#hope this is ok lmk if i should change anything!

[kathonyy]

KATE SHARMA and ELOISE BRIDGERTON in BRIDGERTON SEASON 2

[ourpretender]

— coffee shop. @woozyhere

oliver is an expert at coasting, unnoticed. he never means to (and hardly enjoys it) but the benefits of such a skill rare their bitter heads on occasion, and in this one, it is a lingering eye full. opposing oliver in this social structure, is stuart; towering in height and talkative to an occasional fault. he makes it look easy, sidles through circles like there is a spot in every conversation, minted and made for him. and he leaves each fulfilled, checkmarked, stamped with flying colours. still it isn't jealousy that drowns oliver, but interest. he doesn't consider himself a lost cause just yet — only that the calculations, the plans that will knit them together (forceful or otherwise) — have yet to be set in motion. another day's patience, another week's research. oliver needles in long enough to forget his place, and his peering eyes come up, noticed.

[shevaults]

a rad storm churns outside and nora is restless. they'd been waylaid by it on the way to a settlement that had requested help, and luckily, nora had stumbled upon a small bunker on her travels in this area in the past. they'd ushered inside, dogmeat sniffing the floor as he went on ahead of them ... but waiting out the storm was proving harder than she'd thought. the vault-dweller grumbles under her breath, kicking over a tin can in frustration. " how long left is there to wait? " she demands, flexing her fingers into fists before she throws herself down in on the aged sofa opposite hancock. it's her first time experiencing a rad-storm and it's the first time she's stopped since setting foot out of vault 111; the hunt for shaun is always on her mind, and only when it gets too much does she deal with whatever problem the minutemen need dealing with. now, with nothing to do except exist in the space they currently occupy, she hates it.

the gleam of the wedding ring on her finger catches in the light as she sits back and folds her vault-suit garbed arms, her blue eyes meeting hancock's. " i might just go out there, " she lies—and she probably would, if it wouldn't endanger dogmeat. / @victorycola

[infernal-lightning]

💅 from my own reblog ♡

//bc they rlly need to interact ❤️ hope ydm!

This was quite possibly the strangest thing she had ever agreed to do. Photographing all sorts of morbid scenes? Fine. Killing for her art? Dandy.

But having Angel Dust paint her nails in his room like they were at some sort of childish sleepover? The kind she had grown up hearing about but never participated in?

Very. Strange.

Still - she had an event coming up, had offhandedly mentioned needing to look her best, listed off getting her nails done as one of many errands to run over the next few days...And next she knew the porn star was dragging her upstairs.

"Had I known you were this enthusiastic about the whole thing, darling, I'd have asked you sooner," the feline sinner lied with an easy smile. In truth, doing things like this alone suited her best - doing most things alone was preferable. But making nice at the Hotel would ensure her place here for longer... so she begrudgingly played along.

Not that she'd ever let that show, of course - no, right now her face was one of picturesque relaxation, watching Angel as he meticulously worked on each nail.

"You're rather decent at this, you know," she observed casually, carefully crossing one leg to not jostle her hand nor his efforts. "Something you do often?"

[abysscs]

CLOSED TO: H. GRACE. ( @shctsfired ) 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄.    9 years into the apocalypse and reuven has been trailing a stranger for the entire past day after she unknowingly entered his "territory". he is looking to catch her when she's off-guard and loot what she has.

     𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄, high, amongst the trees. It is melody of crow and sparrow, and they both call out into the evening for sustenance. Reuven's call is much quieter. Silent. And it is of boots crunching ever so slightly upon fallen leaves and rustled foliage where he pressed through, following, at a distance, after the stranger.

     It did not seem to him that she'd realized she'd crossed into his self-proclaimed territory. After all, his warning signal of strung up bodies on tree branches, shredded flesh dangling, well... that wasn't always as much of a get out sign as he might have liked it to be. Yet, still, Reuven was not a forgiving man. Not anymore. And crossing over into his space had held with it the sentence of which he should have applied some years ago, when he still had his children alongside him: death. Get too close, and he would not hesitate. Others' lives, to him, had dwindled in their worth. Down to nothing. Down to peace of mind, even. Yes, he would and had killed people, just to have the peace of mind that they would not attack him in the night.

