First Hit Post

Histoires drôles et drôles de gens [1983] directed by. Jean-Pierre Dikongue-Pipa

Like you don’t even smell good

If you wear strong fragrances in public I hate you ♥️

My favourite thing is seeing them carrying their bro on it who’s hugging them from the back as they ride through town like ok cuties

My least favorite kind of man child is an electric scooter one. They are getting bigger and bigger and the guys the scooter are getting bigger and fatter like …ew

I don’t even care

fairies, drawn in 2019

Norman Lindsay (1879–1969) - Where Life Ascends, 1924

etching

Omg white point has been my enemy on screens

Whenever I see something cool I just hope it’s not ai

۶ৎ GOTHIC CANDYCORE: THE DRACULAURA SCRIPTING & MANIFESTATION PACK ˙⋆.˚

for @littlemissshifter <3

(person who asked me to tag them: @sug4rgal)

꒰๑✩꒱ A study in contrasts—rose and onyx, delicacy and defiance. The world around you moves, but you are both within and beyond it, existing in a space entirely your own.

꒰๑✩꒱ Your footsteps are light yet deliberate, each one a quiet declaration. No need for grand gestures or excess; elegance is most striking when it is effortless.

꒰๑✩꒱ Every ribbon, every lace-trimmed hem, every careful flourish is a whisper of intention. Beauty, to you, is neither an obligation nor a performance but an instinct, a language only the observant can hope to understand.

꒰๑✩꒱ Your voice is measured, never hurried. It lingers in the air, each word chosen with the precision of someone who knows that language is both an adornment and a weapon.

꒰๑✩꒱ There is something of another era about you—not in mimicry, but in spirit. The romance of candlelit evenings, the hush of velvet-draped salons, the quiet rebellion of a letter sealed with wax. These are not things you merely appreciate; they are things you carry with you, unknowingly, inevitably.

꒰๑✩꒱ To observe you is to wonder, to second-guess, to feel as though one is on the edge of understanding but never quite grasping. It is a mystery that is not meant to be solved, only admired from a respectful distance.

꒰๑✩꒱ The night is yours, not in conquest but in quiet possession. In the way moonlight finds its place against deep hues, in the way shadows stretch and shift, as though making room for you.

꒰๑✩꒱ You do not chase, nor do you retreat. You exist precisely where you intend to be, and that is enough to turn heads, to draw curiosity, to leave behind an impression as delicate and indelible as a pressed flower between the pages of a book.

꒰๑✩꒱ You are the lingering scent of roses at dusk, the hush of silk against skin, the feeling of déjà vu in a place one has never been. A presence both ethereal and undeniable, like the last note of a song that refuses to fade.

꒰๑✩꒱ There is an art to your silence, a weight to your glances. You do not offer explanations, nor do you seek them. Mystery is not a veil you wear—it is woven into you, like threads of gold laced through midnight fabric.

꒰๑✩꒱ Softness does not make you fragile, nor does beauty make you tame. There is a quiet power in the way you carry yourself, a strength that needs no declaration. A velvet glove over an iron will, a whispered word more commanding than a shout.

꒰๑✩꒱ Your elegance is not learned but instinctual, as if you stepped out of a portrait painted centuries ago, untouched by time yet perfectly at home in the present. The past clings to you, not in weight, but in recognition.

꒰๑✩꒱ The world moves too fast, too loud, too desperate to be seen—yet you remain unhurried, untouched by the rush. Like a secret waiting to be discovered, but only by those who know where to look.

꒰๑✩꒱ You are a story that unfolds slowly, never all at once. A locked diary with pages scented of ink and nostalgia. Some may try to decipher you, but only those with patience, with reverence, may be allowed a glimpse beyond the cover.

꒰๑✩꒱ Your presence is not a storm, nor is it sunlight—it is the space in between. The dusky glow before twilight fully settles, the moment when the air still hums with the echoes of a dream not yet forgotten.