oozey mess
noise dept.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
trying on a metaphor
if i look back, i am lost
Kiana Khansmith
Not today Justin
No title available
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
KIROKAZE
Show & Tell
Misplaced Lens Cap
sheepfilms
No title available
Mike Driver
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Andulka
đȘŒ
wallacepolsom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from New Zealand
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands
seen from Singapore
seen from Colombia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
@hellopurpletiger
Appearing like trenches dragged into the earth, sunken lanes, also called hollow-ways or holloways, are centuries-old thoroughfares worn down by the traffic of time. Theyâre one of the few examples of human-made infrastructure still serving its original purpose, although many who walk through holloways donât realize theyâre retracing ancient steps.
- Allison Meier in Atlas Abscura
âDaughter of Eve,â said Aslan in a graver voice, âothers also are at the point of death. Must more people die for Edmund?â
Potato
âą Headcanon that Draco and Harry become neighbours in Muggle London after the war because Thatâs Just Their Luck.
⹠And that as the months go by, their relationship starts to shift into some kind of⊠friendship, against all odds. They talk sometimes, and they even joke. The wary looks turn into smirks, and Draco reaches a point where he has to chastise himself every time he finds himself thinking about Potter.
âą Because heâs only trying to be friendly, for Merlinâs sake. Thatâs totally why he winked at you this morning, stop making things up, Draco.
âą And so one day Draco is at the supermarket and he suddenly hears, from behind him,
âą âIf you were a vegetable, I think youâd be a cute-cumber.â
âą Dracoâs reaction? Well, first of all, AKSJSJSHSHDHK because did Potter just flirt with him?? Did he JUSTâ
âą And second of all, THE POTATO WAS ALREADY IN HIS HAND. And no, he did not throw it on purpose. He panicked, okay?? Anyone would have reacted that way. Heâs sure of it.
âą âOuch! What was that for?â says Potter as he rubs his temple.
âą âI should ask the same!â Draco exclaims. âWhat kind of pick up line is that!?â
âą Anyway, so Draco ends up in Harryâs house, because, âNo, Malfoy, Iâm not seeing a Healer for a concussion Iâm sure I donât have!â âWell Iâm not risking having the death of the saviour in my own hands!â
âą Harry lies on his couch, and Draco gets a bag of ice from the freezer and presses it against his forehead.
âą And Potter, the fucking git, smirks that stupid smirk that has been driving Draco insane for weeks and says, âHey, the pick up line worked after all. Youâre in my house now.â
âą âI swear, Potter, if you donât keep your mouth shut I will snap.â
âą âOh, so like you did just a moment ago when you threw a fucking potato atââ
âą Draco covers Potterâs mouth with a hand, and Potter, the absolute little shit, licks him.
âą âThatâs it! Iâm out of here!â Draco proclaims, though he doesnât stand up. Potter just laughs at him, and Draco whines, which only makes Potter laugh harder. And really, having such a contagious laugh should be illegal.
âą In the end, Draco stays for dinner. Only because he doesnât trust Potter not to faint if heâs left alone, of course. He totally hates being there, in Potterâs kitchen, with Potter standing close to him as they work together, bickering all the while.
âą Oh, by the way, can you guess what they cook?
iâm casually watching natsume yuujinchou and iâm,, love him he is soft
showing up late to a meeting with an iced drink is a power move. like with hot drinks the cup is opaque and people cant tell the temperature so they dont know how long ago you got it. maybe its hours old. maybe you just got caught in traffic. who can say. but iced drinks. its clear. they can see the ice. they can see if its still frozen. they look you in the eye and they know you were standing in line fifteen minutes ago and made the conscious, deliberate decision to get a mocha frap instead of being on time. and then you made ANOTHER conscious, deliberate decision to bring it into the meeting with you, informing everyone in attendance that on your list of priorities, each and every one of them ranks firmly below one (1) mocha frappuchino.