     So far he had strayed from the man he once was. Where was that kind and patient father? Emotionally sound and firm yet loving? Whoever that was, Reuven today was just an echo of him. Some snuffed out and blurred version of him. Reuven had lost himself to the dead, and he wasn't sure there was a coming back, after the things he'd seen. The things he'd done.

     So there she was—this other survivor, and unlucky for her, she'd crossed over his invisible line, and earned herself a tail. He'd been following her for the better part of the afternoon—just far off enough that he could hide quickly when she glanced behind her shoulder. For the first few miles, she hadn't noticed him, and then he could see it, in her stature: she knew she was being followed. That didn't stop him. He would take any opportunity to amass more supplies for himself. Wherever she was headed, he was going too.

     In his arms, he cradled a black, military-grade carbine. Didn't have many bullets left, but all he really needed was one. It was as the dead came upon her that he stopped, to observe how she fought, and find some weakness he could use later. Did she stumble over her steps? Did she have an injured limb? Anything. He stared, from behind the rifle's raised barrel, deadpan, ready to shoot should the dead notice him amongst the brush. Or should she.

[10ccs]

@recovened

sam has two glasses of red in hand. it wouldn’t surprise most people to discover him double-fisting two glasses of red wine at the afterparty of an awards ceremony, but they weren’t both for him. 

he spotted taylor from across the room in the middle of doing shots with his bandmates. the heathens took home an award for best original song and he was prepared to spend the rest of the night celebrating with them when his eyes landed on her and, as usual, couldn’t bear to look away.

“fancy meeting you here, doll.” he sidles up to her with a languid smile on his face, looking her up and down before finally meeting her eyes and offering out the glass of wine. he’s shameless, as always. “want a drink?”

[inkymonsters]

@simplyhuntleys asked: "You're lucky you can draw...I do shitty job at drawing. I'm lucky enough that I'm able to draw a freakin' stick man!" (For Henry - Unprompted)

A SOFT CHUCKLE escaped the man’s lips as he looked up from his drawing, meeting Huntley’s gaze. “Well, I appreciate that. But honestly, it just takes practice.” Henry had always considered himself to be an AVERAGE artist — up until college, where he’d found his passion in cartoons. He was more confident now, though he still didn’t like to brag about it.

But compliments were always appreciated, so Henry smiled warmly. “I think I’ve seen you around the music department a time or two. Are you a musician? Or am I misremembering? Sorry, there’s A LOT of new faces around here lately.”

[dualitytransformation]

@monmuses asked: (random lines of dialogue prompts) "i'm fascinated by what happened in your fourteen minutes of absence." lizzie to jekyll

THERE WASN’T EVEN AN EXCUSE this time; Jekyll knew that. He’d never been good with being ON TIME; it was one of the many things that threatened to jeopardize his reputation. Before the experiment, he’d actually been trying to WORK ON IT, to work on keeping track of time so he could LEAVE on time. Unfortunately, that practice had quickly come to a halt after… everything.

“I’M TERRIBLY SORRY,” he apologized, quickly lowering his gaze as he entered the room. God, it was humiliating to be late. He despised having everyone else’s eyes on him. He couldn’t help being ANNOYED at Lizzie for bringing more attention to it, but he supposed it was only fair, so he just sat down next to her, then turned his full attention to the presenter — IGNORING the voice in his head that was mocking him for being late to ‘such an important nerd presentation.’

[fantasywritten]

@monmuses ❤️ (for Muriel)

THERE WAS NOTHING HE COULD DO. Jekyll had tried as hard as he could to fight Hyde, to stop the beast from taking control, to END IT once and for all. But it was hopeless. The ingredients he so desperately needed were an ocean away, and by the time they came, half the population of London would likely be wiped out. The only solace Jekyll had was those fleeting moments of control, those moments where Hyde would temporarily relent — and even those moments would END FAR TOO QUICKLY.

