creativitv-blog - Tumblr blog

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flashmob sketches of Eames and Arthur

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Morten Rustad - Norway: A Timelapse Adventure | gif by FD

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        You can sleep now, you said. You can sleep now. You said that. I had a dream where you said that. Thanks for saying that.            You weren’t supposed to.

Richard Silken, “Straw House, Straw Dog,” Crush

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Bastille || Skulls FULL

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Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince

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in case you need a wish tonight | credit: magic-spelldust

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PAPERCUTS | Peter Callesen

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           ❛   –––––––––––– ease up, big man.   ❜

                        not that he was really even paying attention to any of the man's                         body language, teasing remarks always spilling before he's had                         time to really think.  his body slumped further into his seat as he                         settled his palms against his stomach, becoming less and less                         focused on the workload in front of him as he neared the end of                         the day.  his lips curled upwards into a grin and he whistled.

            ❛   we should look into hiring a masseuse here.   ❜

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Plot # 38: Notes on a Coffee Cup

Muse A frequents a coffee shop every day after school/work, Muse B works as a barista there. Muse A always sits at the same table by the window, in plain-sight of the counter, preoccupied with a book or their laptop. Muse B can’t help but notice Muse A and admire them from afar. Too shy to go up and talk to Muse A at their table, Muse B finds another way to make an impression. Muse B begins to write nice messages on Muse A’s coffee cups, gradually getting a little bolder each day. “Have a nice night.” “That must be a good book.” “You look nice today.” “You have a cute smile.” Usually, by the time Muse A notices these little notes, Muse B has switched shifts with someone else. One afternoon, Muse A comes in and orders their usual from Muse B. When the order is ready, Muse A makes sure to read the note right away. This time, the message reads: “Would you like to go out with me?” 

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      dreamless.  anyone want a starter?

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Inception (2010)

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Listen, there’s something you should know about me… about inception. An idea is like a virus, resilient, highly contagious. The smallest seed of an idea can grow. It can grow to define or destroy you.

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Inception + details

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                                                                   { ♪ }                                     ❛   i’ll be with you in your dreams.                                             the world is darker than it seems.   ❜

                                                                ₁. ₂. ₃. ₄.

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      it wasn't often that eames had the pleasure of working within a structure that he was so familiar with, but there was also a juxtaposition between the casino and the cool night just outside the doors that was quite unsettling.  the darkness of the outdoors was quiet, something of a luxury for someone whose business was everything but ––– and there wasn't much time to admire the serenity, not with the job he was currently seeking to fulfill, as there was a promise of quite the sum.

      his client had sent him with a vague sense of what he'd have to look for, and it wasn't that difficult a task when many of those that resided the game house that night were all vaguely similar to one another.  the strenuous part of it was actually raking through every closely-packed body of the establishment.  eyes scanned carefully, surveying the floor and the crowded corners for anyone who'd possibly match the description, flicking every now and again from the stiff and suspicious looking men (man), who looked all too out of place, to the sweaty gamblers who he was well-accustomed to.

      there was a moment of hesitation after the initial eye contact with the man he was certain was his mark, and then he was moving swiftly through the crowd to the other side of the room, hoping not to gain any unwanted attention, but most likely failing due to his lack of apology after bumping into several people in his sure steps.

      the sweat of strangers lingered on his jacket, which left a disgusting reminiscence of rush and impatience, but he paid it little mind as he slowed to attempt to fabricate a decent ploy to get this man's attention, and possible trust.  his thoughts brought him to a standstill, however, because he hadn't thought about it through prior, though that's how he worked best: improvisation.  it seemed that he'd paid the price for that then; he stood off to the side with furrowed brows, hoping for something spontaneous to bring him to his glory.