
@theartofmadeline
occasionally subtle
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Misplaced Lens Cap

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Three Goblin Art
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

titsay
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
will byers stan first human second
DEAR READER
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

JVL

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
noise dept.
Not today Justin

tannertan36

Janaina Medeiros

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@ofbravery
“…I want enough time to be in love with everything.”
—
Marina Keegan, The Opposite of Loneliness: Essays and Stories
(via thequotejournals)
:: having a great time being told I’m an embarrassment
Alfeo on Flickr
Musée du Louvre, Paris, 2005
Photo by Candida Höfer
See more Candida Höfer posts here.
task 001 : anna
In the dream, the air is frozen.
She is frozen. Her hands, her feet, her lips, even her hair. Icicles, all around her. In her. Through to her very bones. The whole world is frozen.
Anna takes two steps, three -- each and every footfall is an eternity to her frosted frame, and she struggles with the effort. This isn't a very nice dream. The worst part is how real it feels -- she can feel the pain of the snow and icy wind against her face, fiercer than any blizzard she'd ever been in before. She felt it and heard it in the air, she could hear her breath rattle in her lungs. She heard someone, saw a figure running towards her, calling her name --
And her reply: "Kristoff!" It cuts through the air like a song. Who was 'Kristoff'? She didn't know any Kristoff. But, then again, in a rush, she did know, and she didn't know how she could know, but there it was. She felt it in an instant, a burst. And she felt her feet struggle to move just a bit faster. Reach a bit farther through the snow. Love. Love.
In the dead silence of the frozen air, she heard the unmistakable sound of a sword leaving its hilt, and she turned. Anna saw her sister, crumpled but beautiful. Unlike she'd ever seen Elsa before. Draped in blue crystals, icy lace, a wonderful frosted gown but...but she was on the ground. She was crying.
"Elsa," she whispered and watched her breath turn to frost. And, all at once, Anna saw another man's hands wrapped around his sword, ferocity in his step. She wasn't frozen at all as she raced towards her sister. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything else except getting to Elsa. Elsa! Her arms stretched out in front of her, her legs moving almost on their own. A cry from her lips. Anna would do anything to stop it. Anything to protect Elsa. True love. "No!" She felt the solid ice consume her heart at the same moment she fell into darkness.
________
Anna sat straight up in bed, the darkness was too much to bear. She scrambled to the bathroom, turned on the lights, and didn't care that it blinded her for just a second. It was so real, so real. She turned the hot water on in her sink, as hot as it would go without scalding her, and washed her hands, her face, her neck.
Glancing at the clock: 6:05 am. A practical time to get up, and Anna knew she wasn't about to go back to sleep. Not with the lingering dreamscape waiting for her. Even after her shower, Anna was still shivering. She wouldn't be warm again until later that night, after finally caving in and texting Elsa. Sorry sis, can't talk -- but I miss you and love you! Talk soon, I promise, E.
It wasn't much, but it was enough, and it warmed Anna to the core. That night, she didn't have any bad dreams.
But....she did dream she was kissed by a troll....
seduce me with ur art history knowledge
:: going to post my tasks for anna and raps sometime this week when i get a chance ! i've been thinking about them and i want to make sure they are good
i need something romantic to happen to me like right now
:: me feeling like I want to make anna a casual ice hockey player because we just won our game 9-1
I love carbs I love pasta and bread and potatoes what would like Be without carbs
William-Adolphe Bouguereau (French, 1825-1905)
Bergère
Elle Fanning photographed by Andreas Ortner (2020)
Tatsuji Miyoshi, tr. by Edith Marcombe Shiffert & Yūki Sawa, from Anthology of Modern Japanese Poetry; “A Boy”