Perhaps Jekyll shouldn’t have been wasting his time on something as desperate as prayer, but at this point, he had nothing else to lose. Clasping his hands together, he fell to his knees, ignoring the TAUNTING VOICE inside his head that laughed at him for such a seemingly fruitless effort. “God… you must help me CARRY ON. Please…” His eyes closed, and he felt a rush of emotions threatening to spill out. But Jekyll held them back, instead opting to beg for something more. “Send me a solution… SOMETHING that will help, please… I cannot let anyone else die. I am desperate, God, SO DESPERATE…”

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer alone in the room. Eyes widening, Jekyll scrambled backwards, at first in surprise, then in FEAR. “Who are you?” He hadn’t heard anyone come in. “How did you… how did you get in here? WHO LET YOU IN?”

[planet4546b]

image id: 8 digital paintings i have made in 2022, all featuring my original characters or characters from destiny 2. the art is characterized by bright colors and intense lighting, and most of the characters are seen from the waist or shoulders up, facing the camera. at the center is a photo of a white person standing on an overlook looking over a river and smiling, facing slightly away from the camera.

art vs artist 2022!!!! a year of going Oh my god i need to get silly with colors

[deathmaiidens]

@enjoytheglow

"Wow, this place looks swank! Or should that be swell? I dunno the difference yet." Lily laughed self-consciously.

"Your guess is as good as mine, dear." Victoria gave her daughter a pat on the shoulder and exchanged a look with her husband, both as confused by all this Americana as ever.

Still, ever since their rambunctious Lily had been born, they'd been thrust into all manner of adventures. Victoria couldn't say she didn't enjoy it sometimes. After all, there was a bit of an adventuress in her heart, too, despite her very prim-and-proper upbringing and demeanor.

She stepped further into the Five and Dime, one delicate hand clutching her exuberant daughter's and one assuringly clutching Victor's. The sounds of jazz music soothed his nerves a little for their familiarity. While the young father normally preferred classical, it was nice to know there were places above ground full of the same energy and life as the Ball & Socket Lounge.

Something else that was familiar caught Lily's attention. "They're playing 'All The Cats Join In'!"

"All the what -- Lily!"

The child let go of her parents' hands with a little giggle, dashing around the dancing teenagers and leaping right up to the counter. She spun herself around in her chair a couple of times before looking at the menu. As she decided on just what she'd get to satisfy her sweet tooth (and of course, waited for her befuddled parents to catch up to her), she sang along to the music, tapping her fingers on the countertop and swinging her legs.

"What have we told you about running off, young lady?" Victoria scolded her daughter gently as she finally came around, a dizzied Victor in tow.

"It wasn't that far away!" Lily insisted laughingly.

"Just when did you say your friend was meeting us here?" Victor had been scanning the sea of young faces for the neighbor woman he'd heard so much about.

"Shouldn't be too long now - Oh! There she is! MAE, OVER HERE!"

[ofherbalisms]

closed starter to @slavghters ! location: the farm

  CALLOUSED FINGERS GRIP tightly to box, filled to near overflow with gourds and pumpkins. So frivolous the tradition of pumpkin carving seems now to him, with the demand of caloric intakes needing to be filled. A gourd makes a hearty soup. A pumpkin—creamy curries and savory desserts. That's not even considering the seeds, some to be roasted for high-protein snacking, and others to continue the cycle of life and death in the bodies of their population. He fervently protests the concept of a pumpkin carve. The idea makes his abdomen knot up; anxiety, blooming and wretched, for if they are not ahead then they risk famine knocking on their gates—a bailiff to revoke their lives at last; a reaper to beckon them to the other side. Nevermind his lack of Halloween traditions—his objection now is purely from a numbers standpoint.

  No. Reuven feels personally responsible for keeping food in the mouths of all their population now. Even if they have plenty of seeds and are meticulous in their farming and he and Astoria work like a well oiled machine together; even if the greenhouse is fragrant and the farm is flourishing and there is no forseeable shortage in grains, vegetables, meat or herbs, he still holds this worry that it will all go up in smoke one day and they need to be ahead. Always ahead. He thinks of the families, whose children survived the horrors outside, and imagines them going hungry. He remembers how desperate, how devastating, how hopeless it had felt to hear the words I'm hungry from his own child and have been able to do nothing about it. His hope is that not even one parent will have to hear the same from their kin behind these gates. It feels viscerally wrong to gather up gourds and pass them out with no absolutes that once they're done being carved, that they'll make onto a stove. It has kept his expression soured all afternoon, rather than its usual stoic.

