Tumgik
#finger-curls
lamarchesacasati · 11 months
Photo
Tumblr media
2015 Tim Walker, Rebel Riders for Vogue Italia, December 2015.
Tim Walker's Gothic fairy tale fashion shoot for Italian Vogue recalls the eternally influential ghost of Marchesa Luisa Casati.
                                                               ----
Leaving lipstick to ride the lines of lunacy, red radiates in reckless defiance. The mouth melts in a wondrous state of madness as scarlet screams to be seen. Victorian millinery is worn in saddened solidarity, as grand hats grow with feathered plumes. Hairstylist, Julien d’Ys, construct finger-curls so authentic we get a true taste for a time gone by. 
Women weather the pain as haute head-gear is worn through the tyranny of tragedy. Muted gestures give the characters a unique strength, while each possesses a sense of loss – A soliloquy of sadness, a poignant love affair, a portrayal of passion fuels the fare aire. A duality of decadence dares to succumb to the beauty baring truth we’ve long to become, we wait for the day life spreads its light and takes us from the dark of night, for what will be is what will come as all is free from the mid-night sun. (x) 
16 notes · View notes
theostrophywife · 6 months
Text
le coup de foudre.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: regulus black x reader.
song inspiration: my love mine all mine by mitski.
author's note: this was a result of me binging dune and call me by your name. whoever fancasted timothee chalamet as regulus deserves a forehead kith cause look at him. he's so boyfriend coded it makes me sick.
Tumblr media
Regulus Black did not believe in love at first sight. 
It was a foolish notion. One that contradicted his pragmatic beliefs. At his core, Regulus was a realist. In his world, love was not a luxury one could afford. Regulus was raised with the expectation to marry according to class, wealth, and most importantly, blood status. The noble and most ancient house of Black only took the purest of the pure. 
After all, toujours pur, always pure, has been his family’s motto for centuries. There has never been any doubt in his mind that he’d marry another member of the sacred twenty eight. It wasn’t a matter of if, only a question of when. 
During his sixth year, his mother made her intentions very clear. Walburga Black was adamant that he begin his search for a suitable bride. Leave it to his mother to compose a list of ladies she deemed suitable to become the future Mrs. Black. Regulus was to adhere to the carefully curated roster. They were names that he’d seen a million times before. Greengrass, Prewett, Rosier. Girls he’d grown up with and inadvertently had absolutely no interest in. 
Still, his mother was insistent so Regulus complied. He took the girls out on dates. The formula was rather simple: dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town followed by a walk around the city square in which he offered to buy his date a dessert like the proper gentleman his mother raised him to be. Despite the fact that Regulus had the entire process down to a science, the dates were always unsatisfactory. 
He was polite, of course. Opened the door, pulled out their chair, asked the appropriate level of questions to get to know his counterpart, but by the time the appetizers arrived, Regulus was on the verge of stabbing himself with the butter knife just to rouse himself from boredom. 
Regulus placed no blame on the girls. They were only doing what their families had raised them to do. Sit pretty, chew gracefully, agree with his opinions. All while wearing breakneck heels and a smile to boot. It was all terribly fucked up, but this was the world they lived in. 
The more he went on these dates, the more he realized that he didn’t want some pretty, docile wife. What he truly needed was someone who was willing to challenge him, to call him out on his bullshit, to argue with him when his own stubbornness prevented him from seeing reason. Regulus came to the horrible, earth-shattering realization that he probably wouldn’t find a woman like that on his mother’s list. 
As he walked back from another mind numbing date, Regulus grappled with this newfound dilemma. He didn’t want to endure another one of these disastrous dates. He didn’t want to sit through an entire meal making small talk. He definitely didn’t want to disappoint another girl by not kissing them at the end of the night. 
It wasn’t like any of them liked him anyways. Though they loved the idea of Regulus Black, he was quite certain that they wouldn’t afford the same affections to Reggie—the real and true version of himself. The one that Sirius often said Regulus kept in a neatly locked cage.
