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Helena Bonham Carter and Rupert Everett Versace Party at Regine’s in Paris1995Helena Bonham Carter and Rupert Everett Versace Party at Regine’s in Paris1995

Helena Bonham Carter andRupert Everett 

Versace Party at Regine’s in Paris

1995


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myretrocloset: Shop the NEW ‘Peggy’ mini collection –>  https://myretrocloset.com/collections/pegmyretrocloset: Shop the NEW ‘Peggy’ mini collection –>  https://myretrocloset.com/collections/peg

myretrocloset:

Shop the NEW ‘Peggy’ mini collection –>  https://myretrocloset.com/collections/peggy

Handmade in the UK by My Retro Closet, Peggy is a playful pinup style, made from a sheer stretch polka dot mesh. The vintage inspired babydoll nightie features ultra bouncy wide ruffles on the hem, creating the ultimate swish-factor. The Peggy knickers offer a cheeky open back style, both styles are finished with satin ribbon ties. Launching in dreamy Lilac and fiery Red.

❤️❤️❤️


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poisonedsequin:

peter do spring 2022 rtw

branquinhalok: Boa boite That what we call “ bunda gostosa” I love her ass and she got s

branquinhalok:

Boa boite

That what we call “ bunda gostosa” I love her ass and she got sexy attributes. I would love to fuck you and bite that ass.


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lizardcookie:

on ao3

(22k, failed friends with benefts)

He’s not really sure how it happens. He’s not really sure what cruel twist of fate had them run into each other in Diagon Alley one evening, unplanned. He was just killing time, because Sirius is visiting his uncle and his parents are traveling. She was just killing time, because Petunia doesn’t speak to her and Severus wants her dead, in a manner of speaking, and Mary’s been traveling abroad as an early graduation gift from her parents.

James vaguely remembers his mother saying something about idle minds being a dangerous thing.

They were both just killing time. It wasn’t supposed to lead to this, to her letting him talk to her, to her letting him ask her for a drink. It wasn’t supposed to lead to this, his body pressed against hers, her hands tangled in his hair pulling him closer, closer, closer.

This isn’t how James Potter wanted to kiss Lily Evans for the first time. In daydreams and idle fantasies in times spent drawing out her initials on his parchment, he pictured her arms flung happily round his neck after a glorious victory on the itch or some homework assignment gone wonderfully astray. In fact, he’d been spending his idle summer time trying to map out just how he could convince her to do any one of those things, hyper aware of how precious little time they have together in school for her to even consider fancying him the same way he fancied her.

He didn’t picture Lily wandering alone, he never imagined the dullness that seemed to overcome her usually vivacious eyes, never fantasized about the way she looked at him straight on and asked, “Want to do something stupid?”

He, apparently, was something stupid.

So one moment they’re in the Leaky Cauldron and the next they’re stumbling into the alley way and she’s tearing at his shirt buttons and he’s learning that his hands like running through her hair much, much more than just rustling his own. Her hands are burning the skin across his shoulders, lightly scratching at his back while she’s being supported by her hips and the press of his body against hers into the brick wall. It is entirely, entirely too fast for him, but then Lily Evans moans into his mouth and he gets that same thrill he’s felt when flying a broom towards the ground again and again and again and can’t will himself to stop.

They do stop, though. Eventually. He isn’t losing anymore of his dignity crammed between two crates of bottles for the pub. James gets some amount of satisfaction from the fact that she’s as out of breath as he is, then even more satisfaction that in her glazed eyes, he can see life there for the first time all evening. 

He stares at her, completely unable to think, knowing that no thought could make any amount of sense of this. But all Lily Evans does is stare back at him, her bright eyes flickering across his face looking for something he doesn’t know how to give her. Her lips turn up in a friendly sort of way.

“Thanks,” is what she says, like all he did was help her with an essay. Then she untangled herself from him and was gone.

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kevin and archie, a dynamic duo i never knew i needed until today

a-silver-sun:


 Originally I was going to stick to 100-word drabbles for these prompts as I’m also working on another project, but obviously that didn’t work out very well. 



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nelsonsmurdock:AU: After helping Matt escape Midland Circle, Elektra returns battered and half dead nelsonsmurdock:AU: After helping Matt escape Midland Circle, Elektra returns battered and half dead nelsonsmurdock:AU: After helping Matt escape Midland Circle, Elektra returns battered and half dead nelsonsmurdock:AU: After helping Matt escape Midland Circle, Elektra returns battered and half dead

nelsonsmurdock:

AU:After helping Matt escape Midland Circle, Elektra returns battered and half dead to the few remaining members of The Hand lurking in Hell’s Kitchen. With the rest of their leaders dead or fleeing, she takes full control of the organisation and decides to turn her subjects into guardian angels, watching over Matt while he recovers at St. Agnes and as she festers in guilt in almost getting him killed.


