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Cosimo Galluzzi
One Nice Bug Per Day
blake kathryn
JVL
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
JBB: An Artblog!
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
NASA
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No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Misplaced Lens Cap
h
Keni
if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document
Mike Driver
Kaledo Art
we're not kids anymore.
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Indonesia
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@meg-blog-main
If I follow you, and you’d like to follow back , please follow @ariiadnes instead! That’s the main blog I use, not this one. This one still exists purely bc ariiadnes is technically a side blog. This blog is no longer in use, only used for replies and sending asks. Thank you!
“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”
not even risking that shit
scrolled past this, re-evaluated my life, then SCROOOLLLED back up and hit the damn reblog button.
Last comment same thing. Sorry to the next person who sees this. I just can’t risk it. I have things I need to do before my life becomes hell. Lol
man i fucking hate yall who tf put this up knowing damn well we all gonna reblog it im heated im really sick af bout this
I don’t play that shit lol sorry
WHyyyy
Sorry everyone
If only if only the woodpecker sighs the bark on the tree was as soft as the sky why the wolf waits below hungry and lonely he cries to the moon if only if only
Shiddd
this post followed me to Facebook and im sooo annoyed!
It’s been a MINUTE since I’ve seen Madame Zeroni, fr fr
I HATE TUMBLR FKKKK SAKES
LMAOOOO
Not tryna fuck up any of my planetary Returns~
One time I didn’t and I was broke for like a month but the next time I seen it I rebloged it and a bitch just got 500 out the blue and a 20 gift card
Cho Chang Moodboard ✨
Patroclus and Achilles ✨
hello love u all c: haven’t done one of these in a hot minute but lets do it!
rules:
mbf me :)
rb this post
send a max of 3 things
everything will be tagged #londyncelebrates
okay here’s what we’re doing y’all
send me a ♥️ + a description of your personality, and i’ll tell you which marvel character is your soulmate (if u have a gender preference also include that!)
send me a 🍒 + a description of your personality, and i’ll give you a superpower and a partner in crime
send me a 📌 + a character for a moodboard
send me a 💋 + for an aesthetic blog rate (layout below)
send me a 💉 + and make me choose between two things (i’ll gif my choice)
send me a 🍓 + and a fmk, would you rather or any other question!
tagging some mutuals under the cut so this doesn’t flop lol
Keep reading
Okay so here’s the extra stuff in the back of my QoN edition - spoiler warning!!!
I don’t think everyone has these -
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Cardan’s letters to Jude! & pls come talk to me about it!
Angsty dad and snakey mum
I love James McAvoy and Ruth Wilson with all my heart and I CANNOT wait to read this series as well as watch it.
When I say I want to join the circus I actually mean I want the mysterious, handsome, and morally dubious ring master to fall in love with me
Hit us with that sweet sweet Jily angst regarding the fury little problem. ‘You didn’t trust me!’ ‘I didn’t know you knew!’ ‘Oh, please, how could I have NOT figured it out!
Okay so I kind of altered this bc I don’t see it as something Jily would argue about? Imo Lily would be incredibly understanding about it, although once or twice she would push the point that she can be trusted, just gently rather than angrily. (Kind of inspired by @blvnk-art ‘s James is injured while helping Remus piece ).
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“How’s he holding up?”
A soft glow from the tip of Lily’s wand traces along red gashes that break ashen skin. It reminds her of red string on a map, dotted by pins, all pointing to the same suspect. James’ eyes flit to hers, briefly, before glancing away again. His lips are pierced, expression pinched. Magic may be a nicer - and quicker - alternative to visiting a muggle doctor, but it doesn’t mean the experience is overly pleasant.
Lily, despite not being anywhere near as experienced in healing charms and potions as the infirmary, had tended to James’ arm without question (although her curiosity is certainly getting the best of her now). The boys may have not admit so, but she knows the danger of any professor realising the true threat they face. What sort of danger one of their own constantly puts them in, even if it isn’t by choice.