He wished he could be more like his brother. Sirius had always been the brave one. It was that infamous Gryffindor boldness that prompted his older brother to rebel against his family’s expectations. Instead of heeding to their mother’s ridiculous list, Sirius chose to date Remus in open defiance to Walburga’s orders. It resulted in him getting kicked out of 12 Grimmauld Place and burned off the family portrait, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind one bit.  
In a lot of ways, Regulus envied his brother. Sirius had the guts to stand up for himself. He wasn’t burdened by the crippling pressure of pleasing their mother. In all honesty, Reggie wondered if such a thing was even achievable. As he brooded, Regulus found himself on the shores of the Black Lake. His body had taken him here on autopilot. It was his only place of refuge in the castle. 
Regulus paced the rickety wooden dock. His mind was working so fast, so many thoughts spinning in his head, that it felt like he might work himself up to a fit. This has always been his problem. Sirius often said that he lived in his head too much. He frowned, trying and failing to get ahold of himself. For once, he wished he could just shut his brain off entirely.
Just then, Regulus felt a drop of water hit his head. He looked up and found dark, gray clouds hovering over the horizon. The stormcloud broke open and unleashed torrential rain all around him. Fucking fantastic. The world truly couldn’t give him a bloody break, could it? 
With a sigh, Regulus began making his way back. The ground was sodden underneath his feet, his boots sinking into the sand and dragging behind his black coat. The waves lapped violently across the shore as the wind lashed against the murky waters. Regulus was almost at the edge of the beach when he spotted you. 
A flash of movement from the corner of his eye. Regulus stopped dead in his tracks. There, at the mouth of the Black Lake, in the middle of the pouring rain, stood a girl with the most breathtaking smile he had ever seen. 
Regulus was fairly certain that you had History of Magic together. He sat behind you in class, passed by you in the halls, even reached for the same book in the forbidden section of the library once, but Reggie had never once seen that smile. The gravity of it threatened to knock the very breath from his lungs. 
There was something carefree about you. The way you spread your arms, tilted your head back, and laughed in the midst of the rain and thunder. Almost like you were welcoming the storm. 
It was only when your eyes locked that Regulus realized he was staring. You cocked your head at him, trailing your gaze from the curls plastered against his cheek to the nice button down and freshly pressed trousers that were now soaked from the rain, down to the shiny leather boots that were now digging into the sand. You seemed amused at the sight of him.
Ever the perfect gentleman, Regulus snapped out of his daze and jogged over to you. Without hesitation, he raised his coat over your head to shield you from the rain even though you were already both drenched. 
“What are you doing out in the rain?” Regulus asked, his voice full of genuine concern. “You’ll catch a cold.” 
You stepped out of the refuge of his expensive looking coat and held your hand out, catching droplets in your palm. “I don’t mind. I just…I just needed to feel the rain on my skin, that’s all.”
You supposed it must’ve seemed strange to him, but the rain always made you feel better. Lately, life had been just a little too overwhelming. There was so much pressure to do well in classes, to hang out with friends while balancing your clubs and sports, as well as making time to write back to your parents. When it all became a bit too much, you tended to come to the Black Lake for some sort of refuge. The rain was just an added bonus. 
If Regulus found your behavior bizarre, he didn’t say. Instead, he just smiled softly. “Well, you got your wish. It’s soaked out here.” 
“I know,” you responded with an enthusiastic nod. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” 
“Standing out in the pouring rain? On a beach where lightning can strike me down at any second? Yes, it’s absolutely splendid.”
Your mouth quirked in amusement. “No one’s telling you to stay out here.” You nodded towards the castle. “You’re more than welcome to take your brooding inside where it’s warm and dry. Not to mention, free of the dangers of lightning strikes, which are extremely rare by the way.” 
“With my luck, I might be the poor one in a million git who gets torched while getting insulted by a pretty girl.” 
“Did I insult you?’ you quipped back. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You accused me of brooding.” 
“I didn’t accuse, I stated. Even the Wizengamot would have to rule that you were, in fact, brooding.” 