By Cassandra Jean
I love how happy the puppy is as the kitten comes to visit
Delete this website and only leave this behind
This would be so much easier if youâd stop trying to kiss me and just let me HOP DOWN, Fred.
This is so cute
There is always room for animal videos on my blog
My eyes are tearyâŠ.đą
help them hooman ;-;
This is simultaneously the best and worst comic i have ever made. Itâs called âHarry and Draco say the fuck word.â
Art by @deluminatorillustrator
Follow me on: Twitter or Instagram or Buy me a Coffee
âI DONâT KNOW AND IâM SO SORRYâ
can she just get an award or something
I reblog this whenever it pops up on my dash.
So many directions she could have gone with this jokeâŠout of infinite possibilitiesâŠshe picked the best possible direction.
This will forever be my favorite
mcu meme  - 4/10 scenes.
Itâs the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation.
I see this scene reblogged a lot off the one Hiddleston blog I follow, but it almost always ends with Lokiâs âThere are no men like meâ line, which is completely missing the fucking point of the scene. And I get that itâs about the Hiddleslove, which is great, but itâs completely missing the fucking point of the scene. And it is a very important point.
This is one of my favourite moments in the whole MCU because of its incredible power and strength. This is not Captain America with his super soldier serum juice standing up to a god. This isnât even a young man who might think heâs somehow got a chance against the prick with the horns. This is an old, old man who knows, who knows, that heâs probably going to die because of what heâs doing, but he is not going to kneel to another man like Hitler.
Maybe he did, seventy years ago. Maybe thatâs why he would rather die now than remain on his knees. Maybe he *didnât*. Maybe he fought against his own countrymen, because he wouldnât kneel to a man like this. Maybe heâs always been one to stand up. Maybe he lost everything once because of it. Everything except his integrity, and maybe heâs ready to die instead of risking losing that now, at the end of his life. Maybe his integrity cost him so fucking much seventy years ago that he hopes heâs going to die for it now because he almost wishes heâd have died for it then, but if heâs going to die for it, heâs goddamn well going to die with it.
Maybe heâs a Holocaust survivor. Maybe heâs Jewish. Maybe heâs gay. Maybe heâs Romani. We donât know.
We donât know anything about this man, except heâs the bravest goddamn person in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
And thatâs why it bothers me every time I see this scene go by with his response cut from it. Because itâs missing. the. point.
This old man is a real hero. Heâs who we need to aspire to be.
08/06/18
Mercia and Tigerâs June Prompt Challenge #5 Do you believe in love at first sight?
(Frostmaster - Loki/Grandmaster)
Fingertips trailed lightly down his back, sometimes rubbing along the little ridges of his spine or drawing little patterns into his skin. Loki shivered and forced himself to relax, breathe (just not too deeply.) His mouth felt both dry and weirdly sticky.
The Grandmaster sighed, cool breath tingling over his skin and raising the hairs, sounding deeply satisfied.
âDo you believe in love at first sight, my pet?â said the Grandmaster, his hands drifting further and further down. Loki tried not to tense.
He swallowed. âDo you?â he replied, carefully. It was hard to tell what kind of answers the Grandmaster wanted to hear, so it was perhaps safer not to answer at all.
(But then it was getting harder to tell anything at all.)
The fingers stopped, and Loki could not tell whether or not it was relief he felt or some deep needing, like an unsatisfied itch within the bones. Which was wrong, of course. Because he didnât want it - even if it felt like he needed it.
âAh, ah, ah, Lo-lo. I asked you first,â tutted the Grandmaster, his fingers hovering tantalizingly over his skin, but still paused.
What did he want Loki to say? What did Loki need to say?
What difference would it make?
âI wonât be mad,â the Grandmaster promised, pressing a kiss into his shoulder, âthough, I have to be honest, it does make me sad when people donât.â
âWell, in that case, I most certainly do believe in love at first sight.â
It was a laughable matter to discuss, anyway.
