End of March

sheer-tights: will you post your story sometime?

my fanfic? Most likely it will be posted online (it is already posted online in an in-progress, first draft kind of way).
But I don’t know if I’ll share the link here.

Any original stories I might put online in the future, I will most likely share here, yes. But it’s not happening right now, I’m very much struggling with the one I want to write. 

artistandstudio:

Winslow Homer’s studio at Prouts Neck, Maine

Homer lived and painted there from 1883 until his death in 1910.

2 years ago ⋅ 157 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

interieure:

(by chih chen)

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cavetocanvas:

Ivan Aivazovsky, The Sunset, 1866

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favourites → Ireland

this is the country I want to visit the most.
Waiting patiently for SleepyBear to finish his studies so we can go visit his motherland together. After all that’s where he was born and all.
(no I did not start dating him because he was Irish, though it DID get my attention *ahem*) 

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Things I would like to be able to call myself one day:

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buttghosts:

rhian sheehan - la boîte à musique

(Source: allofthehands / Rhian Sheehan)

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Anonymous: Have you figured out what to do in your life?

No. Yes. Maybe. Maybe. I think. Yes. Not sure. No. Yes.
 

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you--me--dancing: what's the most beautiful thing you saw today? describe it in detail.

I live on the second floor of an old house, long ago renovated and divided into small apartments. Falling in front of my bedroom window are the drooping branches of a tall tree. The next house is fairly close by, all red bricks and white window frames. Sunlight falls, in the late afternoon, in the space between and dapples the leaves of the tree with light. They move and shimmer in green patterns, all light and dark, luscious and bright. There isn’t enough time to catalogue all the shades I see in them.

The light passes through them and spills all over my bed. I lie on my back in it, and let the shadows of the leaves move across my bare stomach, the touch warm and ghostly. I have to close my eyes under the brightness but still, I can feel them. I curl up like a cat.

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July has a weird heartbeat and I am tired of trying to find the rhythm in it.
Erratic poundings and birdsongs are not as beautiful as they appear.

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theevildead-:

by hasisi park

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I just sorta choked on a cherry pit.
I did see my life flash before my eyes for a quick second there.
There was a lot of Star Wars references and painful bumping into furniture.

Still trying to decide if I’m okay with that or not :)

2 years ago ⋅ 9 notes

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thouartgolden:

By Ériver Hijano 

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Anonymous: what's your favourite word(s) at them moment?

at the moment?

devour. 

2 years ago ⋅ 1 note