Regulus raised a brow. “What happened to innocent before proven guilty?” 
“Unfortunately, the evidence is overwhelming and the verdict is set. You, Regulus Black, have been sentenced for glaring at the Black Lake so menacingly that even the giant squid refuses to come to shore. Off to Azkaban you go.” 
“Do you promise to write me letters? Update me of how the world’s progressed without my dazzling presence?” 
“It would be my genuine pleasure.” 
Regulus chuckled at your dry humor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bantered like this with anyone, much less with a strange not-so-stranger. You sat down on the wet sand and patted the spot beside you with a grin.
“Why don’t you take a seat and tell me all about your troubles.” 
Beyond the bleak horizon, the spires of the castle peeked through the gray clouds. Regulus thought of the common room where his housemates would no doubt be gathered around the ornate fireplace for warmth. Knowing his friends, they’d probably be indulging in spiked hot chocolate and playing some childish drinking game. A few minutes ago, nothing appealed to him more, but now Regulus found himself choosing the violent rain and soggy sand. All because of you, his mystery girl.
You leaned back on your elbows and cocked your head at him. “What ails you, Mr. Black?” 
“That depends. How much do you bill per hour?” 
“Fortunately for you, I’m in a generous mood so I’ll throw in a free session. Consider it my pro-bono work.” 
“How kind of you,” Regulus said with a serious expression. “My brother’s been nagging me to see a mind healer for years. All that childhood trauma, you know.” 
A small smile tugged at your lips, revealing a set of dimples that he found rather charming. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.” 
“My brother is Sirius. I’m Regulus, remember?” 
You snorted in a very unladylike manner, which only made Regulus grin. There was something so unapologetically you in your laugh that was absolutely endearing to him. Regulus smiled and knocked his shoulder against yours. 
You mimicked the action and smiled back at him. “All sarcasm aside, I was being genuine. If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.” 
"Do you often offer therapy sessions to complete strangers?"
"Only to surly Slytherins with sad eyes and pretty curls," you quipped back. "And we're not strangers. I sit behind you in potions. We're practically best mates."
"You think my curls are pretty?"
"Like a little cherub's. Are you quite sure you haven't escaped from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? You look like one of Michelangelo's angels. Except with way more scowling." Regulus grinned. He got the feeling that you always said whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. It was refreshing. "There's a smile. See? Our session is already progressing."
"I think you might get more than you bargained for with me, I'm afraid."
You met the challenge in his words head on. "Try me."
“You were right. I’m definitely guilty of brooding.” 
“What happened?” 
Regulus hesitated for a moment. He had never been the type of person to be candid with his feelings, especially not with someone he barely knew. Usually, he just kept his thoughts to himself and ruminated on them in the privacy of his dorm until he drove himself mad by overthinking, but your presence brought him an unexplainable ease. For once in his life, Regulus chose not to question it. 
“I’ve had a long night,” he said, tucking his knees up to his chest. “I just got back from a date.” 
“It didn’t go well?” 
“It was…fine. It’s always fine. But it’s the same thing over and over again, just with a different girl.” 
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a playboy, Regulus Black.”
Regulus chuckled. “I’m not some unscrupulous rake, I assure you.” 
“Yes, that much is obvious from your use of the word unscrupulous.” You tucked your legs underneath you. “So why go on all of these dates if you find them so tedious?” 
“It’s my mother,” Regulus explained. “She has this list.” 
“A list?” 
“Yes, a list of girls that I’m to court. Noble, pureblooded, proper ladies of society that my mother has deemed worthy of marriage.” 
“You’re seventeen years old. Shouldn’t you be worrying about quidditch games and potions exams?” 
Regulus nodded. “Yes, one would think. But my family has always been different. Since my brother left, my parents have been obsessed with grooming me into becoming the perfect heir.” 
“How do you feel about that?” 
He sighed. “Stifled. Exhausted. Smothered. I can feel the weight of their expectations weighing me down every second of every day.” 
“I’m sorry, Regulus. That’s a terrible burden to carry.” 
Regulus shrugged. “Others have it worse.” 
