You know what I'm a slut for? When a character visibly drops a ruse. Like, the way their face changes the moment they give up a facade and reveal themselves.
This applies to revealing love, apathy, anger, evil intent. I mcfuckin love it.
almost home
sheepfilms
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
No title available
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

roma★

Andulka
macklin celebrini has autism

titsay

Kaledo Art
Monterey Bay Aquarium
cherry valley forever

#extradirty
NASA
Show & Tell

Origami Around

shark vs the universe

Janaina Medeiros
we're not kids anymore.
KIROKAZE

seen from Türkiye
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@thealphafairy
You know what I'm a slut for? When a character visibly drops a ruse. Like, the way their face changes the moment they give up a facade and reveal themselves.
This applies to revealing love, apathy, anger, evil intent. I mcfuckin love it.
14.03.2021 ✨ Happy Sunday 📚
Instagram: andotherlawstories
𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲.
-𝐋𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐆𝐥ü𝐜𝐤
Dancing to classical music in a satin nightgown at midnight. Writing cursive in a worn, leather journal filled with perfume and dried, pressed flowers. Daydreaming about the person you love. Using dead flowers as a decoration. So many flowers. Tea with milk and sugar. Fairy lights. Living dramatically, with a love for life. Burning with passion. A strong desire to learn another language. Chaotic, yet somehow romantic, academia. Writing for those you love. Seeing life as a novel in the works. Complimenting that beautiful stranger at the store and watching their face break out in smiles. Romanticizing life. Rewatching your favourite movie for the eleventh time this week. Learning to love yourself. Loving to write, finding solace in the feeling of a pen on paper. Loving people wholeheartedly. Soft skin, writer's hands. Sleeping with a book under your pillow.
mercury aspecting neptune // dark academia
facsicnation with the occult, receptive, deep imagination
You'll see me walk out of the room with perfect poise and impeccable posture, then hear me screech at my bastard goblin cat while my shadow t-poses. I am chaos
“It will have blood, they say: blood will have blood”
~ William Shakespeare
speak of me as i am. nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice. then must you speak of one that loved not wisely, but too well.
act v, scene ii. othello, the moor of venice — william shakespeare
types of academia pt. 1
dark: black coffees and teas, silver signet rings, worn paperbacks, ink smudged hands, eyes in starlight, frayed sweaters, cashmere, wine colored lips, dark lashes, the smell of liquor and cigars, broken glass, humming softly down corridors, stacks of books all around your room, oak and vanilla, the perfect mix of sugar and poison, speaking in ancient languages, rain fogging your glasses, old clocks ticking, vinyl static, searching for meaning, lines of poetry written down your arms, obscured by an air of ambiguity, morally grey... murder?
cryptid: journal full of research and hand drawn sketches of cryptids, shelves full of sci-fi novels, binoculars and a chunky camera from the thrift shop shoved in your backpack, maps with red string and mysterious newspaper clippings pinned on the wall, looking for clues, hundreds of travel plans but none follow a coherent itinerary, you swear that was a ufo in the sky last night, dreaming to make a discovery bigger than life
goth: dark lipstick, abandoned buildings, velvet dresses, lace trimming, feathers around your feet, piano notes stretching through empty halls, the sand of an hourglass falling quicker, fishnet socks, ornate mirrors and candelabras, kerosene lamps, first edition copies of books, smudged eyeliner, a silhouette behind a moonlit window, stoppered bottles of mysterious liquids, melancholy and roses, living in legend
witchy: old grimoires gathering dust, clippings of your favorite spells pinned up, diagrams of plants inked in black in your book of shadows, teacups with already read tea leaves, tracing the lines on your friend/lover’s palm and secretly interpreting the meanings, incantations of the stars and planets, whispering to the plants on your windowsill before bed, piercings and stacked silver rings that catch the moonlight just right, lipstick the color of coagulated blood, smudged sigils up and down your arms under long sleeves
science: leather bound journals full of graph paper and notes, beakers and tubes of chemicals, researching the history of alchemy, the familiarity of the lab coat, the warmth of the soft yellow light in your room after the harsh fluorescents of the laboratory, your favorite research articles pinned to your wall, a folded copy of the periodic table in the pocket of your favorite jacket, debating over different scientific theories with your friends instead of studying, writing your poetry in chemical formulas and comprehending through atomic structure