Misplaced Lens Cap
@theartofmadeline
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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NASA
Jules of Nature
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Stranger Things
Show & Tell
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Keni
will byers stan first human second
taylor price
art blog(derogatory)
trying on a metaphor
pixel skylines
Cosmic Funnies
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@mischievous-barnes
- 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞-𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 -
𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 ‧₊˚✩彡.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 ✧.｡. *.
𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 ✧.｡. *.
𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!!
𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟖 + 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 : 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃.
“it’s okay to disagree” is for things like “i like chocolate and you like vanilla” not for whether or not people deserve fundamental human rights, what the fuck
— Marguerite Duras, "The Ravishing of Lol Stein," pub. c. 1964 (via letsbelonelytogetherr)
Imagine dating Simon.
He would be a dog. Almost literally. He would sometimes shadow you around the house or he’d push your hands to his head or stomach for rubs because it feels nice to him. Like when it’s movie night and he was home. You two would be on the couch and he’d either have you in his arms or he’d have his head in your lap. It didn’t matter as long as he was touching you.
He would also fix things around the house almost the moment it was broken. The sink is leaking? You go to find him, looking through the whole house but then you give up and go back to the sink and it’s fixed??
He moves like if a dog was a shadow. And I know you know what I mean.
A Doberman probably
"To judge everyone, and to convict all the ungodly of all the ungodly acts they have done in an ungodly way, and of all the defiant words ungodly sinners have spoken against him."
Jude 1:15
Being the clueless bitch in a Situationship-turned-romance with soap. There’s a drawer in his dresser for your things. He insists on giving you his jacket when you go out. He spent a week learning how to make raspberry crown pastries because you said you can never find ones that are any good in town unless they come out of a packet. He almost demands that you stay in bed the morning after he made you squirt on his fucking cock so he can make the coffee and breakfast. He’s been badgering you non stop about digging up your passport and getting it renewed because he’s plotting to take you back to Scotland like a fucking Viking carrying the fussy, gorgeous wife he found across the sea over his shoulder.
And you have the nerve to be like “I know the sex is fun and everything, but do you…. Do you like me? 🥺 it’s ok if you don’t feel that way” and he has to stop himself from throwing up from the way the raw g-force of how fucking wrong you are hits him square in the gut
well 🧍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.
God I wish elections in the fucking US wouldn’t affect literally every other country in the world
oh! ok yeah literally unfollow me if you’re a trump supporter??? fucking weirdo
Manhandled
I just colored my old work
SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES THUNDERBOLTS*
Unlike the other men who'd text you back if you tell them you're leaving and want a divorce, Price won't respond. Oh, no, honey, that's not his style.
You think you're in the clear, crossing your t's, dotting your i's, and setting your new place up. You'd always love your Jack but it was time to move on, and move on you did.
It wasn't until you woke up one morning to the smell of—wait. Wait a fucking minute—what the fuck—who... who the fuck is in your kitchen?! And just like that, peace turned to fear and apprehension. You stumbled out of your bedroom to see Price cooking up your favorite breakfast. How did he—?
"Sit down, sweetheart." Your husband didn't turn away from the stove once.
You were too stunned to do anything else.
Price set breakfast out in front of you with your favorite drink in tow—just like you like it. You began to eat but everything felt heavy and it was hard to swallow.
And then Price lit a cigar, took a few puffs, looked at you, and smiled his disarmingly charming smile, cheeks big and everything.
"We need to talk, darling."
something something sugar-daddy!john always getting his girl tickets to all the major sporting events so you can take all the best pictures for your scrap book and your instagram
and also because you give him the best head of his life every time in the five star hotel he books for you both
gearing up to be the most insufferable coworker at the office tmrw
Rich kinda assholey Price anyone???
You're a waitress of a rather fancy restaurant. You've dealt with a lot of rich people ever since working there - some being nicer than others.
You were happily doing your job one day until your manager pulled you to the side.
"I need you to go and ask the gentleman at table seven to stop smoking"
"Why me?"
"Because I'm asking you to, try not to cause a scene" he shoos you away and before you know it, you're at the table filled with business looking men.
You cleared your throat before opening your mouth and for some reason you felt nervous. You've done this job for years but for some reason you're palms are feeling rather sweaty.
"Sir?" you aim your voice towards him and he turns around, eyeing you head to toe before raising a brow.
"You're not allowed to smoke in here, you're more than welcome to take it outside though" you say with a polite smile and hope he doesn't see how nervous you are, the rich feed on that.
He turns around and you scoff slightly. How rude.
"Sir-" you start but get interrupted.
"Come here" he beckons you with his fingers over his shoulder and you grind your teeth - you're not a dog - you thought as you do as he says.
You're standing between him and another man and he grabs your apron, pulling you closer. He looks up at you from where he sits, cigar hanging from his lips and slides something into your pocket.
"I'm sure that'll settle this problem" you're speechless as you nod before walking away. You knees felt weak as you carried yourself to the back room behind the bar.
Looking down at your apron, you saw it was bulging out and reached inside. Your hand gripped what was inside and your heart was beating out of your chest.
A wad of cash sat in your hand and you knew it was enough to pay your rent for at least 6 months.
simon riley is definitely the kind of guy who likes to smack your ass. a man won't miss a chance to do that.
you're lying on your stomach reading a book - smack.
you're cooking something in the kitchen, dancing — smack
you're standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror, getting ready for a new day - smack.
(need him)