“It doesn’t mean that your problem is any less heavy.” 
To Regulus, the acknowledgement felt oddly validating. Even though you knew nothing of his circumstance, there was wisdom in your words and you delivered it delicately, like you actually cared to hear his troubles. You were devoid of the judgment he'd grown accustomed to and he found that rather freeing.
“It’s just…sometimes I think that I’ll never be the perfect son. My brother, he’s always been the brave one. Classic Gryffindor,” he said with an eye roll. You chuckled, but stayed silent. It was obvious that Regulus had a myriad of thoughts to unpack tonight and you were more than happy to just listen. “Sirius has never cared what anyone thought about him, least of all our parents. I admire that about him, but I just don’t think I’m wired that way. I care too much.” 
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” you said softly. “Apathy is so common nowadays, finding someone who can admit that they care is refreshing. Though, I think it’s not without limits. You can’t please everyone. No matter what you do, someone is going to have something to complain about. You might as well be yourself.” 
“That’s exactly the problem,” Regulus pondered. “All of these girls on my mother's list, I think they like the idea of Regulus Black, but he’s an illusion. It isn’t the real me.” 
“Then who is the real you?” 
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’m just Reggie. I like playing quidditch and reading depressing literature and memorizing obscure history facts. I hate messy rooms and orange juice and anything that crawls.”  
You smiled. “And what kind of girl does Reggie like?” 
“Someone witty. Someone funny. Someone who’ll argue with me. Someone who doesn’t just nod and agree with everything I say."
"So what you're saying is that you don't want a nice girl?"
Regulus shook his head. "No, I think I need someone who challenges me. Who sees me for who I am rather than what I represent. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the girls on my mother’s list are lovely, but I don’t think they’d actually like me if they knew who I really am.” 
“I don’t know, Reggie seems like a great guy. That Regulus bloke, on the other hand…” you scrunched your nose in disapproval. 
“Hey!” Regulus chided, “I’m pouring my heart out to you. That took a lot of courage, you know.” 
“You’re very brave, Reggie,” you said with a grin. “But you know what would be even braver?” 
Regulus squinted in the rain as you stood to your feet. Lightning crackled over the horizon, illuminating you with an ethereal silver glow. You held out your hand to him. “Come dance with me.” 
“Deathly afraid of being struck by lightning, remember?” 
“Sorry, what?” You asked as you shimmied around him. It wasn’t graceful by any means. It was the goofiest thing he’d ever seen and yet he’d never been so enthralled. You danced without a care in the world and it made him genuinely laugh. “I can’t hear you over all the fun I’m having.” 
"This is ridiculous," he said over the roaring thunder.
You shrugged. "Perhaps. But everyone's allowed to be a little ridiculous sometimes. Besides, I was asking Reggie not Regulus."
“Are you really trying to peer pressure me into dancing with you?” 
“That depends,” you replied with a cheeky smile. “Is it working?” 
Regulus conceded with a sigh and leapt to his feet. The youngest Black brother bowed like a proper gentleman. “May I have this dance, my lady?"
“You may, good sir.” 
You grinned up at him as he took you by the waist and waltzed with you across the sand. Surprisingly, Regulus let you take the lead. He chuckled when you stepped on his toes and laughed even harder when you tried to twirl him. Towering a good foot over you, Regulus had to fully crouch for the maneuver to work. 
Finally, you gave up the formality and just spun around in dizzying circles. There was absolutely no rhyme or rhythm to it. Just two idiots dancing in the rain with the biggest smiles on their faces. 
Your coordination, or lack thereof, caused you to almost faceplant into the sand. Regulus yelped as you took him down with you. By the time you recovered from the laughing fit, the two of you were red-faced, out of breath, and laying side by side along the shore. He turned over to you and brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 
“That was the most fun I’ve had in years.” 
“See? There’s more to life than just being moody and melancholic.” 
“So this mystery girl of mine keeps reminding me,” Regulus said with a smile. “You never told me your name, by the way.” 
