. you just went quiet — a dull, subdued kind of quiet. like the air around you got thinner and you learned how to breathe smaller, take up less space.
now, hours later, he watches your fingers fidget with the frayed edge of the blanket. your nails scrape softly over the threads, over and over again. your lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy, unfocused. you look like you're underwater.
he leans in just a little.
"baby," he says again, softer this time. "talk to me."
you blink.
"i'm tired."
"that's not what i asked."
your shoulders rise, then fall.
"i know," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. "i just don't wanna be a lot right now."
that breaks him a little. it cracks something.
"you're not a lot," he says. immediate. almost too fast. "you never are. don't do that."
you don't respond.
and the silence between you stretches long, tight with everything unspoken — the need you swallowed down, the soft request he brushed off, the ache you'd carried all day like a weight in your chest.
he swallows, guilt rising like bile.
"come here."
he watches the way your body hesitates — then unfolds, slowly, as you let him pull you into his arms. your limbs are sluggish, like you'd half-melted in his lap. like it takes effort to just... let go.
he doesn't say anything as he shifts you into his lap, guiding you down gently until you're on your back, tucked into the corner of the soft couch, and then he covers you with himself, warm and heavy, chest-to-chest, legs tangled with yours.
all his weight, everywhere. just like you'd craved all day.
and god, the sound you make — a tiny, broken exhale against his neck — kills him.
"m'sorry," he mumbles into the crown of your head. "didn't mean to blow you off. you should've told me i was being a dick."
"you weren't" you whisper. "you were just busy, s'all."
"next time you ask, i don't care what's happening — i've got you, okay?"
you nod, slow and careful.
but it's the way you nuzzle into his neck — the way your body softens entirely beneath his, letting out soft, content sighs — that lets him know: you'd forgiven him.
Okay Ali Hazelwood
- Kirsten Saylor for iHorror
captain price // fic recommendations
note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works
holding you
stood up, laid down
puppy love
the traces he left behind
birdsongs, or advice and symphonies for your children
let me lean on you
sunroom
the grocery store
willow tree march
glitter and gold
needle
landscape without honey
the only thing you want to do is...
our remains
songs that sound like sea-foam
see no evil
the five times
fire it up
calluses on his gentle hands
earth and wind
alchemist's burden
bake a wish
breaking and entering
my mistake
mind the drop
unholy
my daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you
Rage baiting your husband (Translation in ALT)
"Mine" 🧛🏾♂️🧛🏼🦇
I cannot stop thinking about how daniel says "there are stories that need to be told" in his masterclass ad... mirroring louis' words to him in "don't be afraid just start the tape." he held onto louis' words his entire life. that was his lifeline. louis also got to matter in a way he always yearned. he got to be kind, encouraging and HUMAN to this kid he met few days ago. he saved him.
the show beginning with these lines is just a representation of its themes. its love care and doing your best at the core.
Not Louis being a drug addict for quite sometime with Armand and describing having sex with Lestat as getting high.
Not Louis being unable to dispose of Lestat's body and not him being able to do the same to man in the park cause he hallucinated him.