âMmm⊠yes. I thought youâd say that,â he giggled, breath ghosting gently over him. Loki drew in closer. âAlways so eager to please, arenât you?â
Loki felt himself shrug, and his body shift helplessly further into the Grandmaster. âOf course,â he heard himself whisper, so needy, so desperate (but for what? ) âAnything for you.â
There was a sweet scent, itching his nose. Almost sickly, and thick like syrup or honey. Addictive, almost. It filled up his head with a sort of fuzzy haze. Kind of nice, for a change. To just float along, passively, always up and never down. On a cloud. He could taste the sugar on his tongue, rich and intoxicating.
âOh, I know pet,â and the Grandmaster bit at his earlobe gently and tugged him even further down. Loki sighed contentedly. âThatâs what Love is, isnât it?â
have a hug
and some more scribbles
MUSLIMS ARE GETTING PUT IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS IN CHINA
MUSLIMS ARE GETTING PUT IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS IN CHINA
MUSLIMS ARE GETTING PUT IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS IN CHINA
MUSLIMS ARE GETTING PUT IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS IN CHINA
Links to articles about this in The Independent and The Washington Post.
âMuslims forced to drink alcohol and eat pork in Chinaâs âre-educationâ camps, former inmate claims âThe psychological pressure is enormous when you have to criticise yourself, denounce your thinking,â says detaineeâ these are from may 2018.
The majority being discriminated against are called Uyghurs. Khazaks, Uzbeks, and Tajiks are also being ostracized. They are Turkic minorities. They are people. And the world is unaware.
There is an estimated one million people in these so called âre-education campsâ. Uyghur people are being forced to assimilate into Chinese culture through marriage. Uyghur children are forced to learn Mandarin and Uyghurqi, the language, is prohibited to be taught in schools. There is a lot of Uyghur unemployment due to ethnic discrimination. Uyghur people are routinely, unjustly imprisoned, and many die. An elderly Uyghur poet was imprisoned. An Uyghur couple my family knows was beaten, and the wife suffered a miscarriage. These are just a few examples of discrimination.
Rebiya Kadeer is fighting for our voices to be heard. She is one of many who was unjustly imprisoned, due to her political activism. She was put on death row and was told to keep quiet or her family would be killed. More than 30 of her relatives have been unjustly detained in the concentration camps. Read her book (Dragon Fighter).
My culture is forcefully being erased. My people are dying. Who is listening? Who can help us?
This is ethnic cleansing.
This is the coming of the second Holocaust. I know that that word cannot be used lightly, which is why I am using it. I hope you all understand the severity of the situation.
Please spread the word. Be aware of this. Tell your friends, your family, anyone who will listen.
Uyghurs canât reach out for help, but you can on their behalf.
Please.
Ending the day with another Draco to celebrate two things at once
Mercia and Tigerâs June Prompt Challenge #5: âLove at First Sightâ
Pairings: Drarry
Words: 1389
Love at first sight - it was the sort of notion that Draco admired. In his firm opinion, it took a very strange sort of mindset to even believe in such a thing in this day and age. It was true - he thought - that people could certainly find lust at first sight. Most relationships started like that - on the basis of how hot the person was, or how much you fancied them. Love - the non-platonic sort anyways - Â was a lot more complicated.
He liked to think he knew what it was. The quiet contentment that his parents luxuriated every time he visited them in France, the youthful plastic and political smiles that made them a very handsome couple during his childhood, replaced by wrinkled lines and soft gestures. He liked to think he saw glimpses of it, little windows into other people's lives and their intertwined hearts. It was in the way Pansy and Astoria would burst into laughter, overexuberant and almost hysterical, until it should have made them nearly sick with it but instead beaming from ear to ear so hard it seemed like they'd caught the stars between their eyes. Sometimes, he saw it in strangers too - the way an elderly woman held open the door for the older gentleman behind her, fingers flicking through sign language fast and a teasing glint in her eyes; or the face someone made when stepping out of a flower shop - somewhere between proud and bashful.
