WHAT IS GOING ON
Monterey Bay Aquarium
tumblr dot com
d e v o n

#extradirty

izzy's playlists!

if i look back, i am lost

Kiana Khansmith

tannertan36
No title available
Peter Solarz
Cosimo Galluzzi
Keni
đȘŒ
ojovivo

No title available

Origami Around
will byers stan first human second
art blog(derogatory)
Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă

Janaina Medeiros
seen from Romania
seen from United States
seen from Cambodia

seen from Brazil

seen from Cambodia
seen from Cambodia

seen from Cambodia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
@champagneleftie
WHAT IS GOING ON
has anyone felt like when gunnhild was deciding between two poems, it was almost like she was choosing between being her true-self or the one she thinks luna would like better? she knew that luna will like that poem better, maybe. and if luna didnt show up, she was gonna read the personal one. i feel like gunnhild is hiding a part of herself, the part she showed to sara, because she thinks luna wouldnt like her.. i dunno if i make sense, but when she chose the âcant you seeâ one, it felt like it was an invisible important decision on gunnhildâs life.. it felt like she chose who sheâll be from now on
Strange Planet: b u s i n e s s
As I let you in
Lord Isak Valtersen becomes a prince-consort.
Or the one where Even is a prince and they enter into an arranged marriage in ye olden days.
Chapter 1/13
Happy 2-year fic anniversary to me! Hereâs my gift to you in order to celebrate that itâs been two years since I posted my first Skam-fic. Thank you so much to all of you for making it so much fun to write in this fandom. <3
The first chapter is up now on AO3. The next chapters will be posted every Monday evening (as Wednesday is a crap day for me to post, hence the early hour xD).
Enjoy! :D
(Sources for the pics: x and x)
body parts drabble
Inspired by the awesome drabble chain from yesterday, I couldnât resist trying for another one. Hereâs 100 words on the topic neck. Rules: reblog and add another 100 words about another body part of your choice! Perhaps itâs the notion of closeness that does it. How soft the skin is on Isakâs neck, how thin; his pulse visible right there, beating under Evenâs palm; the already thin line between them even less existent in those moments. How Isakâs so profoundly alive in the way his Adamâs apple moves when he swallows. Always warm, welcoming; the dip between his muscles the perfect place for Evenâs nose, his lips; the smell of Isak at its strongest there. The laugh, no, the giggle Isak lets out when Even stretches out his tongue â Something thatâs theirs, and theirs alone.
Hell yeah Iâm playing!
This is not exciting. This is not sexy. This is for after, or for inbetween, for the quiet. Itâs not for the thrusts or the wide open mouths or for the fingers slipping inside. Itâs for the not-yet sweaty skin or for the drying sweat. This is not large or painted in vivid colours, it doesnât assault any senses. Itâs tiny and pastel and it smells faintly of warmth. Itâs not for crowding Isak up against the wall, firm hand between his legs. Itâs for leaning into him. Itâs not for moans, itâs for smiles. Isakâs nose tip, touching his.
Itâs been a while since I wrote anything like this, but here are my 100 words.
He had no idea that this would become his thing. Neck, abs, ass, all of those would have been on the list if he was ever asked. Which he wasnât (like who would ask?). But this, the impact fingers can have? He had no idea. Light strokes across his abs, firmer touches to his arms, the way they caress his neck. And when they push their way in, opening up, hitting that spot, making him lose everything, but still holding him together. Long, strong, capable fingers, knowing how to work miracles. He had no idea it could be like this.
This seems fun. Iâm gonna pick wrist.
Evenâs always liked the points on the body where strength meets vulnerability. The skin stretched over Isakâs wrists is paper thin and pale, especially now in winter, and Even gently strokes his thumb over the blue lines of the veins there. Someone once told him their pattern is as unique as a personâs fingerprints, but Even wouldnât be able to tell; all of Isak is precious and unique to him. Isakâs strength is written all over him, but with Evenâs fingers circling his wrist and the soft look on his face as he lets Even take it, heâs delicate too.
Iâll just go ahead and add to this one as well! And I chose mouth (or lips).
