model-hommes:
Lucas Garcez for Male Model Scene. PH: Gui Costa.
tumblr dot com
KIROKAZE
Sweet Seals For You, Always

ellievsbear

@theartofmadeline
Not today Justin
Sade Olutola

★
d e v o n
cherry valley forever
Mike Driver
$LAYYYTER
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
trying on a metaphor

Origami Around
Show & Tell

izzy's playlists!

Janaina Medeiros
seen from Japan

seen from China

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Myanmar (Burma)

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Brazil
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seen from United States
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@tarantellamaestro
model-hommes:
Lucas Garcez for Male Model Scene. PH: Gui Costa.
scavengedluxury:
Centro Direzionale. Naples, November 2015.
eyeboner:
Hakuchi
stirringwind:
everyone said you were a god…
…funny how that works out, huh, old man?
old comic about how i thought they’d often be conscious of the fact that they’re both immortal and painfully mortal.
ludwig-bullshit:
[The journey to Palermo is probably the longest three hours of his life. It ends up being more like three hours and thirty minutes, which is annoying even when you don’t have someone very important waiting for you on the receiving end of your trip.]
[He doesn’t contact Lovino other than to let him know that he is going to be a little later than expected, and that he is sorry for the inconvenience. He doesn’t tell him when the plane landed, or when he’s walking through the airport, or when he’s leaving the building…all that matters right now is getting to where he needs to be.]
[Ludwig walks with purpose, slotting his way through groups of people as carefully as possible so as not to bowl them over or waste time. Eventually. Finally. He pushes through the exit doors.]
*It hadn’t been this tough to stand still in decades - he can’t stop fidgeting, a chilled sweat like panic beading by his temples a different class from the Sicilian heat. He looks down at his outfit, white trousers below a stone suit jacket.
Does he look alright? The rest would surely follow after, he tells himself, palms starting to tingle, when he looks up.
Nothing he could point out would have chosen then as anything special, but he sees him - Ludwig - breaking through the others pouring out the revolving doors, and he’s already moving before he knows what he’s doing, running; and he doesn’t even know if Ludwig’s seen him yet until he barrels into him, arms wrapped like a vice around him. Lovino hasn’t looked up at his face and he’s shaking, eyes shut or buried in the other’s clothes and a couple of sounds like dry sobs force their way out, the heat of his breath on the fabric as the trembling gets worse. He shifts, buried now at the base of Ludwig’s neck, weakly registering “skin” - it feeling much important to anchor him down than anything else at this point*
welcometoitalia:
ITALY’S OLDEST MAN JUST TURNED 111
Valerio Piroddi, known to friends as Tziu (Uncle) Mundicu, had 111 candles to blow out on his birthday cake on Sunday, making him Italy’s oldest man. Originally from Villamassargia in southern Sardinia, he now lives in Cagliari, where he celebrated his big day with friends and family.
“He’s a true phenomenon, with a biological age of at least 20 years less than his true age,” said Roberto Pili, President of the Global Community of Longevity, which has followed Piroddi and presented the super centenarian with a plaque of recognition for his birthday.
Pili told Ansa that Piroddi has “excellent memory and motor skills”; he also lives independently and goes for a walk every morning. He worked as a farmer until the age of 85, and has a typical Mediterranean diet with plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables along with cheese and red wine. He also likes pastries and ice cream, and was able to indulge in plenty of sweets on his special day.
The number of centenarians in the country has more than tripled over the last 15 years - but why?
The longevity of Italians - particularly in Sardinia, where a high proportion of those living in its rural communities can expect to live beyond 100 - has intrigued scientists for years, and studies are regularly carried out to try to discover the Mediterranean secret. Earlier this year, a UK firm bought genetic data of over 12,000 Sardinians in an attempt to uncover just why they live so long. The world’s oldest woman, Emma Morano, has said her secret is staying single and eating eggs every day.
Other factors scientists believe to be behind the trend include antioxidant properties of traditional Italian foods, like red wine, olive oil and rosemary, as well as the emphasis on family ties and community in the country’s rural areas.
“Film noir is …
1. A French term meaning "black film,” or film of the night, inspired by the Series Noir, a line of cheap paperbacks that translated hard-boiled American crime authors and found a popular audience in France.
2. A movie which at no time misleads you into thinking there is going to be a happy ending.
3. Locations that reek of the night, of shadows, of alleys, of the back doors of fancy places, of apartment buildings with a high turnover rate, of taxi drivers and bartenders who have seen it all.
4. Cigarettes. Everybody in film noir is always smoking, as if to say, “On top of everything else, I’ve been assigned to get through three packs today.” The best smoking movie of all time is “Out of the Past,” in which Robert Mitchum and Kirk Douglas smoke furiously at each other. At one point, Mitchum enters a room, Douglas extends a pack and says, “Cigarette?” and Mitchum, holding up his hand, says, “Smoking.”
5. Women who would just as soon kill you as love you, and vice versa.
6. For women: low necklines, floppy hats, mascara, lipstick, dressing rooms, boudoirs, calling the doorman by his first name, high heels, red dresses, elbowlength gloves, mixing drinks, having gangsters as boyfriends, having soft spots for alcoholic private eyes, wanting a lot of someone else’s women, sprawling dead on the floor with every limb meticulously arranged and every hair in place.