But it wasn't something he could say he had experienced for himself.
He'd had plenty of his share of partners, of course. Draco knew he sometimes came off a little too strongly, but he liked to think that his personality and his looks weren't not attractive. He was twenty-five, in the prime of his life, why shouldn't he have his pick? Of the four serious relationships he'd been in, none of them had made him look at them the way he'd seen other people look at their significant others. Not a single one. After the initial flutter of novelty, the routine would sink in and then suddenly Draco would find himself glancing across the table on a date and thinking - was this better than nothing?
His job as a photographer meant he had to travel a lot - and thus, was usually his go-to excuse for a break-up. "I'm sorry - this long distance thing isn't working - we should just - " was his typical spiel and his mother seemed to think he'd gotten it down to an art. It wasn't that they were bad relationships, or shitty partners, just that he wanted something special - as cliché as that sounded. He didn't want to just settle for who he could get.
"Oh, and what do you think I did?" His mother would say primly over the phone, her tone light and airy, "I settled for your father, you know, and now I have a wonderful son, and a loving husband - you've grown up so much, that I forget what a child you are sometimes, Draco."
So perhaps, he had no idea what love was after all.
But it was something of a personal project of his to capture it in a frame. How did a slight smile differ from a look of love? What changed between shaping an expression on your face to looking at someone with love? He had thousands of snapshots in his studio of the faces of his friends that he'd bribed into being used as subjects on film, or black and white stills of people going around their everyday lives, whilst Draco tried to understand their expressions, just a little.
Despite all of that, he'd yet to actually capture the cliché 'love at first sight' - ironic, since that was the theme the fashion mag was going for in their May issue. They'd been flown out from London to Los Angeles and driven to the shoot location the next morning with little preamble in order to set up before the models arrived. The weather was far too hot for anything Draco would deem Spring, but at least the urban sets meant air conditioning. As usual, he'd brought Pansy with him to manage and assist - her official title was as his P.A. but that had somehow devolved into meaning he was responsible for giving her feedback on her selfies and getting updated on the gossip that he missed while focusing through the lens.
The shoot had run overtime, lasting several hours because the models just wouldn't move their face right for a theme like love at first sight and Draco was hot, and irritated, and wasn't nearly as recovered from his jetlag as he'd liked, which was why he flop down beside his unprofessional P.A on the sofa in their trailer with a grunt and tried to do his best to imagine something cold and sweet right about now.
"Ooh! Food's ready," Pansy's voice was annoyingly cheerful, "I can hear the caterers setting up."
"Not hungry," He mumbled into the cushions, macramé threading tickling his nose. "Lemme sleep."
"Draco."
"Nuh."
"Draco."
He closed his eyes.
"Fine - I'm starving, so I'm going." She said pointedly, before the clicks of her heels got quieter, followed by the sounds of the door.
There was another shoot after this, swapping the idyllic urban street they were in for an office shoot with chrome and metal finishes and glass several hundred metres above the busy streets. The six models (six now, because he told the seventh to go home) would be modelling an outfit each, and he'd need enough full body and close-ups to keep the stills intimate enough for the theme but also show off each garment.
Then after that, there was the reviewing process - he'd need to get the photos sent to the editor's office before eleven tonight and to do that, he'd need to go over the hundreds of frames on the memory card, and -
A loud knock interrupted his thoughts, plans vanishing in his head like smoke. Draco scowled, trying to find the tail end of the idea - right, the memory card and then the -
The knock repeated itself louder this time, and he'd just opened his mouth to tell Pansy to fuck off when the door opened of it's own accord and a distinctly not-Pansy stepped through with a fierce scowl on his lips. The man didn't even look up, breaking left away from the door to set down a tray with little finesse and not at all gently, the soup inside the bowl sloshing dangerously near the edges. He had dark hair, black and thick, glossy and messy like it would catch between his fingers at the slightest tugs. Framed by a pair of rounded glasses, were bright green eyes that were bracketed by a smattering of barely-there freckles on the man's dark skin.
