blake kathryn
shark vs the universe
$LAYYYTER
One Nice Bug Per Day
Janaina Medeiros
Monterey Bay Aquarium
i don't do bad sauce passes
AnasAbdin
hello vonnie
Product Placement
wallacepolsom
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Keni
Not today Justin
art blog(derogatory)
Peter Solarz
KIROKAZE
Kaledo Art
Cosmic Funnies
Origami Around
seen from Argentina
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seen from Germany
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seen from Serbia
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seen from Switzerland
seen from Mexico
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
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@graeclandtoo
୭ 🧷 . ౨ৎ ⌗ 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐭𝐨𝐨 ; a study in grief, feminine rage, living for the thrill of it, wandering through museums, longing for home oceans away, and orange juice boxes on summer days — manifested in muses 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 ( antigone ), 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒓 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒔, 𝒏𝒐𝒂𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒂, & 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍, as adored by fifi ( they + she, twenty1+ ). access file ?
as far as book covers went, the professor had chosen an aesthetically pleasing blend of solid color ( a dark blue ) to contrast the shattered fresco painting of iphigenia being led to the slaughter, blindfolded as though robbing her of sight would make the kiss of steel to the skin any less biting ─ as the book slid across only to be halted by one of her elbows, resting on the edge of the table, june wondered if a blindfold would make the conversation between sisters easier or if, like iphigenia, the darkness would only serve as a cold comfort. it should not have been so difficult, reaching out to her sister for help after all the books had been checked out, but the idea of needing assistance had always been a point of contention within the heart of someone who had taken great pride in isolatory independence. ( what had been her other options, as a child ? it was either that or running after her older siblings and ignoring the little voice inside her head that whispered of their displeasure at having her tag along, and june had never been good at that. the little voice all but had a platform in her head. ) if there was still felix - priscilla and june, she might have dared a joke about having a favorite sibling but even after so many years, it still felt taboo to mention that there had been another, an elder brother that they both loved in their own way ─ as she attempted a returning smile, june wondered if it was the same for priscilla or if that empty space between them, kept vacant even when they embraced, was something only she could feel. ❝ thank you ! ❞ was quipped instead, fingers greedily smoothing down the slightly upturned edge of the book's cover. ❝ you are a lifesaver, truly ... i almost resorted to begging kaleo for dibs after he was done and we both know i would have an easier time swallowing a pen than doing that. ❞ the tantrum she had thrown in the library after being told that he had checked out the last copy had not been one of her finer moments, but thankfully it had only been witnessed by the librarian who didn't seem likely to gossip. lips parted to share that moment with priscilla, an olive branch extended to laugh at the silliness of it all, but something in the mile - long distance of her gaze was enough to give pause, a concerned furrow forming between her brows even as her sister leaned forward ─ june wished that the compliment could be returned. oh, it was true that all others paled before the beauty of priscilla kane, at least in her eyes, but even with such bias, she could see the exhaustion clinging to alabaster skin and her fingers, wrapped around the warm porcelain of her cup of hot chocolate, twitched with an urge to reach out. ❝ mhm ... when he remembered that i existed. it wasn't too bad ... missed you at breakfast, though ... weird to eat without fighting over the butter knife. how was your break ? i tried calling once or twice but i know you were busy. ❞ busy with life, friends, lovers, anyone who wasn't her it seemed ─ perhaps if she left home instead, priscilla might have been tempted to come back.
the laugh she lets slip past her lips is genuine, easily so; it’s so simple, in june’s company, to remember that in one way or another they were girls together. if she allows herself to indulge even further, she can pretend that this is her reality: that she’s a sister, a good one ( the way she had a chance at being, before felix, before making amends for taking over a life not hers to begin with ), and that moments like these didn’t come by so few and far in between because of her own doubts. “i’d sooner have to heimlich it out of you, you know that.” she responds with an emphatic nod, fingers rapt against her coffee mug. “but for all the gods’ sakes, gus gus, if you’ve got to beg sweet kal for it, trust that it’s never worth it. —— though,” leaning forward, her eyebrows arch with a conspiratorial air. “i could spare a word with him, if you want. not like he couldn’t buy out the whole bookstore if he were real peckered about it.”
and then i wouldn’t have had to see sage again, she almost continues, but bites her tongue. something about it seems too personal, she thinks — and then immediately thereafter comes the guilt for considering that a reason to hide that from her sister, of all people. and suddenly, as she’s done time and again, she’s back in the reality of who she is to june: one foot forever out the door, too afraid of what it means to be looked after.