  Though it is an autumn raging with cooled winds and crisped leaves, a sweat has developed upon his forehead and chest. He'd spent the morning tending to the herbs, the afternoon planting and now harvesting in the farm, and then would go up on the watch tower to keep himself occupied, because being in his solitude in that dorm room functioned only to fester woes. He's calling Astoria's name, to alert her to a localized infestation of aphids on the tomatoes—if they handle it now they'll be able to save the fruit. He's going to suggest ladybugs, but as he takes his concentration on the farmer, he notices a pile of dirt too late. His footing skips, balance fails, and he, and the twenty-something gourds go tumbling through resting leaves and stems. He's caught his fall, but not quickly enough to avoid being covered in dirt, and it surprises him. Not just because it was unexpected but because it is so unusual for him—he is normally pervasively observant of his surroundings. He doesn't speak it, but he internalizes the fall as a dwindling of his skills; as a rusting of his gears; as complacency, dangerous and unavoidable. His joints ache with their aging now, especially with the fall, and he tries to ignore what that means for the projection of his self sufficiency in the coming decades. Arm shovels the small gourds back into the box and he gives Astoria a thankful smile when she joins to help. "Really hope the kale survived," he mumbles and then nods back towards the tomatoes. "There's aphids throwing a party over there. Just a couple vines, but they're eating good. Think I saw a hornworm too... What do you think about ladybugs? If we can find them, and keep them off the greens somehow."

[venalier]

THE SWALLOW’S TALENTS.

now, where was she? step, step, turn. block. step, step, turn. thrust. slash up. anticipate the false weak point; twist, grab. twist, and— no, no, dragons, she couldn’t keep this up! it didn’t take seeing herself in a mirror to know this maneuver couldn’t be any good either. with a sound of frustration, she steps back, propping the practice sword in her hand against a nearby column to adjust her hairtie in consternation, staring at the dusty floor some paces ahead as though it was to blame for her lack of progress.

where was she going wrong?

caeldori seldom struggled with a class assignment. on the contrary, she often jumped at the chance for new challenges. this one hadn’t necessarily been different, though she had been surprised by the avenue the instructor had taken. dance and swordsmanship? they might as well have asked her to find a way to cook something suitable using garlic and sugar.

and try as she might, she can’t get these steps to feel like anything more but another training regimen she’d written up for herself. she can dance ( passably enough ); she knows rhythm and the basic tenets of music; it’s not as though she has no sense for these things. but getting it to mix with martial technique was impossible. a practical skill meant for battle, and a skill meant to be enjoyed during peacetime, inherently expressive — each one had their place and importance, but separate.

scrubbing a hand down her face, she opts to take a break and rethink it again, dropping onto a nearby bench and uncapping her waterskin, elbows resting on her thighs. fortunately, this early in the morning before the sun has even completely lit up the sky, these training halls are otherwise empty, and no one else has to bear witness to her repeated failings. but the respite won’t last too much longer, and she’d like to have something to show for initial demonstrations in class later today, something preferably finished — even if the instructor had emphasized that having nothing was fine and that class would also be spent working on it.

contemplative gaze drifts back to the wooden sword where it leans on stone, pointer finger idly tapping an imaginary rhythm against the waterskin. maybe if she added more expression to the turns? step, step, pivot...

   ♡   //   @seraphiia

[sugarpapillon]

@outrageous-spectacle​  ❧ 003.   a picket-fenced home in the suburbs . - for Lily and Mae to meet for the first time

𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think anyone was home.” 

Lily had been leaning over the fence a little too closely, admiring the array of different plants and flowers (some of which she’d never even seen before). The lady stepping out of the quaint little house the garden belonged to broke her reverie, but made her all the more curious. “Is it yours?”

