#always inspiring

[farmhand324]

[sweetbrowneyes1]

Lewis! Thank you I needed that today 🥺

[aliensoflove]

watching ronnies art transform into what it is now has been so cool

[iampartofteamvettel]

An exclusive breakfast with Seb from Reviti Insurance (15th July 2019 ([1st video]).

📹 Reviti Insurance's IG

[i-blindside]

Stana Katic | hot as summer

[it-is-bugs]

Just a rambling little vignette...

@majsmom‘s caption inspired me to actually write something.  

She always believed that she knew his scent. He could pass behind her in the kitchen and she'd instantly think, there's Lucien. Like the man himself, his smell was complex: sandalwood soap, a twinge of medical antiseptic, the roil of his Scotch, body-heated wool, starch, Brylcreem, and some days, the forbidden tobacco.

Only the few times that they were touching did she catch something else, a fragrance she couldn't identify, foreign but worryingly tempting.  It was masked by the swarming alcohol when she helped him to bed, it had frustratingly faded by the time she carried his laundry to the washer, there was only a trace on his hands when he cradled her face.  

She wanted to drink in that odor, but didn't dare. For a woman who sewed her own clothes from the remnants of others' garments, she wasn't given to extravagances.

She'd packed her bags and had left.  She knew he thought that she wanted him to ask her to stay, but she didn't. Not when she wanted to breathe him in, take him in--she had to leave, now. Though a proper parting would have been nice, to squeeze his hand hard, then later, she could nestle that palm against her cheek and inhale him one last time.  

But as usual, he did the completely unexpected thing.  He was there, his bulk filling the bus aisle, blocking an escape. Their eyes locked, she shifted, making room as he invaded her space, only to come up against the window, hot and bright. When he tried to speak, she stopped him, but he was still there, all encompassing, fingers trapping hers, arm around her shoulder, lips to her brow. Then she sank into the depths of his scent and he washed over her head. The sun on his skin, the brambles of his beard, the sky in his blue gaze. Her familiar friend became a new world to explore.

His nose brushed her temple, and she heard him breathe her in too.  

[somethingyoirelated]

"The Devil is real and he’s not some little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful, because he’s a fallen angel - and he used to be God’s favorite."