( god, who is she kidding ? who she is to june will never be who she needs her to be; who she is to june is someone who leaves. )
almost like she knows her too well, priscilla ducks behind her hands, hoping to veil her exhaustion if only the slightest bit — she needn’t june’s pity. she wouldn’t know what to do with it. her hands move again to tidy her hair back, brush stray tendrils behind her ears as she listens to the dreary home life she’s missed. there’s a stab of guilt there that patches itself up in a manner that can only be described as defensive, stiffening under what she’s sure shouldn’t be an accusation but one she takes as such anyway. “i was busy.” she responds; it’s a bit more brusque than she means for it to be, and the placid smile on her face does little to alleviate it. but she lets it drop ( for now ), eyes fluttering over the breakfast spread in front of them. “took that brief fellowship my mentor recommended for me, and switzerland is forever beautiful in the summer.” from the window of her treatment center, she fails to add; maybe there’s something concerning about how undemanding it feels to lie like this to june, yet at the same time the thought of telling her the truth feels much worse.
“... but i am sorry. about dad.” still — genuineness slips through the cracks of her poor disguise; this part she can look june in the eye for, smile more weary, regretful. “i’ll take you with me next time. promise.”
𝒻𝑜𝓇 : @graeclandtoo ( noah ) !
𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖗 : 9:00 pm .
𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 : upperclassmen dorms , room 202 .
𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝘄𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 & 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆, a pacing jaguar in the back of his head with claws digging into the cool dirt underneath, looking — searching for just about anything to chew on. an oral fixation that leaves him opening a pack of gum, taut muscles flexing as he breathes in the mint of eucalyptus. he knows that she's behind that oak door, room number canvassed across in a haunting omen. he's mustering up the courage to knock. to explain. knows there's no use in avoiding it, they'll have to speak again. they're here for the long haul, for a few more years to come. he's never been of the nervous sort, always extroverted, always free to let his opinions fly & put his two cents in places no one's asked. still, with eyes akin to golden hour, the brawn & brine of a woman spurned, doe hues scathed in a permanent glare by the time he had been done with her; a woman who once viewed the world with bright colors, hazy with the hot swell of tears as her world dulled — there'd only been one person that had sent him spiraling. knuckles are rapping against the doorframe, a heavy & persistent rattle of wood until it's being swung open; lips parting to halt her before she can say anything — until, well, an entirely different figure stands tall. eliciting an equal rush of frustration. it's the first time in a while he's been rendered speechless, the instinct of pelting the man with a plethora of profanities, gone. a smile plagues shepherd's face. one of complete & utter disbelief for the situation. it'd been easy enough to see over noah's shoulder, but instead he's shoving him out of the way to see everything that's plastered along the walls, dainty furniture decorated along the expanse of the room. ❝ this has to be a joke, yeah ? ❞ he's scoffing, turning back to look at him. there's a pit at his stomach that creeps open, a wad of coal still tucked deep within the confines of his gut. it's a whiplash of emotions he hadn't expected. fully prepared for a corrosive argument with a sour love, sure. but then he's here. mere feet away from the man that triggers his every nerve ending, subjected to torture of the cruelest kind. ❝ noah. ❞ he breathes out in a low growl. confused. alarmed, though his face hides any worry. had they already shared each other's history ?