He wasn't a model - he didn't have the build for it, lean though he was and well-muscled from what Draco could see under the white caterer's uniform that clung to him slightly  in the heat. The man - because he was definitely a man - bared a flash of white teeth between rosy-pink lips, mumbling things that Draco probably wasn't supposed to hear.
"Stupid Garcia, send your fucking sous chef on your fucking errand, why don't you?" The man hissed to himself, in an English accent, strangely; laying out the silverware into the tray. "Fucking celebrities, why do you need a fork for fucking bisque?" There was a clatter and a sigh as the man - sous chef, hot sous chef - finished up and made to turn, and abruptly Draco realised he was about to be caught staring at the man, having overheard opinion's he was most likely not supposed to -
"Motherfucker!" The man spat, broad shoulders jerking in shock as Draco finally got a chance to see the nametag on his breast pocket.
Harry.
Quite a shame his mouth wasn't as sweet as it looked. Maybe it could have been - not love, no, - but something like it. A warm, heady feeling uncurled in Draco's chest.
"No thank you, not my type," He said, arching one brow as the caterer's cheeks flushed. But you are.
I have a silly request! Hinata and Yachi, gay bffs, awkwardly asking their least intimidating (aka tall) sempai, Noya, for dating advice (for Kageyama and Shimizu respectively). Tanaka overhears and tries to help too. Basically, Karasuno's Designated Heterosexualsâą trying to help out their gay kohais but having no idea what they're doing. (Maybe the third years save their disaster children, maybe not. Up to you.)
hskjdfkjs I hope you enjoy this nonsense. Itâs kinda cracklike, almost, because this prompt just makes me laugh. Thank you so much for your patience my friend~
âHinata-kun,â Hitoka says, holding onto his messenger bag tightly so he doesnât run off. He vibrates slightly with that eternal wellspring of energy that seems to keep him running. Very few people have energy like Hinata. âAre you sure about this?â
âOf course,â Hinata says, grinning widely at their target with stars in his eyes.
Hitokaâs not so sure.
She understands Hinataâs plan fairly well. It makes sense, it would even be considered a good plan. After all, Hinata is planning to ask out Kageyama. Kageyama has a scary face sometimes and itâs never more scary than when heâs dealing with Hinata. He gets this narrow eyed look with twitching eyebrows and anything from a pouting frown, like he canât believe heâs being forced to spend time with Hinata, to an outright snarl.
Itâs kinda funny how even though he acts like he canât stand Hinata it took them half of the lunch period to convince Kageyama that he didnât need to go with them. He looked kinda betrayed too, pouting and glaring and calling Hinata more names than usual. Hinataâs got his work cut out for him trying to woo Kageyama Tobio.
So yeah, Hinata needs all the help he can get. His idea of asking for help is a good one. Where it all breaks down is where Hitoka comes in.
See, Nishinoya is a huge fan of Shimizu.
This seems like a non sequitur until you remember that Hinataâs plan isnât just that heâs going to ask Nishinoya for advice on asking Kageyama out, itâs that Hitoka is going to ask for advice on asking Shimizu out at the same time.
Hitoka is going to die. Sheâs going to be killed. She knows how serious Nishinoya and Tanaka are about Shimizu. Sheâs seen them defending her from strangers even looking at her. Theyâre super fans, the kind she was scared of the moment she first saw Shimizu and how amazingly beautiful she is. Hinataâs idea of asking for advice from Nishinoya is great for him but theyâll never find Hitokaâs body.
This is all because they started commiserating on their crushes together. Hitoka should have just kept her mouth shut. She should have continued to crush from afar. She shouldnât have ever thought it was a good idea to give Hinata encouragement and ideas.