“Wow, you don’t even know my name? I’m offended, Reggie. We’ve only been in classes together since fifth year.” 
“I—we’ve never been introduced—” 
You broke out into a smile and giggled. You thought it was cute that Reggie was so easily flustered. “I’m just kidding, Reggie.” 
He sighed in relief as you stuck out your hand. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.” 
Regulus slipped his hand into yours. He cocked his head, studying your eyes and your smile and those cute little dimples. 
Y/N. The last name on his mother’s list. The one he saved for last because he didn’t know who she was. 
The French had a saying—le coup de foudre. The infamous phrase translated to a bolt of lightning or love at first sight. Regulus had long dismissed it as flowery prose, but thanks to his mystery girl, he started to think that maybe the Parisians were onto something because meeting you tonight felt preordained. A date with fate. Like a bolt of lightning streaking through his dark, endless skies.
“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” 
You grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Reggie.” 
Regulus smiled and laced your fingers together. He was frozen, it was raining, and he was fairly certain that you were both probably going to catch a cold, but he didn’t care. In that moment, as he stared up at the sky, blinking back the rain, and intertwining his fingers with yours, Regulus had never felt more content. 
So no, Regulus did not believe in love at first sight, but love at second, third, and even fourth glance? He smiled a little as he gazed back at you, letting his gaze linger as he drank in that infectious laugh and sunny grin. 
You made him think that maybe, just maybe, a girl like you could convert a skeptic like him into a devout believer.
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
aeteut · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
moony, padfoot, wormtail, and prongs.
By likeafunerall, and reposted with permission.
4K notes · View notes
kaurwreck · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I think it's cute that Chuuya only chokes Dazai by digging his fingers into Dazai's carotid arteries, since that's generally considered "safer" (insofar as any strangulation can be safe) than applying pressure to the trachea, which risks crushing it.
(In 55 Minutes, Atsushi similarly chokes someone via their carotid arteries to knock them unconscious without damaging their throat— so we can assume it's intentional here too. Asagiri clearly knows the difference.)
947 notes · View notes
mizgnomer · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Behind the Scenes shots from Good Omens Season Two Crowley and Aziraphale in Edinburgh
925 notes · View notes
zeltqz · 7 months
Text
imagine gojo playing with his blindfold as you ride him and lifts it just high enough for an eye to peek out and to see your form and he’ll readjust you on his dick for a better angle
1K notes · View notes
aeirithgainsborough · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"Ready? Everybody's waiting."
FINAL FANTASY VII REBIRTH (2024) dev. Square Enix
235 notes · View notes
rapidhighway · 4 months
Text
i need a pen grip that works similar to this is this possible to achieve does anyone use something like that
Tumblr media
247 notes · View notes
becca-e-barnes · 5 months
Note
I miss ur lee Bodecker posts
So do I, let's fix that 🤤
Tumblr media
As much as I love writing my filthiest thoughts for Lee, today I'm imagining the way he'd want to introduce you to sensations that you didn't know existed. He knows you're a sweet, innocent little thing and you probably don't know what your own body is capable of so he's beyond keen to show you.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. It'll feel so nice in a second." As much as you trust your husband, you can't help but feel a little uncomfortable being watched like this. It feels like he sees everything.
His pointer finger traces along your bare, slippery sex. The tip of his finger presses to your entrance, just testing how quickly your body accepts him before gliding his finger the whole way into you.
"That's it, good girl." He hums, watching your face as he pulls his finger back and presses it into you once more.
His movements are so slow and gentle; he doesn't need to rush. It's more important that he gets to explore your body and you get to explore your pleasure.
"You're doin' so well for me. So proud of you." He kisses the inside of your thighs, watching his finger slip into you once again before he lines another finger up beside the first, pressing them both into you on the next stroke.
Oh, that feels different. It's a fullness and a weight that doesn't feel uncomfortable but it'll take a little while to get used to.
"Now, sweetheart. Gonna try somethin' for you." Lee's mouth is watering, listening to the slick sounds he can coax from you with his fingers, knowing that he'll replace he fingers with his cock when he's confident you're ready.