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hathorik:

valkblue:

Lost and Found - Episode 8

“Tales of Clan Mudhorn” series

Word Count:27k
Pairing:None
Rating:General
Summary: POV Din+OC+The Child— When you reach Tython, Tython reaches you too…
Warnings:…more ✨Space Travel , angst, thriller style, hallucinations, childhood traumas…

A/N: This chapter takes right after the end of previous one, after the emergency exit of hyperspace. This chapter is more angsty than all the others but I hope you’ll like it too. Also, this chapter is the last of Part One. And I’m really hoping you’re enjoying the story so far. Part Two is in the work. (I already have a few illustrations ready for it, even! )

BONUS: I offer a drawing to those who guess who’s the guest ‘appearance’ in the last scene! (No joke, I’m really offering.)

— The Jedi Planet

Krrsssh-trshhhk !

The control panel of the cabin door, forcefully opened, spat a bunch of yellow and white sparks at Din’s visor, rivaling with the light from his helmet spot lamp. The power surge had damaged a few components that apparently were still receiving enough power from the auxiliary source to add to the challenge of opening the cabin door.

With a grunt, Din pried open the door by hand again. It creaked, like a balky dewback, but finally slid open a little, enough for Din to see that the whole ship had gone dark. Not that he expected otherwise…

“Ela!” He called again in his helmet’s comlink and through gritted teeth — it couldn’t be a good sign that she didn’t pick up. “Do you copy?! Anton!

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OMFG!!!!

Nooo. Don’t worry, Din. He’s fine. He’s strong as s t o n e.

like-rain-or-confetti:

Here it is, the last one and the one you’ve all been waiting for…

image
image

It was the dead of night.
You had no idea how you got to the moment of agreeing to meet Vladimir. Yet you were there.
You leaned against the brick wall of the tunnel. It was quite secluded, the cars on the other side of the same wall. It was only an advantage seeing that you were there at night. You were hidden from view from passers by. 

You noticed quickly you weren’t alone. A dark silhouette approaching you. However when it got closer, you became aware of who it was.
Vladimir didn’t even so much as blink as he approached but he did have a smirk. The one you had seen him smile the first time you met.
“Vladimir…” You trailed off softly, uncertain of what you’d have said.
He said nothing in return. 

By the time he was a few feet away from you, he was slowly closing the distance between you both. His hand reached up, stroking your cheek almost lovingly. He leaned in as though about to kiss you but moved his head to the side upon the last moment, brushing your nose his his own.
Lightly, he took your wrist into his hand before stepping back, creating a small amount of distance once more but tugging you to follow him.
You did. Unsure just what that decision would lead to. 

As you got to the forest line, Vladimir carried you. No longer moving at human pace.
He took you to an old looking mansion, setting you down gently. It was a miracle it was in such impeccable condition and you wondered how it hadn’t been damaged by vandalism or some other man made destruction. Didn’t time wash away everything?
Then again, your mind reminded you this was the Romanians, there would be no doubt it was privately owned. Any trespassers…well, for their sake should have hoped the two would never be home whilst they were there. 
“All of this for two people?” You said quietly and Vladimir smirked at you, a hum of amusement escaping his tight smile as he passed you to open the door. 

When you crossed the threshold you couldn’t help but look around in awe. Everything was framed with wood that looked more expensive than you could ever dream to afford, the floors and banisters of the stairs had been polished too. There were large paintings on the walls. They were definitely old, given the subjects.
One in particular caught your eye.

You moved closer and Vladimir only seemed to watch you. You peered closer. “This is really good.” You said quietly, tempted to touch it but holding yourself back.
“The Twelve Leaders of the Romanian coven.” Vladimir said fondly, breaking his gaze from you to the painting, standing by your side in moments.
“Weren’t you and Stefan two of them?” You asked.
“Yes. Do you know where we are?” Vladimir asked in amusement, seemingly already knowing your answer.
You focused hard. 

 "Is that you?“ You pointed to the first in the bottom row of four.
“No.” He smiled. “That would be Cyrus and I assure you, my hair has never looked like the end of a mop.”
Vladimir had a point, his hair was more platinum blonde whilst ‘Cyrus’ hair looked to be more of a dirty blonde.
“I don’t see anyone with your hair.” You smiled bashfully, leaning closer to the painting. “Wait, is that you? Middle row, second to the left?”
“Indeed it is.” Vladimir smiled.
“That’s cheating, your hair is covered by that hood! It’s not even the same style!” You exclaimed and he chuckled. “You’ve got one more.”
He was right. You still had Stefan to find. 