âHinata-kun,â Hitoka hedges.
âDonât worry, Yacchan,â Hinata says turning his blinding smile on her. âNoya-senpai is so cool, heâll know what to do.â
All panic aside, Nishinoyaâs coolness is a matter of opinion.
Hitoka doesnât really have the chance to try another tactic. Hinata gives a shout of glee and takes off towards Nishinoya. Hitoka, having her fingers still tangled around the strap of Hinataâs messenger bag, is towed along.
âHinata-kun!â
Hinata either doesnât hear her or ignores her. Before she knows it sheâs skidding to a stop in front of Nishinoya in Hinataâs wake.
âShouyou!â Nishinoya says, ruffling Hinataâs hair. Hinata leans into it and beams, bringing to mind an image of an over-excited dog. This is not the first time Hitoka has had this mental image and sheâs sure it wonât be the last. âAnd Yachi-san, what a rare treat.â
âH-hi, Nishinoya-senpai.â
Nishinoya beams at her.
âNoya-senpai,â Hinata says, causing Nishinoya to puff out his chest in response. âYouâre cool, right?â
Nishinoya seems to stand straighter. âI am, if I do say so myself!â
Itâs like watching some kind of car accident. Hitoka can see her death coming but sheâs powerless to stop it, frozen with her fingers caught in the canvas of Hinataâs bag.
Hinata claps his hands together in front of his face and closes his eyes tightly, bowing his head. âPlease help us ask out our crushes!â
âAw, yeah,â a familiar voice says, causing Hitoka to screech in fear. Tanaka materializes from behind them. Hitoka clutches Hinataâs bag strap tighter and hopes that heâll protect her. âOur kouhai are growing so fast.â
Nishinoya makes a pleased sound, framing his chin with the âLâ of his finger and thumb. His pleased grin almost seems to glint in the sunlight itâs so wide. âThey really are, Ryuu, and they know who to turn to.â
Tanaka slides to Nishinoyaâs side and throws an arm around Nishinoyaâs shoulders. âWeâll help them, right Noya-san?â
Nishinoya fistpumps. âHell yeah!â
Hinata fistpumps back. âYeah!â
Hitoka is getting the feeling she should have run away a long time ago.
âSo,â Tanaka says, pointing at them. âWho are the lucky crushes?â
This is it. This is the end of her life.
âIâm going to ask out Kageyama,â Hinata says without a hint of embarrassment. He says it with the same excited, determined tone and expression that he uses when he says heâs going to play volleyball or show Kageyama up with some absurd feat of physical fitness.
In the same breath Hinata continues, âYacchan is going to ask out Shimizu-senpai.â
Hitoka closes her eyes and waits for death to be swift.
âI see, I see,â Tanaka says. He doesnât sound angry. Maybe he hasnât processed it yet.
âYou know what you two need,â Nishinoya says, excitable. âGuts!â
âOowah, so cool!â Hinata replies, shifting under Hitokaâs hand.
Hitoka cracks her eyes open and eyes the scene.
Hinata is currently mimicking Nishinoya, who dropped down into his rolling thunder pose. Theyâre grinning at each other like absolute goofballs and Tanaka is laughing a great booming laugh, stance wide and arms crossed loosely over his chest like heâs some kind of mob boss in a bad movie overseeing the success of his underlings. Neither of them had batted an eye at the reveal that Hitoka is planning out ask out Shimizu. The Shimizu they tend to refer to as theirs and throw an absolute fit over anyone outside of the volleyball club looking at for more than a split second.
Wait, is this because sheâs in the volleyball club?
No, thatâs ridiculous.
Whatever the reason, they seem to have no problem with Hitoka asking Shimizu out. Maybe they think sheâs worthy or something.
Hitoka canât help but relax slightly and smile. Maybe this wonât be so bad after all.
âWe just need to walk right up to them and do it! Letâs go right now!â
On second thought, this is the worst idea ever.
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