Itâs always been a thing. The slightest movement has Even transfixed, hypnotized. Isak has a certain way of moving his mouth when speaking but also at other times. Like when heâs concentrating and it shifts between hanging open and being tightly closed, lips only a thin line. Or when theyâre bantering and his smile moves from one corner to the other as he speaks. Or like now. His lips are stretched wide around Evenâs dick and Even canât look away. Every time Isak pulls back, his lip twitches a little, like he canât get enough of him, and Evenâs addicted.
Hell yes, Iâm in! 100 words, body part!
The thing is, he might have developed a thing for Isakâs thighs.
Scratch that.
He most definitely has.
Itâs just that theyâre so strong, straining against the fabric of his jeans, black denim hugging them, and theyâre bulging when he straddles Even and moves up and down with intent, the hairs coarse against Evenâs hands. And still - the skin on the inside is the softest there is, pale, almost translucent, and when Even runs the tip of his nose along them Isak shudders and when he gently nibs them, Isakâs breath hitches and when heâs inside, they tremble around him.
Me too! Now that I am allowed to join! đđ I chose arms, and hereâs my 100 words:
Thereâs nothing like this. Lying here in Isakâs strong arms, keeping him together. They fit around him perfectly, always make him feel so safe and loved. There are so many things he loves about Isak, but his arms⊠noone has ever held him like this, has ever made him feel so cherished. Sometimes itâs all Even needs, when the day has been too much, thereâs always comfort to be found in Isakâs arms. Even settles in, revels in how that makes Isak pull him closer. Heâs at peace here, cocooned.
With Isak he belongs. And he doesnât need anything else.
Oh hey! Hope you donât mind me popping up with this weird ass addition. THE TOE:
Isak never imagined becoming intimate with this part of Even, regardless of every other familiarity: he awakens with his face smushed in Evenâs armpit, knows the exact curve of his Adamâs apple. But lately, it seems, Evenâs been so on laundry that heâs resorted to stealing Isakâs socks, his freakishly long toe poking from the holes. Isak spies the Toe from the corner of his eye when theyâre dancing in the kitchen, at breakfast under their tiny table. On the sofa, it winks at Isak; he smiles at its daring escapes. Like a secret, he lets Even keep the socks.
Can I play more? Yes?
Why do guys even have them? He contemplates this because he happens to have a great view to Evenâs right now, his head on Evenâs shoulder. Yeah, he knows that nipples develop early in the pregnancy and that boy babies and girl babies are exactly the same the first couple of months, but still. Why do they develop so early? They serve no purpose on a guy.
Except this.
He stretches his neck and drags his tongue over Evenâs right nipple, feels it pebble against his lower lip. Hears Even draw in his breath a little sharply. Licks it again.
I want to play! I pick hipbone:
Even's hipbone cuts into his thigh, sharp and unyielding. Bruising, if Isak bruised easily. Heavy, how can he be so skinny and so heavy, all at once? Heavy chest on Isak's chest, heavy head on his sleeping arm. Heavy sighs, breaths whispering against his neck. Heavy, but not so heavy that Isak can't bear it. Not as heavy as disappearing under covers, sighs against the wall, the distance between them as untraversable as the universe. Not as bruising as being right there next to him and not reaching him. Heavy, but exactly where he belongs, hipbone cutting into Isak's thigh.
I accidentally drabbled again. Yes, once more I crammed break-up into exactly 100 words.
@towonderland72 my darling, this oneâs for you.
Shoes go in a couple of plastic bags, books in a cardboard box. Clothes in three large garbage bags. Toiletries in his backpack along with his Playstation. Heâs not sure which charger is his, but packs one of them.
Nothing else here is his to bring with him.
As heâs about to leave and gets his keys from the bowl on the table, he stops. That bowl was the first thing they bought together, specifically to keep their keys in it. Every home needs a key bowl, Even said then. He agreed.
He puts the bowl in his backpack too.
Hands with ants on them or eyes with no iris
Haha! Depends on the person the hands and eyes are attached to, but I'd prefer if the person with ants on their hands washed them off before touching me.