Though she suspects Dumbledore is perfectly aware.
“Potter-”
“I don’t know who you’re on about, Evans.”
Her wand pauses for a moment, eyes too busy scanning the lines and shapes of James’ face to continue her ministrations. But he refuses to look at her, so with a soft sigh, and gentle hands, she traces along the last gash.
“I’m probably going to need to see to this again, try not to do anything too strenuous for a couple of weeks.”
He nods, lips barely moving as he thanks Lily for her time and effort - but she doesn’t move from her crouched position in front of him, even though her knees and ankles are beginning to protest. She raises her fingers, tapping his jaw lightly - there’s evidence of day old stubble beginning to show, and Lily tries to ignore how it scrapes against her slight calluses. Now isn’t the time to think of those sort of things.
James waits a moment, but finally meets Lily’s gaze, tired but steady. Her lips tug, barely a smile, but enough to soften the tense expression on James’ face to pure exhaustion.
“You can trust me.”
“Lil-”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you admit anything - plausible deniability and all that.” He scoffs lightly, but the slight tilt of his lips is enough to keep Lily going. “But I’ve figured it out, so you can trust me, and I’m willing to help anyway I can - just for future reference, of course.”
“Of course.” James repeats back, a ghost of her own surety. But he seems to appreciate the sentiment all the same. “Lily, it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just-” Slowly, his hands take hers, resting them on his knees. She grips tighter at the soft tremble in his hold, and runs her thumb across his knuckles, where reds and purples bloom like petals. “it’s not my trust to give.”
“I know.” Lily shrugs, gripping his hands once more before releasing and standing up. She bends quickly, brushing a soft kiss against a scratch on his cheek, before slipping her wand back into her hand. “But the offer is still there. Just make sure you rest, okay? I’ll cover for you in lessons tomorrow.”
It occurs to her then that this is one of those moments where she really wishes they were together, rather than caught in a constant cycle of will they-won’t they, because she would do almost anything to curl him into her harms and comfort him in any way possible.
But it’s not her job, and she’s done all she can this time round.
Can you pls reply/reblog/send in my asks some of your favourite underrated romantic scenes, whether it’s from movies, tv, books etc? Looking for inspo and also a mood boost
Okay so yes bending the knee to Tony is a scene I’m so glad they’ve released and yes it’s emotional etc but the funeral (imo) would not have had the same impact on the audience if both scenes are included in the original release. Both scenes are very similar in the way it pans over the different heroes, and how they both represent showing respect for Tony and his sacrifice. And after seeing both scenes? To me the funeral is more impactful on its own, and as a scene as a whole. Probably because it also included people such as Nick Fury and Harley. It’s not just people that have witnessed what Tony scarified and how he defeated Thanos, but also those whose lives he has impacted beforehand, years ago.
Okay so I don’t have time to write but I have the inspiration to create so send me some characters I can sketch out? Whether it’s someone from a movie, tv series, book, musical or an oc of yours? Please! Ask box is preferable but replies here are cool too!
I think that potentially the only way YA books have negatively impacted me is my now desperate need for some greater purpose in life
Alarkling Modern First Meet
I hope you like it!! On another note pls send me more alarkling people. I suddenly have a very strong need to write them
—
It’s safe to say that Alina spends most of the lecture-slash-speech somewhere between incredibly irritated and annoyingly in awe. She hadn’t exactly expected to be so conflicted - though, now that she thinks about it, it really shouldn’t have been that surprising considering who the speaker was, but she’d spent so long living in complete wonder and quite frankly in some sort of dream state whenever his name was mentioned or his picture shown, that she hadn’t even begun to consider that he would be a major pain in the ass.