[lcriedlastnight]

Ok so I got a request pls 🙏 🥹

Maybe Oscar's or Max Fs sister and Lando with the prompt "I'm your lockscreen?" - "you weren't supposed to see that"

I hope that's enough if not I can come up with a longer one

no this is so prefect! i love this so much!

tw: fem!reader, swear, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 933

max was a great brother. he was a little protective but overall he was the best. he had gone round all of his friends, every time he made a new one, telling them you were strictly off limits.

of course this also applied to lando, too. no matter how rich they were, or how famous or how pretty they were. yeah, you maybe had fallen victim to lando norris' charm. you had no idea what it was because he literally had no game, what so ever. you just thought he was cute, it made you feel like a teenager with a crush on your brother's best friend. half of it being true.

you had been looking forward to max's birthday celebrations, not to celebrate his birthday. no but to see his pretty, curly-haired best friend. you had not been this excited in a while. it was a little embarrassing but you just played it off like you were excited to be with your brother. maybe you were a little excited to see him too, you had not actually seen him in a while as he was almost just as bad as lando with being all around the world all the time. you were jealous, you always wanted to travel.

you arrive at max's house just after lando does. you two are the only guests that have arrived so far. seeing as max had asked you both to come a little earlier to help him prepare that did not surprise you. you do not even bother knocking, instead you just walk inside and announce aloud that you were here. you hear a muffled shout from the other room- well two muffled shouts to be exact, alerting you that both boys were in the kitchen. lando's laugh could be heard from a mile away.

max greets you as soon as he notices your presence while lando just stands in place, grinning like a fool. you do not understand him sometimes but you smile back at him anyways, never one to be impolite.

"hi. what exactly do you need help with, max?" you asked, setting your things on the counter so you could help him with the getting ready prospect of the party.

an hour later and you wished you had never bothered responding to your brothers desperate text messages last night, pleading you to come help him set up. both boys had ended up slacking so you had put mostly everything together. max complained "why should i have to set up? it's my birthday." but lando was quick to humble him, "you're the one who decided to throw a last minute party in your own house."

after a lot of of complaining from both boys, they eventually did end up pulling their weight and once all the balloons and banners were set up to max's liking he gave both you and lando the go ahead to begin getting ready. unfortunately because you knew you were getting ready at max's you had to haul a heavy bag full of your makeup and outfit options for the night in a tote bag. on the bright side though, lando offered to carry it up stairs for you and you got to see the way his muscles bulged as he strained to carry the bag.

for some reason lando had refused to leave your side as you got ready, claiming it was relaxing to watch you get ready. how you did not know this boy was down bad for you was unbelievable. he literally offered to let you play music on his phone while yours charged on the opposite side of the room. he watched on with a pretty smile as you scroll through his liked songs on spotify, trying to find the one that sets the mood of how you were currently feeling getting ready.

lando makes small talk as he lays on the guest bed behind you, just catching up with you really, as you follow the steps in your makeup routine. the song catches you off guard but you physically recoil as it plays. "i fucking hate this song!" you exclaim, the pre-game drinks settling in a little. you tap lando's phone screen to change the song when you catch a glimpse at his phone screen. it was a glimpse because it faded to black before you could really study it. you did not need more than a glimpse to recognise your face staring back at you.

"i'm your lock screen?" you ask lando. you turn to face him on the bed, you can see the panic in his eyes as your words register in his mind.

"what?" he laughs lunging for his phone like that would do anything. the damage was done now. you had seen the picture. there was no going back. "that's not- uh."

you smirk as lando tries and fails to dig himself out this.

"you weren't supposed to see that." lando blushes a little. it is the first time you have ever seen lando blush. you suppress the urge to grab your own phone and snap a picture of him, all pink cheeked and starry eyed. maybe you would make it your lock screen.

"it's fine. it's cute. now i want you as my lock screen." you smile at him desperately wanting to calm his nerves. lando just grins at you.

you had then made it that night's mission to take the cutest picture of lando to set as your own lock screen. you succeeded but not without a mouthful from max on what the fuck you thought you were doing.

[ladylumisce]

With a pause, she looks down, eyeing Lux. “You’re blushing.” Her tone is unreadable—Is it wonder? Smugness? A mere observation? Whatever it is, she doesn’t move away and keeps her arm on the wall.

“B..Blushing? Me?” wow that would only make the Crownguard blush even more, putting a hand over her cheek as if to hide as much as she could. Lux rarely found herself speechless be here she was, a loss for words and completely flustered in front of the other.

“Must be erm... the weather.... Yeah! Yeah! Sorry... it’s just so hot out here.. That explains the sweat too? Don’t you agree?” she stammered, eager to change the  conversation’s topic.