(Absence of an iris, aniridia, is an actual thing that occurs. It can be hereditary or caused by injury, is often associated with pretty sever visual impairment, and makes the eye appear black. (All this according to Wikipedia.) I'm hesitant to rule out people because of illness, you know?)
Hands or eyes
Depends on the hands, and on the eyes.
nothing of this remains
this is the translation of a one-shot i wrote in november last year. itâs a short one, but itâs fitting because a) itâs femslash february and b) iâm really in love with noora lately. itâs a snapshot of noora and eva on a winterâs night, rated e
enjoy! âĄ
summary/excerpt
She closes her eyes; the hairs on her arms raise when the nerve impulses scurry by. It prickles and tingles ( â burns and vibrates and crackles like a firework of potential not yet reached â ) when Eva pulls her closer, pushes a thigh between her legs.
Noora puts her arms around her shoulders and sighs. Breathes. Sheâs never felt as alive as she does now
[read on ao3]
kjĂŠreste-greier
Shifts
She didn't think to tell Luna that she lived on a mountain, because there are mountains everywhere.
It's not that she doesn't see them â she does. Sees their beauty, can appreciate their magnificence.
But she doesn't think to tell Luna, just as she doesn't think to tell her which spot on the couch is her mother's, or about her dad's system for loading the washing machine. It just is. They just are. An inextricable part of her, woven into her skin.
She wonders what their house smells like, to Luna. What Luna sees, that she is blind to.
To bring Luna here is to see everything through her eyes. Like holding up a mirror to her own existence. Everything is the same, and at the same time not at all.
With Luna here, everything shifts. Just a little. A disturbance in the force. Not in a bad way, or anything â just. A shift. Another body weighing down her mattress, someone else's skin against her skin under the duvet that used to be hers.
She can't picture Luna beating up Lasse, because they don't exist in the same universe.
She's not even sure anyone else exists in this universe. Maybe it's just the two of them. Maybe everyone else has just gone up in smoke â pouf â like trolls in sunlight. Maybe if they went into town tomorrow â on a walk, to the store, to show Luna her old school and her library and⊠that's it, basically, but if they did â maybe all the people would have been switched out, replaced. Maybe she'd no longer recognize the librarian, the cashiers. Maybe all the names on the mail boxes would be different. In a different language.
So she goes outside, like she used to do, like she's always done, and looks to the stars.
They're the same.
Breathes â in, out. The air is crisp, clear, clears out the foggy remnants of thoughts.
The universe is the same. They exist â they â in the universe, no matter how unlikely, how incredible that seems.
Everything is the same.
And when Luna asks her what she's doing, she can't say. What she's always done. Look to the universe, to what's permanent, to one of the few things she can always count on not to change.
But at Luna's laugh, even the stars shift.
Girlfriends messing about in HĂžyanger
Lovleg S02E02 - Labels
Chat with dad February 8
Ukulele (English subtitles) (transcript)
Chat with dad February 9
Labels (English subtitles) (transcript)
Saraâs Instagram February 9
Lunaâs Instagram February 9
Note 20 February 9
Chat with Sara February 10
Alexâ Instagram February 10
Chat with mum February 10
Chat with Luna February 10
Billie (English subtitles) (transcript)
Davidâs Instagram February 11
Peterâs Instagram February 12
Note 21 February 12
Note 22 February 12
Saraâs Instagram February 12
Note 23 February 12
Snap from Luna February 12
Chat with Sara February 12
Ă ndenes makt/Ghost hunting (English subtitles) (transcript)
Lunaâs Instagram February 13
Alexâ Instagram February 13
Torsteinâs Instagram February 14
Lunaâs Instagram February 14
Et meg/Eat me (English subtitles) (transcript)
About lovlegenglish
About lovlegskada
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: SKAM (Norway) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Even Bech NÊsheim/Isak Valtersen Characters: Even Bech NÊsheim, Isak Valtersen Additional Tags: AU, Slice of Life, Fluff and Smut, Skandi Smut, fortsÀttning pÄ julkalendern Series: Part 2 of vinter, vÄr, sommar, höst Summary:
Fem veckor. Det har gÄtt fem veckor. SÄ det Àr inte konstigt att Isak inte har nÄgon lust att prata just nu.
This is a drabble that I wrote for @possessedpika because sheâs so sweet and lovely and sheâs new to this fandom. So as a welcome to her (and because Iâm a slut for this ship ngl), hereâs some Chrisak. Enjoy, babes â€
â
He doesnât know how he keeps getting into this situation.
Itâs the same thing every time.
And itâs not like he goes over with the expectation that the same thing will happen, it just does.
Isak swallows down a moan and clenches his jaw, fisting Chrisâ hoodie, grinding up against his thigh. He canât deny that it feels good â fantastic, even, but he also canât deny that itâs unmistakably very⊠gay.
âJust relax,â Chris murmurs against his skin, his hot breath tickling the tiny hairs behind Isakâs ear. And Isak knows what he means by that, knows that his bodyâs tensing up and that Chris is taking notice.
Itâs happened every time and itâs happening now.
The fact that heâs doing this kind of thing with a guy, and enjoying himself, is just⊠itâs a bit unsettling. But Chris has assured him that thereâs nothing gay about it, that theyâre just having fun.
And heâs not about to call Chris Schistad gay.
So of course Isak has just shrugged nonchalantly and agreed, said that heâs not gay either so what theyâre doing doesnât bother him.
It does. Sometimes.
Isak takes a deep breath, doing his best to put a blanket over the neon sign in capital letters in his brain that says THIS IS GAY.
Any coherent thought is completely diminished once Chrisâ nimble fingers have breached the barrier of Isakâs zipper and worked their way inside his boxers. This time, itâs impossible to keep a moan from slipping out.
Chris is pumping his dick quickly, efficiently, the sole purpose to make him come, not to tease. His lips are on Isakâs neck, on his ear, on his shoulder, on his collarbone, never settles on one place, just keeps wandering. No marks please please please.
And Isakâs trying to get his body to work, he really is, but itâs impossible to move his hands away from Chrisâ arms. He canât return the favor right now, he just canât, not when Chrisâ hand feels so good around him.
âFuck,â Isak moans and his voice sounds so whiny, girly almost, and he hates it, hates how vulnerable it paints him out to be. But Chris seems to like it, Isak can tell by the smirk heâs pressing into his skin.
And for a second, Isak considers that it might be a little weird that he knows how it feels when Chris smirks.
But the thought is forgotten as soon as it appeared because Chris is now biting his earlobe and thatâs-
It makes Isak shudder and squirm a bit.
âYouâre close, arenât you?â Isak only nods, canât give a verbal answer. His feet are moving helplessly against the duvet, not finding proper footing, his back arching off the bed and pressing against it in close intervals.
âFeels good, hmm?â Chris murmurs and Isak nods again. He kind of loves when Chris gets like this, when he starts whispering dirty things in his ear, but heâll never admit that. Itâs a little too⊠gay sounding for Isak to be fully comfortable with it.
Chris tightens his grip on his dick and breathes into Isakâs ear, licks his lips before speaking.
âI bet youâd feel even better if I fucked you,â he whispers. And thatâs it for Isak, thatâs his tipping point.
Isakâs breath catches in his throat, hands clenching Chrisâ arms so hard theyâll surely bruise, abdominal muscles contracting violently and almost making his body jerk up. And he comes so hard itâs almost embarrassing.
Chris leans back with the most satisfied smirk Isakâs ever seen, reaching over to the nightstand for some paper to wipe up the mess. He bites his bottom lip when heâs looking at Isak again, as if heâs assessing the state heâs left him in, as if heâs proud of how disheveled Isak is.
Isak wants to wipe that pleased smirk off his face. He wants to do it with his mouth around his dick, though, and thatâs arguably not particularly hetero.
But thatâs a thought for another day. There are more pressing matters at hand.
Isak flips them over and is surprisingly smooth with it, settling between Chrisâ legs easily, feeling a lopsided smirk taking over his features.
âMy turn,â he says, sounding every bit as cocky as Chris always does and good god, he must have rubbed off on him⊠so to speak.
âBring it on,â Chris replies, mirroring Isakâs smirk. And fuck yes, he will.
Lunaâs insta February 15th