( dilan fieraru ) @dilanfieraru - Tumblr Blog

——— 𝒾𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝒹, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

marcusacosta:

Six months was the length of time he had dated Cecilia. In those six months, several facts became clear: the freckles on her right arm were the direct results of being hated by the sun, while she loved traveling, America was least favorite option, and even though her father was a cook, she hated sourcing through groceries like a child hated vegetables. It was for that reason he could not stop staring at the image of her shopping along, under the bright sun of Costa del Sol, California of all places. He must have spent too long starring at her and shuffling through carrots, as she approached him dressed in a smile, her voice an octave too different and her accent missing entirely. “I’m sorry. You look just like my ex,” he said a moment too soon, realizing his mistake in the same breath. He laughed it off, his head sunk down with a quick shake. “Sorry, that’s a horrible greeting,” he said, turning to face her. “Hi,” he said, extending out his arm. This close, he could count the differences. Her hair was a shade too light and her hands were perfectly spotless. “I’m Marcus. You’re beautiful.”

.

“Oof,” Dilan replied, “That’s something no girl wants to hear.” Still, he recovered nicely, and she was convinced then that he was genuine and not her fast ticket to a Dateline special broadcast. Leaning her weight onto one hip, with the silky material of her long skirt flowing to match the curve of those lines, she held her own hand out to fit into his. His was the sort of grip that indicated privilege, and it reminded her of her own ex, smooth and free of callouses, the type that had never worked a hard day in his life. Perhaps his talents lay elsewhere, but pretty things were often just decoration, as she had found out through her broad sweep through life thus far. The compliment made sun-bronzed features grow rosy with a slight flush, she’d never gracefully accept them. “Actually, I’m Dilan.” Her fingers gave his a squeeze and a laugh fell from her lips, “You’re beautiful, too. In fact, I think the pair of us probably snatch the title for the most stunning in the entire farmer’s market and that’s something that we should definitely use to our advantage.”

#chat #chat: marcus #marcus acosta

lucafieraru:

𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐘 kept luca at the clinic almost an hour past closing , his caffeine high gone as the clock ticks towards dinner time . he already dismissed the rest of the staff , opting to lock up himself so that they could all get home at a decent time . between his bag , a reusable coffee mug and a stack of papers it’s a miracle he manages to get the front door closed , all to see his wife standing there having chosen to help whatsoever . luca shakes his head with a laugh before shrugging his shoulders . “ i’ll have to ask my wife first but she is pretty open minded . ” luca closes the distance between them to press a chaste kiss against her lips , a coo offered towards charlie before he walks to the last car left in the parking lot . “ did you finish early at the store today ? ”

.

“Thought we’d catch you as a surprise.” She’d taken an Uber to work, and it had been her plan all along to steal a ride home with Luca. It was the quiet moments that she liked, ones where he hummed idly to the radio, his hand on her thigh, tapping to the beat of the song. When he was closer, she plucked the coffee mug from the top of the pile that he was toting around, “Ask her if she wants in, might be a bit of a wild night.” Humour glinted in her dark eyes, and she followed beside him towards the car. “It’s been slow, and Charlie was getting restless. I think that he might like your company more than mine, but I’m trying not to be too jealous about it.” Dilan tipped back the mug, taking a sip before her nose wrinkled at the taste of coffee grown long cold and bitter. “I might have to just be open four days a week, it feels silly to sit there doing nothing but teach Charlie tricks all day.” Her head tipped, and she laughed, “Wait, hold on. We mastered play dead today.” She put the mug back in his hands, gesturing to the dog to sit, before performing the command. Four white paws flung up in the air and she cooed in delight, passing off a treat that had been tucked away in her pocket. “Maybe we did get a lot done today, after all.”

#chat #chat: luca #luca fieraru #using a dora gif julie dont look

danieladeleon:

starter for: @dilanfieraru location: full moon party

𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐏 𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀 on the beach is a must , daniela originally having anticipated to make better use of it with her date for the evening but since he made himself out to be a failure , it’s serving more as a hideaway for friends . “ why i agreed to a date in the first place is beyond me , i think my mother’s pressure to be married and with babies by the time i’m thirty is finally starting to get to me , ” daniela says with a soft sigh .

.

Dilan grinned, the expression half hidden behind the rim of her glass when she registered Daniela’s words. “As your honorary friend who has been married not only once, but twice,” she enunciated the word, trying to remedy the sloppy way that the syllables ran together and betrayed the fact that she was drinking. “I’d advise you to absolutely not rush it. Find someone you can’t imagine not being married to, the rest falls into place after.” She gestured, “On the other hand, I’m siding with your mother. Your genes are primo, you should be popping at least seven beautiful kids just as a service to the world.” Dilan leaned back on her hands, “Fuck, I’d even babysit.”