it’s not often that he finds himself at home on a weeknight — most of the time the thrills of the street beckon to him, and he’s almost embarrassingly quick to answer — but a splitting headache and promises to fix someone’s ride up tomorrow morning have led him to watching newlywed game reruns on the sofa of the housing he shares with vague, if slightly distracted, interest instead. it’s not a bad night, though certainly not an interesting one, and noah’s attention is half preoccupied by his phone when the rap on the door, angry and persistently annoying, catches it entirely. he takes a swig of his beer first, almost deliberately slow in his movements — he doesn’t know who it is, but already he can tell he wants to piss them off — before sauntering over to the block of wood. but nothing prepares him for the sight in front of him, nor the way shep all but barrels into his unit with the same impatience he’s always known him for. “no, please, come on in.” he returns his smile, the sarcasm falling carelessly from lips as he shuts the door behind him. the other’s presence is never unwelcome, but something in the antsy, unpleasant air that surrounds shep can’t help but leave noah on edge, too, leaning against the back of the door and wrapping his arms over his chest. “here to complain about a ‘ shit ‘ job i’ve done again, or are you stalking me now, too, angel ? i’d say i’m flattered, but you don’t have to go through all this trouble. and anyway,” a hand flies to pinch the bridge of his nose. “m’ not in the mood tonight.”
Dominic Sessa in The Holdovers - Behind the Scenes
Rent Live Star JORDAN FISHER Can’t Sleep Without His Dog ∣ Under the Covers
ANNE HATHAWAY Actors on Actors | Variety (Dec, 2023)
𝒻𝑜𝓇 : anyone !
𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖗 : 8:30pm, after dinner rush .
𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 : kitron , back of house .
𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵 of a certain bag of goodies that had peeked out the pocket of a passing server; the vibrancy of green & smell of the purest herb mankind has to offer making its way through the swinging doors of kitron's kitchen — stealthily following behind — & scampering behind vent hoods that block the maître de from spotting the intruder. he's swift in conversation when they've noticed him tailing behind, flashing them a smile & distracting them long enough to swipe it with skillful paws, luring them in with a tone of interest as he lets them pander on; complaining about the tightness of their shoes & reciprocating with a promise of a massage, coy in offer ( he won't see them again, god willing ) — before he's being snatched at the collar by a burly chef; a man of great stature & a penchant for shouting berations should anything go wrong in his kitchen. lucky's shining an innocent smile before he's being dragged out, sweatshirt lifting at his throat & body shoved through double doors without a second to waste. a gruff ' stay the fuck out ' as he's jostled forward with a strong ' oof ' , knocking back a walking bystander & nearly taking them both out. he's smacking his teeth with nonchalance, shaking his head at the baggie that's fallen somewhere near them during the scuffle. ❝ rada rada, ❞ he mocks without looking back, eyes searching around the floor for it, not yet having met their stare. ❝ my bad dog, you good ? ❞
her date is considerably less nicer than he had been when she’d first swiped right on him; late twenty minutes and a loud chewer to boot, she’s been spared a pitying glance by kitron’s waiter once or twice after refilling her glass of water ( just for a moment, she’d fallen in love with them, instead ). where he decides that dinner is the opportune time to take a phone call from one of his ‘ dogs ‘, stella takes it as the perfect opportunity to get some fresh air, excusing herself from the table and flashing a winning smile at the server ( she considers slipping them her number, but decides against it last minute ). the cool night air is a relief to her bones but it isn’t long before she’s interrupted — frame jolted back by an unseen figure, she turns to face them with a wounded expression. “not particularly, no …” manicured fingers card through her hair in an attempt to straighten herself out before her overt concern takes over, reaching forward to smoothen out the creases in his jacket. reckless or not, he’s way more interesting than anything else she’s had going on this evening thus far. “are you okay ? looks like you took a worse fall than i did.”
𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 ... › 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 @ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬
he's at the sun's mercy ; sunglasses perched on top of his nose, almost vampiric as he shied away from any semblance of a golden glow under the grecian sky. after another night spent killing his insides and barely remembering how he even got home, the blonde who would usually shower himself with the public's affections now sat obscured away from any passerby. no one should see him like this ... not when he's been so good at keeping up appearances the past few weeks. “ god, no ... not today, please. whatever this is, ” his face was in his hands as he heard steps approach and call for him. “ you better be pregnant or someone is dying for you to come to me with whatever you have right now, ”
“rude.” comes the unceremonious flick to his forehead by her hand, though it’s betrayed by the gentle way she pulls up the chair beside him so as not to disturb what she’s sure is a migraine even further. she makes herself comfortable in her seat, leaning up against the chair back before forward once more, gaze fixated on golden curls with a hint of pity. “the ibuprofen you all but begged me for is what i have with me, actually, dickhead — no one here’s dying but you.” the small tab of medicine slides across the table, only to be halted by his head in the process. “could’ve given me a ring, you know ? could’ve picked you up from … where did you go last night, hm ? i can’t promise i won’t judge.”
open starter ⇢ 𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊.
𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . . daskalos bookstore.
𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑, or at least for people of her stature — she’s been at it for ten whole minutes now, reaching high above her head for the book in question. if she were more susceptible to spiteful thoughts, she would’ve cursed avila for having an 𝓐 name & causing his works to reside on the top shelf, but she adores the man far too much for that, & besides — the first assignment of the year is her namesake, for god’s sakes. it would feel like utter betrayal to be even the slightest bit annoyed. she’s tried it all — jumping up, using another book to knock it off the shelf — & now she’s resorted to one of the more precarious options: standing on top of a stack of books on her tiptoes, lip caught between her teeth as she reaches & reaches. . . until the stack crumbles from underneath her, & before she knows it, her ass meets the outdated, scratchy carpet. with a wince, she grumbles & pulls herself up, huffing to blow the strands of hair that have fallen from their ribbons & into her face. footsteps to her left draw her attention, & she turns to her new company, smiling sheepishly. “ do you, uh … ” she turns her gaze up to the book, still sitting smugly upon its shelf. “ do you mind ? ”
he’s not in libraries often — if at all, really — but the presence of a new professor in the engineering faculty who doesn’t understand that the first week of university should mean no assignments at all leads him to flashing a cheeky grin at the librarian before ambling through shelf after shelf, looking for a specific copy of the book they’d been assigned for a paper ( not that he’s putting much effort into the endeavor beyond lazily skimming each shelf and leaving once he loses interest, but he’ll manage ). the small noise catches his attention, and he turns around to come face to face with the girl who’s found home on the carpeted floor, eyes twinkling with an unbridled amusement. noah steps towards her, leaning across the shelf as he reaches the copy of the book she’d been after with no labour whatsoever. “skills like yours, i’d advise against cat burglary as a viable career option.” he flashes her a teasing smile, arm outstretched to offer her the book before his eyes ghost over the cover: the blindfolded lady, meeting her fate. “i’d say it’s really not worth breaking your back over some light reading, but something tells me this isn’t exactly light — are you an avila kid, too ? dio … something.”
Gossip Girl (2021-). Y Lu’s Mama Tambien.
open, the dining hall, mid-day
It was only the beginning of the semester, but if you asked Percy, that didn't mean anything. He had taken a break, to be sure, but now it was time to dig back in and he was fully prepared to move full-steam ahead. His lunch sat beside him, barely touched, amongst the other materials spread across the corner of the table he occupied. Books, notebook, and laptop were all scattered around him, the latter dominating his attention as he typed feverishly.
It was only when he reached for his apple that he noticed someone approaching with a tray full of food and he cursed under his breath, gathering up his things a bit closer. "Sorry. I forgot how quickly this place fills up when classes are in session again." He gestured to the seat across from him, a space cleared up. "There you go. All yours."
“no, you’re fine.” her free hand waves his apology away as she slides her bag down to hang against the chair’s back; her other hand works to place the tray she’d been balancing on the table with as little noise as possible, gaze fixed on the male before her with a strange combination of both ease and trepidation. her ( friend ? crush ? )’s brother had not been her ideal lunch companion — she’ll be chewing ana luisa’s ear off about it later — but with how quickly the solo tables had been occupied, briar does her best to make do with the circumstances given her, no matter the murmurs her heart may make in protest.
“i won’t bother you, either; with how much it looks like you’re up to, looks like you’ll need as little distraction as possible.” she nods at the materials scattered across the table with empathy, an understanding smile. “but ... if you’d indulge me, i’d love to know what you’re working on, at least. kat always sings your praises, so i have no doubts it’s interesting.”