“Is that him?”
“Perhaps I should be offended that you found him so easily.” Vladimir smirked, leaning against the wall.
Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking…that was a complete guess! He looks nothing like himself now.”
“It’s just how paintings are darling, they always look a little different to the real thing. The art style.” He finished. “Although our hair is very different. I will give you that.”
 "This painting has to be at least a thousands years old…“ You began quietly. "How have you kept in such good condition after everything?" 

Vladimir smiled slightly, turning his full attention to you, the painting forgotten. His eyes ran over your face, lingering on your lips.
Gently, he reached out and lightly stroked your cheek. "There is no secret, darling. We take care of what’s important to us.” He said quietly, almost sweetly. A whole other side to Vladimir you hadn’t seen before.
“Might I take your coat?” He asked lightly with a small smile.
You shook yourself slightly out of your trance. Immediately moving to remove your jacket. He helped you, taking it from you assuring you he’d only be a moment. 

You looked over the rest of the paintings. There was no doubt, the Romanians had been around for a very long time. It made you wonder why Vladimir was so interested in you. You were nothing special. 

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larentslovechaos:

I REVERSED THE VIDEO

blueberry-macaron:

hella-marshmella:

Wedding officiant: Do you Marinette, take Adrien to be your husband?

Adrien::)


Marinette:

Marinette: I’m sorry…


Crowd:*Gasps*


Marinette: I can’t do this…


Adrien: W-what do you mean? Why?!


Luka: *bursts through the doors, running halfway up the aisle, out of breath, locks eyes with Marinette*

Marinette:*smiles*That’swhy.

I turned it into a comic :D

(Yes Felix is the wedding officiant bc why not)

!!!!!!!!!

AHHHHHHHH! ❤️

maplevogel: …..I must admit my favourite things to draw or paint to relax are things like this. (may

maplevogel:

…..I must admit my favourite things to draw or paint to relax are things like this. (maybe thats why i do so much) 

that day everything i had draw wasnt to my liking and i pretty much painted this as a way to test my shimmering paint (who sadly doesn’t show here because scanners….) and “reset” my brain.;u;

….next art will be more dynamic!

(still might add this one to the shop maybe…i just wish the shimmer would show…)

And I’m reblogging this one too even though it has nothing to do with me because I love it and I was blessed enough to watch her paint it!


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starfleetwitch:

Prompt: “Raw Sweaty Unadulterated Vigorous passion”

Once again I started with a drawing and now there’s a companion fanfiction out there about questionable lock placements within Holby City hospital.

Art work under the cut encase any of my followers open tumblr at work.

As always, please don’t share on other sites without permission or send it to the actors! 

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backjustforberena:

A flitting, fleeting idea that I have is Bernie expecting something from her grief over Cam. In the days after she waits, for the numbness to receed, for it to hit her. Makes it all the way to Spain and the only visceral reaction had been in those split seconds after her son had died, as that scream had torn her in half, wrenched itself from the pit of her stomach like Cam had, around 30 years ago.

She waits and expects anger. She knows the grief after losing a child. She’s seen in up close and destructive, when Elinor was taking from Serena. Whether it’s naive or shock or hope, she expects and anticipates acting in the same way. Bernie braces herself to rage against everything and everyone.

But she doesn’t. She does nothing out of the ordinary. Serena tiptoes around. Perhaps those first few weeks without Elinor are on her mind as well. The crushing weight of an absence that should never have happened.

Cam never leaves her mind, but she just can’t muster up much of anything and if she stops to think about it, to talk about it…

Bernie feels like she can BREATHE. When Cam died, horrifically, Bernie doesn’t feel that compressing ache that made Serena all twisted up and hateful. She feels like she can BREATHE. Cam was the last piece of the puzzle in setting herself free of Mogadishu. The person left to tell that had to be told. The person she couldn’t face, couldn’t live with hating her. The last thing holding her back and now…? Now there are no more secrets. No shadows or explanations or justifications to make on how she’s spent the past few years.

So Bernie breathes. Air fills her lungs. The weight leaves her shoulders. In and out. Until it’s too much. Till it leaves her so light headed that her eyes prick with tears and she can’t stop *breathing* because her son in gone and it’s awful and wrong and she shouldn’t feel like this and her head swims. Did she ever know her son? Did she allow him to know her? Is she saved? Did he save her?

And then Serena is by her side, reaching out, but she twists like wind and can’t stop breathing in and out, pushing Serena away as Serena tries to hold on. Her fingertips graze her elbow and Serena’s touch is the only tangible thing about her, the places where her fingers sweep the only part of her that feels real and solid… Bernie lets all the air in and out in sobs and whimpers now.

Bernie isn’t consumed. Bernie is weightless. And Bernie has always been one to rely on the certainty of gravity.

This is how my wife is in under control of her bull. If her bull orders her to strip naked and go outside she will do that too..

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