#chat #chat: daniela #daniela deleon

izabellagifs

Cagla Demir, 2019

#mirror

yasyaskovsk

#inspire #dilancloset

for: @kitslcane location: the grove

Dilan slid into the seat across from Kit, a little later than the time that they had promised to meet, but with apologies hot on her breath as she murmured something about how good the other looked. California sun made those who pranced under it more radiant, Kit Sloane was an angel with inky hair and bone structure like fractured glass, all sharp angles against a full, pouting mouth. “Look at this little guy,” the other woman says, taking the glass case she had been toting around, setting it onto the empty table place beside her. A curious creature peered up at them as she pointed him out to Kit. “Our latest foster, a red eyed crocodile skink. Isn’t he cute? Looks like a dragon.” She reached for the menu, turning it over. “I just picked him up, I hope you don’t mind coffee for three.”

#chat #chat: kit #kit sloane

for: @rccarter location: hype house, front lawn

This particular batch of kittens seemed determined to stay wild. They scrabbled at the door when they went in and out, and Dilan, despite her best efforts to keep them inside the house and far from the front entrance, always seemed to come home to five little faces, pushing to get a break at freedom. Today, as the key fit into the lock, she heard the chorus of unhappy mews- broken only as the diamond shaped head of one of the smaller cats edged out from the tiny sliver between the outside and in, breaking free into a run. Dilan swore, dropping her purse and ushering the other animals inside, closing the door to spin on her heel and take chase. Calico and small, her heart stopped as she saw the kitten race across the road. His feet touched safety on the lush green of the neighbour’s lawn and she followed behind, pausing only when she saw the door of a truck open and two large hands swoop down to grab the tiny tyrant. “Thank you,” Dilan breathed, leaning forward slightly to catch her breath. Dark eyes lifted when he got out of the car, and Rowan Carter stretched out, god-like and golden, shirtless under the overalls of his uniform. She swallowed, lust clawing at the back of her throat when she recalled how he’d looked sprawled against the sheets of her bed, how he’d looked at her when he’d pressed her into them in turn. Still, she smoothed her expression over with a smile, holding a hand out for the kitten. “Do you think this counts as a citizen’s arrest?”

#chat #chat: rowan #rowan carter #ro hot

for: @marcusacosta location: farmer’s market

He’d been watching her for about fifteen minutes- not something that she’d usually notice, but the gaze was blatant, with confused brows drawn together while he followed her through the market. Still, Dilan went about her tasks, picking up vegetables, a loaf of bread, a few flowers from a raven haired beauty who blushed when their fingers brushed during the exchange. She’d just picked up a cup of orange juice and was sipping it when she wheeled around, realizing he’d gotten much closer. Her own gaze swept appraisingly down his figure, noting high cheekbones and full lips, paired with the snug fit of cotton on a lean torso. A smile drew on her mouth and lashes the colour of an oil spill flicked up as she finally caught his eye. “See something you like?”

#chat #chat: marcus #marcus acosta #honestly dil this cld go great or it wld be a neat lil dateline story i hope it's the former!

for: @lucafieraru location: outside of costa veterinary clinic

She had closed Nomad’s early, shuttering the door and flipping the open sign around in a single, deft motion. Things were slow as tourist season began, the slow trickle of curious visitors into the shop dried up at around three and she’d spent the last half hour of the work day cleaning up before she reached for Charlie’s lead and made the short journey to the veterinary clinic. Luca would be leaving soon, and the little white dog treaded happily beside her, tail whipping against a bare ankle when they both caught sight of him, balancing papers, his coffee cup and other various items while he tried to lock the door. Dilan stood there, unhelpful and grinning, one hand on her hip before Luca finally turned and she canted her head. “You’re cute, can I get your number?”

#chat #chat: luca #luca fieraru

starredsoul

How about this: We forget absolution. We forget the gods. We forget that eventually the blood in our veins will harden and that every heartbeat is a countdown to the last. How about this: We kiss our wrists to taste the pulse. We tear at the soft flesh of our throats to find blood. We remind ourselves that this skin is not a prison, that we could never be contained by something so soft, not when divinity burns in our veins, not when we were born from light. How about this: We stop denying our hunger. We call ourselves holy.

Emily Palermo, Suggestions.

#inspire