* fmk : claudio, genie, & sage ! — CILLA .
she pulls the cigarette from between her lips as they curl up in a dry smile. “hmm — fuck claudio. even if i know he’d call me ana luisa by accident.” she tries to search the recesses of her brain for any sort of familiarity she can associate with the name genie, and though a few moments pass where she’s still rendered unsuccessful, ah — the realization hits her like a freight train. “oh, genie —— i don’t know her as well as i ought to yet. maybe it would be a quick, painless death. it’s the least i can do for not remembering her name ?” a pause. “... then i’d marry sage, i reckon.” she makes an attempt at nonchalance, her shoulders falling with a shrug. “process of elimination.”
🐰💀🥇 from cilla xoxo
( sent: a day after felix's death anniversary ) [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] [image attached] [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] going to see how many of these i can fit in my mouth [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] place your bets
( sent: after a fight with june ) [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] have you seen june? [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] i know you were with her last. [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] you may have been his best friend but she’s my sister [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] pick up your fucking phone. now
( sent: a few days after the school year started ) [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] you’re looking better these days [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] it’s nice. [ 𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐠 ↔ dupont-lameaire ] tell anyone i said that and i WILL deny it
* fmk : samson, kota, & theo ! — BRIAR .
“ugh.” she makes a face; this is so juvenile. “er ... fuck kota … ? —— marry samson. … then the other.” which one is theo again ?
* fmk : angel, mari, & percy ! — STELLA .
“ohh, my god … such good choices !? UM,” a coquettish giggle slips out from behind her manicured hand. “marry percy … doesn’t he seem like such a sweetheart ? imagine coming home to him every night — what a dream !! i would fuck angel, because my god, have you seen him ? he’s the cutest, i think i could just eat him up …” she hums, as if content in her little fantasy, before — “and, oh … i haven’t spoken to mari much yet, but i would love to get to know her more if she’d let me ! for now i’m giving her a little kiss on the cheek …” giggles peal, blooming into full blown laughter. “look at me, do i look like i could even hurt a fly ?”
😃 : a happy voicemail ( hehe we deserve a happy cilla n june i fink !! )
“gus gus.” the nickname holds no bite on her tongue; even with the fizzle of static and bad signal one can hear the fondness in her voice, dressed in shades of strawberry champagne and spring break glee. “do you remember that show we used to watch when we were kids ? —— ambush makeover. you know the one: they’d find these sad looking saps on the street and turn them into … well, still sad saps, but better dressed. and how we’d laugh and laugh and laugh and tell each other how we reckoned we could style them miles better than they ever could ?” there’s a brief pause — like she’s waiting for a response instead of her spirit lingering in some fond nostalgia she wishes she could never be unstuck from. ( in it, she’s a good sister. in it, she’s enough. ) a beat passes. “... i’m coming home tomorrow, by the way.” her tone softens. “don’t — god, don’t tell dad, okay ? but if you meet me out back i’ll pick you up, and we can get lunch and ambush makeover each other. — not that we’re sad saps to begin with, but you know.” she’d never been good with apologies, but she thinks this might be as close to i’m sorry as she’ll ever get. her free hand toys with her pendant: a puzzle piece of van gogh’s irises, of which the person she’s leaving the voicemail for has the other half ( always incomplete, so long as they’re apart ). “text me what you wear, so we can match, yeah ? — okay. i miss you, and — yeah. text you in the morn, juney. ——— love you.”
😳 - from briar for kat...
“hey ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ so,” teeth tug at her lower lip nervously, horrified gaze fixed on the screen in front of her. “i’m actually, um, not sure if you’re back at your dorm, but a package of mine got dropped off at yours by accident,” a bright chirp of an announcement on her phone had alerted her as to that much; any frantic attempts at reaching ana luisa had been futile, and she’d rather gnaw through cement than have to ask noah fucking chandra for help. “so if you don’t mind, could you, like ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ let me know when i can pick it up ? please don’t —” she nearly blurts out in haste before trying to regain composure; breathe in, breathe out. ( the site had said the packaging would be discrete, no ? it would be marked as a plushie. no one would find out. not even — not especially — the girl she kept an unfortunately embarrassing fondness for. ) again: breathe in, breathe out. “— please don’t open it, hahaha.” the laugh feels false in her throat; a glance in the mirror tells her that she’s getting pinker by the minute. “i can go as soon as possible, actually ! just — just let me know — yeah. um, okay. bye.”