Aleksander Morozova is potentially one of the most arrogant men she has ever had the displeasure - or pleasure. She really can’t tell which - to come across. As soon as he stepped up onto the stage, the crowd fell silent save for a few excited whispers and, embarrassingly, giggles. Alina almost feels ashamed to be a part of the student filled audience - almost, as she doesn’t quite have the room to judge. She had been just as besotted, if not more so, up until the moment his eyes met hers. At least, she thinks they did. She reminds herself that she has quite the vivid imagination, but still can’t seem to convince herself that his smirk at her brief shock and slight flush was imaginary.
The smirk made her unnecessarily frustrated. He knew that he commanded the crowd, he knew that he looked stupidly, ridiculously good. Handsome, even. Or, as her hormonal brain (she’s 21 and in her last year of uni and she still thinks like a bloody teenager) desperately wants to put it as she watches him talk to the more promising students of the year: really fucking hot. Alina supposes that at a base level she must just be attracted to people that have no interest in her, whatsoever. Mal’s rejection (in the form of a laugh and a shake of the head, of all things) still causes a little stab to the gut - but then again, confessing when she was completely smashed probably wasn’t the best idea. But she also quite likes how his hair isn’t completely perfect; one strand hangs down, over his forehead. Though, in all honestly, he probably had it styled that way to appear more relatable and normal. There’s also a slight crook in his nose - very slight, barely there, something Alina has noticed because, as she convinces herself, she is an art student and very practised in finding the little details (not because she has been staring at him for the past half an hour). It makes her wonder if there are small scars on his cheeks or forehead, or red scratches and bruises on his knuckles. Would it make him even more attractive? Alina frowns, fingers gripping her camera more tightly. Probably.
Alina watches him adjust the lapels of his bespoke black suit and the positioning of his silver tie, and grits her teeth. A part of her wants to completely fuck up his appearance, just to irritate him, just to remove that perfect glamour he’s so carefully sewn together. But she also kind of wants that intense attention on her. And other things, plenty of other things it isn’t remotely polite to think about in public nor about a man who is eight (nine?) years older than her and would never be interested -
“Stop glaring or smouldering or whatever look that is. He’s coming this way.” A sharp elbow juts into Alina’s side, and she only has a brief chance to glare at Genya’s professional smile before the air is effectively stolen from her lungs. Her eyes meet his again, except this time they are only a foot apart.
As Genya begins to rattle off questions, undoubtedly using her charm and wit to coax out the perfect answer for her Student Blog article, Alina takes the time to analyse his appearance up close. The silver tie has a little black embroidery, and the cuff-links in his suit jacket are little moons. Alina can’t help but think of the golden suns poked through her ears, and subconsciously tucks a lock of her white hair behind her ear. His eyes follow her movements, pause on her earrings, and slowly meet her own gaze again. They’re a startling colour and - as cliche as it sounds - unlike anything she’s ever seen. Contacts, possibly. But everything about this man seems impossibly natural: his elegance, charm, wit, face. Then Genya finishes the interview, and Alina realises that the entire time he was speaking, he never removed his eyes from hers.
She freezes for a moment, frowns, and quickly lifts her camera to take a picture. It’s with a great amount of disappointment that she realises she hadn’t succeeded in catching him off guard - in fact the picture is stupidly fucking perfect like everything else. The real deal stands before her, smirking while Genya hisses at Alina under her breath. She simply shrugs, meets his eyes, and raises the camera again.
“Sorry, just testing it out.” Alina forces herself to hold back a grimace when Genya whispers liar. “Another picture?”
“A little old to be working a student newspaper, aren’t you?” The corner of his lips lifts slightly as Alina takes a few photos. She’ll curse the amazing quality later.
“One,” she begins, crossing her arms and standing a little straighter as if to combat his towering height. “21 is not old. Secondly, it’s a favour for Genya. And I like taking photos, almost as much as I like to paint.”
“Paint?” There are others trying to grab his attention, but he remains entirely fixed on Alina. She frowns slightly and looks for Genya - who seems to have run off somewhere.