7. For men: fedoras, suits and ties, shabby residential hotels with a neon sign blinking through the window, buying yourself a drink out of the office bottle, cars with running boards, all-night diners, protecting kids who shouldn’t be playing with the big guys, being on first-name terms with homicide cops, knowing a lot of people whose descriptions end in “ies,” such as bookies, newsies, junkies, alkys, jockeys and cabbies.
8. Movies either shot in black and white, or feeling like they were.
9. Relationships in which love is only the final flop card in the poker game of death.
10. The most American film genre, because no society could have created a world so filled with doom, fate, fear and betrayal, unless it were essentially naive and optimistic.“
—Roger Ebert, A Guide to Film Noir
girls be actin freaky at the wrong time u at the drive thru and u ask her want she want and she's like "you😛" bitch there's 3 cars behind us
Sicilia!
Da Carini
Dicembre 2015
[When the first text arrives, it finally hits him that this is happening. After god knows how long, he was finally going to be able to look Lovino in the eye again. Hear his voice in person. And that thought almost makes him panic. What is Lovino going to think? Ludwig has essentially shut himself away from the world, unsure of what to do with himself other than to work. It was weak. He was weak. And he had no excuse.]
[TEXT] I’ll be there in three hours.
[It takes him ten minutes to pack a bag and leave.]
*A quick mental equation tells him for three hours, he needs to be leaving now. He excuses himself from work - what, it was an emergency - and jumps in his car to head home. All but flying through the front door, Lovino takes a quick shower and gets dressed, satisfied enough with his reflection even though his hair was-...it’d have to sort itself out. He rarely straightened it anymore anyways; a dark, curly mess hanging off his head. Ludwig wouldn’t care, right? There were other things to complain about. Sunglasses on, he backs out into the road and heads for the airport.
He calms as he passes by the sea on his left, focusing on the journey ahead, more sure of himself now the dust had settled. All would be well. Or he thinks so, his body betraying him regardless with sweaty palms and a churning stomach. At last, the airport comes into view and Lovino swerves to catch the last free space in front of the entrance from a taxi whose horn blares indignantly, the Italian out the car anyway, exclaiming to meet the other’s protests with arms thrown up. Asshole.
He goes back to leaning against his car, reaching for a cigarette in his inside pocket, before he realises what he’s doing and stops. A colleague at work had given him one and he’d gotten back into it somewhat. Not often, just to take the edge off the stress. A few tourists seem interested in the car and he grins and greets them easily, but is too preoccupied for conversation, watching for those leaving the building.*
*worn hands, dry and dusty from the soil pick up his phone for a notification. He dials a number*
[VOICEMAIL] What is this about leaving? You can’t go without seeing me. I-… *that horrible moment he realises Ludwig can, quite easily, and he’d be well within his right* I-…Please? I’m-…I’ll fly over- I’ll leave right now, or you come here, or just- *the phone notes a long pause, Lovino’s face buried into the crook of his elbow - he has no excuses, nothing to say…and he’s terrified. That’s all he has.
He can’t tell what the fuck has happened to his voice by how it feels, but it’s high and desperate* Find me, OK? I love you.
[It was a shock. The voicemail. A voice he hadn’t heard in…years? Was it really years? At least not outside of memories and dreams. He has so many questions for Lovino. Where did you go? Where have you been? Why talk to me now that I’m about to leave? Why am I still so in love with you?]
[Once he manages to sort through his thoughts, though, he doesn’t hesitate. Of course he is going to find Lovino. Why would he ever pass up an opportunity to find him. Hold him. Tell him he…loves him too? Especially after all this time.]
[He holds his phone in front of him, staring at the keypad, unsure of what to type. Phoning doesn’t feel like an option. They can’t keep communicating through voicemail. That’s unproductive and won’t get them anywhere. Eventually, Ludwig manages the following:]
[TEXT] When and where?
*forcing his attention back to work, a while passes before his phone buzzes once more. He pauses a couple of moments at the name before opening the message, shorter than he’d expected. Or gotten used to.
It takes a little longer to remember the last thing he’d said. Had-...? A lot of fractured thoughts pile in over this lightness; hope. Lovino could think on what this meant later, already texting in his haste.*
[TEXT] sicily im in caltanisetta but can hit Palermo in two hours ill meet you at the airport
[TEXT] no, longer i need to change
[TEXT] we can go out for dinner
*He wants to add “later - I want to spend some time with you first” - in his house, in his room, soaking in the other’s physicality, but what if that’s too forward? When had he gotten so afraid?*
<3 who kissed?
(( Hey guys.
So. Wow. I’m here now rolling around on the floor wondering how to word stuff. Basically, I’m pulling this guy to a close, and shutting this account down after two and a half years.
He has changed my life tbh - and I hope whoever my replacement here is takes good care of my baby ;u;
I’ll still be lurking here on the ring as Arthur/APH England.
Thank you, truly, to everyone I’ve RPed here with Lovi, everyone who’s followed and supported us through our internal (and not so internal) screaming (and all the Italian blogs that put up with...my derp of an interpretation of your national representative “OTL)
I’m gonna stop before this turns into a proper Oscar speech and cut it off here.
Ciao a tutti :D ))