"Lee, please." You gasp, trying to resist fucking yourself down onto his fingers. You feel pathetic like this. It's a need you didn't think you'd be capable of but all your discomfort and hesitation melts away. It can't be wrong to need him. You're married to him, after all.
You hardly understand what he's doing to you when the next sensation registers. It's a disorientating pleasure that makes your velvety walls and clench, your body desperate to keep his fingers working their magic inside you.
"Good girl, you like that? You like the way I curl my fingers in this pretty little pussy?" You barely hear Lee over your own frantic gasps but you can't find it in yourself to stifle them.
"That's nice, isn't it baby? It's okay, I've got you. Just enjoy it." He's so damn smug but he's allowed to be. You didn't know you could feel like this, and all because of two thick fingers rubbing a little sweet spot inside you.
"So fuckin' wet. Gonna feel like Heaven when I bury my dick inside you." He's so vulgar but for once, it's not off-putting. It's exciting to know this feeling won't stop. Watching him stroke his hard, throbbing cock while he plays with you only makes you imagine how it'll feel to have the tip of his dick rubbing you there instead.
210 notes · View notes
mcmuppet · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
the lando forehead curl means THE WORLD to me
203 notes · View notes
lamarchesacasati · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
2015 Tim Walker, Rebel Riders for Vogue Italia, December 2015.
Tim Walker's Gothic fairy tale fashion shoot for Italian Vogue recalls the eternally influential ghost of Marchesa Luisa Casati.
                                                               ----
Leaving lipstick to ride the lines of lunacy, red radiates in reckless defiance. The mouth melts in a wondrous state of madness as scarlet screams to be seen. Victorian millinery is worn in saddened solidarity, as grand hats grow with feathered plumes. Hairstylist, Julien d’Ys, construct finger-curls so authentic we get a true taste for a time gone by. 
Women weather the pain as haute head-gear is worn through the tyranny of tragedy. Muted gestures give the characters a unique strength, while each possesses a sense of loss – A soliloquy of sadness, a poignant love affair, a portrayal of passion fuels the fare aire. A duality of decadence dares to succumb to the beauty baring truth we’ve long to become, we wait for the day life spreads its light and takes us from the dark of night, for what will be is what will come as all is free from the mid-night sun. (x) 
5 notes · View notes
eastgaysian · 1 month
Text
steam family sharing beta is huge news for gay people with five or fewer close friends some of whom spend too much money on video games
96 notes · View notes
louisplumpyass · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
NO WONDER LOUIS CALLED HIM CURLY PLEASE LOOK AT THEM CURLS, OUR CURLY, LOUIS' CURLY BOY... WHY AM I ON THE FLOOR CRYING? WHY!
953 notes · View notes
cecoeur · 23 days
Text
Tumblr media
The poutiest boy!
📸 - Peter Fox
141 notes · View notes
howdyricciardo · 29 days
Text
me trying to focus on the video but this is what i see:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
126 notes · View notes
ride-a-dromedary · 4 months
Text
If the implication in the old journal entry is accurate, and Halsin ended up having to be the one to destroy the shade of his former First Druid that he trained/was taught under, do you think he had time to mourn him? Do you think he fell to his knees in the rubble, feeling the shadows press heavy around him, catatonic, as the weight of realization finally started to hit him? Were any of them reflected back at him when he peered into the dull, sparking energy left behind? Did he let himself cry? Scream? Did he carefully stone his expression and nod tightly in approval, like neatly tying a package, since what he eliminated wasn't him - what was left was so twisted beyond recognition, such a dark reflection of the man he had come to see as second family, that it was better destroyed?
Or did he have to run? Did he shove his grief deep down in the place where it always goes to make room for his survival instinct to bring him into the sun again? Did he have to unceremoniously abandon what was left of him because there was still a chance there may be others - a hope made in vain that the ones they had to leave behind were still out there - praying as he went that he had found peace, that Silvanus recognized his face, before the curse took what was left?
121 notes · View notes