“Yeah. Abstract stuff, more than realistic. I’m an art student.”
The same smirk stretches his lips. She feels like she’s the punchline of a joke she doesn’t understand. “An art student.” His eyes flit down to her hands, as if to search for the paint and ink that usually marks her fingers. Just like she had done earlier to his own hands, searching for bruises and cuts.
Alina stiffens immediately, fully prepared to defend her chosen degree when someone finally manages to pull Aleksander away from his primary focus. He looks back to her briefly, rubbing at his clean shaven jaw. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” a quick glance at her name tag, before he meets her gaze again. “Alina.”
The way he speaks her name makes her shiver - and she hates herself for it. But if the way he looks back once more before leaving the room indicates anything, it’s that he isn’t quite done with her yet.
Alarkling Modern First Meet
I hope you like it!!
—
It’s safe to say that Alina spends most of the lecture-slash-speech somewhere between incredibly irritated and annoyingly in awe. She hadn’t exactly expected to be so conflicted - though, now that she thinks about it, it really shouldn’t have been that surprising considering who the speaker was, but she’d spent so long living in complete wonder and quite frankly in some sort of dream state whenever his name was mentioned or his picture shown, that she hadn’t even begun to consider that he would be a major pain in the ass.
Aleksander Morozova is potentially one of the most arrogant men she has ever had the displeasure - or pleasure. She really can’t tell which - to come across. As soon as he stepped up onto the stage, the crowd fell silent save for a few excited whispers and, embarrassingly, giggles. Alina almost feels ashamed to be a part of the student filled audience - almost, as she doesn’t quite have the room to judge. She had been just as besotted, if not more so, up until the moment his eyes met hers. At least, she thinks they did. She reminds herself that she has quite the vivid imagination, but still can’t seem to convince herself that his smirk at her brief shock and slight flush was imaginary.
The smirk made her unnecessarily frustrated. He knew that he commanded the crowd, he knew that he looked stupidly, ridiculously good. Handsome, even. Or, as her hormonal brain (she’s 21 and in her last year of uni and she still thinks like a bloody teenager) desperately wants to put it as she watches him talk to the more promising students of the year: really fucking hot. Alina supposes that at a base level she must just be attracted to people that have no interest in her, whatsoever. Mal’s rejection (in the form of a laugh and a shake of the head, of all things) still causes a little stab to the gut - but then again, confessing when she was completely smashed probably wasn’t the best idea. But she also quite likes how his hair isn’t completely perfect; one strand hangs down, over his forehead. Though, in all honestly, he probably had it styled that way to appear more relatable and normal. There’s also a slight crook in his nose - very slight, barely there, something Alina has noticed because, as she convinces herself, she is an art student and very practised in finding the little details (not because she has been staring at him for the past half an hour). It makes her wonder if there are small scars on his cheeks or forehead, or red scratches and bruises on his knuckles. Would it make him even more attractive? Alina frowns, fingers gripping her camera more tightly. Probably.
Alina watches him adjust the lapels of his bespoke black suit and the positioning of his silver tie, and grits her teeth. A part of her wants to completely fuck up his appearance, just to irritate him, just to remove that perfect glamour he’s so carefully sewn together. But she also kind of wants that intense attention on her. And other things, plenty of other things it isn’t remotely polite to think about in public nor about a man who is eight (nine?) years older than her and would never be interested -
“Stop glaring or smouldering or whatever look that is. He’s coming this way.” A sharp elbow juts into Alina’s side, and she only has a brief chance to glare at Genya’s professional smile before the air is effectively stolen from her lungs. Her eyes meet his again, except this time they are only a foot apart.
As Genya begins to rattle off questions, undoubtedly using her charm and wit to coax out the perfect answer for her Student Blog article, Alina takes the time to analyse his appearance up close. The silver tie has a little black embroidery, and the cuff-links in his suit jacket are little moons. Alina can’t help but think of the golden suns poked through her ears, and subconsciously tucks a lock of her white hair behind her ear. His eyes follow her movements, pause on her earrings, and slowly meet her own gaze again. They’re a startling colour and - as cliche as it sounds - unlike anything she’s ever seen. Contacts, possibly. But everything about this man seems impossibly natural: his elegance, charm, wit, face. Then Genya finishes the interview, and Alina realises that the entire time he was speaking, he never removed his eyes from hers.
She freezes for a moment, frowns, and quickly lifts her camera to take a picture. It’s with a great amount of disappointment that she realises she hadn’t succeeded in catching him off guard - in fact the picture is stupidly fucking perfect like everything else. The real deal stands before her, smirking while Genya hisses at Alina under her breath. She simply shrugs, meets his eyes, and raises the camera again.
“Sorry, just testing it out.” Alina forces herself to hold back a grimace when Genya whispers liar. “Another picture?”
“A little old to be working a student newspaper, aren’t you?” The corner of his lips lifts slightly as Alina takes a few photos. She’ll curse the amazing quality later.
“One,” she begins, crossing her arms and standing a little straighter as if to combat his towering height. “21 is not old. Secondly, it’s a favour for Genya. And I like taking photos, almost as much as I like to paint.”
“Paint?” There are others trying to grab his attention, but he remains entirely fixed on Alina. She frowns slightly and looks for Genya - who seems to have run off somewhere.
“Yeah. Abstract stuff, more than realistic. I’m an art student.”
The same smirk stretches his lips. She feels like she’s the punchline of a joke she doesn’t understand. “An art student.” His eyes flit down to her hands, as if to search for the paint and ink that usually marks her fingers. Just like she had done earlier to his own hands, searching for bruises and cuts.
Alina stiffens immediately, fully prepared to defend her chosen degree when someone finally manages to pull Aleksander away from his primary focus. He looks back to her briefly, rubbing at his clean shaven jaw. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” a quick glance at her name tag, before he meets her gaze again. “Alina.”
The way he speaks her name makes her shiver - and she hates herself for it. But if the way he looks back once more before leaving the room indicates anything, it’s that he isn’t quite done with her yet.
okay does anyone know a reliable place where I can watch the 2 hour finale of Timeless? Please help I’m desperate
I blame what happens under neon lights (Helnik)
OKay so its a kind of sexy Helnik (no actual sex, more about the tension and a lurrvely make out session) so I hope you enjoy!!! (I listened to NFWMB while writing this, in case you wanted a fun fact). Under the cut bc its a little long & i don’t to force people to scroll :)
She looks upon him in a daze.
The neon lights cast a blue glow across the planes of his cheeks and the furrow of his brow. She wants to trace the path with her teeth, learn the taste of his skin, cherish the way her taste-buds savour the very sensation of goosebumps on tongue. Her eyes are lingering across the sharp cut of his jaw when she finally feels his own eyes on her skin. Cheeks heat, and she knows they probably match the colour of her jumpsuit – but blushing can be alluring, and by the clench of his jaw, Nina knows it is working.
The attraction isn’t smooth and gentle and soothing like something out of a fairytale, it’s born of something more rough and raw. It fizzles and sparks, rather than ebbs and flows. Every move between them is both calculated and spontaneous at the same time. Neither knows how the other will act. It’s what makes it so deliciously enticing. Nina isn’t addicted to much (clothes shopping, waffles, criticising crappy medical dramas) but the look in his eyes is enough to make her reliant in an instant. He wants to hate her, with her unrelenting confidence and ability to rile him up like no one else – but he can’t. He can’t when her hips dip into her waist like that, or when the red curve of her lips is so inviting. He wants her red nails indenting his back and her teeth in his neck…
At least, that’s what she hopes he thinks of. If his thoughts are anything like hers, then they’ll be downright sinful. She smirks. All the best thoughts are.
Keep reading
