I like how up close and personal, this image feels. I like how this imagine gives off a nostalgia of hot summer days as a kid having icy poles, but is now seen in a more sexual way because of subject matter just being a close up of the mouth.
Jack, now that you’re back in Ireland for the last show, I wanna take the time to say something while you’re there.
I can’t even begin to imagine all the nostalgia you’re feeling while being there. That’s your home, where you grew up, the only place you’ve ever known for a while…but, I hope being there has also made you realize how far you’ve come.
Not just in regards to YouTube, but also you as a person.
I want you to be happy, I want you to be proud of yourself, but also humble at the same time. There’s no shame in being proud of your growth and change as a person, embrace that shit, carry it with you. It’ll only push you to grow and try new things.
I’m, personally, in awe of your growth and change as a person, not just as a YouTuber, but a person. I know you’re the only one that can determine whether you’ve changed for the better, but in my point of view, you have changed for the better. And you wanna know why I think that? Because you keep pushing yourself to be a better version of yourself all the time. You keep trying new things. You’re curious about everything and wanna learn as much as you can. You’re open minded.
And I am so damn proud of you, Jack. I’m gonna support you until the very end dude, just because I love and believe in you. Keep it up. ❤
intertwined: silky sheets, vanilla candles, fire crackling, snowfall, hot cocoa, loose tresses of hair, dimmed lamps, sacks of letters, glowing lights, cozy pajamas, fluffy blankets, the feeling of being held
i have a hole in my tooth (and the dentist is shut): confetti, cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles, disco balls, roller rink lights, perfectly frosted cakes, sweet tea, untied shoelaces
absolutely smitten: clear skies, bright pastels, hiding behind books, spinning skirts, sunshine, love letters sealed with star stickers, sweaters with too-long sleeves, shared milkshakes
sick of loosing soulmates: blue and purplely sunsets, untied ribbons, matching tattoos, loosely held hands, playing piano in the dark, promise rings, pinky swears
when (live): locked diaries, sweet nostalgia, imagining, colorful calligraphy, oil paints, day break, birds flying overhead, post it note messages, soft lighting, new hope
Picolo is a 23 year old freelance illustrator and comic artist based in Brazil. His artwork rages from re-imagined cartoon and nostalgia pieces to the personification of greek mythological characters to original characters in comic series. His digital mediums include adobe photoshop and designseeds and kuler for color palettes. This particular piece takes the well-known characters from Teen Titans and re-imagines them as regular young adults hanging out on the last day of summer. The titans are not in their traditional hero outfits portrayed in the comics and tv series but in casual wear based on their individual personalities. This creates a feeling of nostalgia; almost like you are seeing your friends again after a long time apart.
I didn’t realize how much stuff I had written until someone asked me to make a master list. I’ll try to update it weekly (Master List Mondays?) and keep it alphabetized (Prefs will run oldest to newest.) Requests always open! P.S The list is rebloggable ;)
but imagine luke stepping onto the millenium falcon for the first time in so long.
imagine him finding himself at the edge of the island after rey gently asks if he wants to see it, staring up at the tattered ship that had once marked the beginning of his own journey. imagine nostalgia threatening to lock his knees and keep him from stepping forward at first.
imagine chewie being a welcome sight, drawing out a smile that falls instantly once luke realizes that he’d been half-expecting han to pop out of the compartments, wrench in hand. imagine rey staying quiet in the face of his resignation, watching patiently as he runs his hand over the hologame board.
“i never told him,” he would start, a little regretful and a whole lot scared, but rey’s look would say it all–she understands.
imagine later, when they’re back outside, she sits beside him and looks out at the ocean.
But honestly, could you imagine the nostalgia that Nimoy must’ve felt in the Reboot. Putting the ears on, the hair, the persona that he developed throughout most of his life. He was grown, it’d been a long time since his last Spock role, how magic and uplifting that had to have been. Not only for him, but for anyone there to witness it. It was either the easiest thing to resume himself or the hardest since he’s had to move on. But he did it marvolously-
want to trust you. You were my best friend at one point, believe me, I want to
trust you but I don’t know if I can. My pack they-” imagine with theo ???
Nostalgia is a funny thing. It’s just a feeling; it’s just a
word- a paradoxical word at that. On one hand it provides a certain kind of
contentment that arises at the thought of wonderful memories from the past, a
feeling that fills you with wistful warmth. But on the other hand, it can be a torturous
sensation reminding you that you may never experience the same things again,
that things have changed and they can never be the same.
There was a time when they were friends, best friends even. It
was a long time ago- ten years or so. They were just children who had no idea
what the real world was. They thought their parents could fix anything, the
good guys always won, monsters were ugly creatures that were distinct from the
average person, and above all, they thought they would always have each other.
But they were wrong. They were wrong about everything.
The metal door underneath a neon red sign spelling out ‘EXIT’
opens easily under her influence. It’s a cool night, the air crisp and breezy,
but not uncomfortably so. She finds a seat on the edge of the roof, letting the
still night ease what’s left of the adrenaline pumping throughout her body.
Waiting for Lydia to get out of surgery in the stuffy hospital was starting to
become too much for her, so she sought out refuge in the quietest part of the
hospital. Finding one of her closest friends bleeding out on the police station
floor after being attacked by a kanima-werewolf hybrid was a lot to come down
“So this is where you disappeared to,” a voice says from behind
her. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. The point of coming up
here was to be alone, but since he’s the one who essentially saved Lydia’s
life, she figures she should at least be courteous.
“Yeah, It’s a nice night. At least weather wise,” she says a bit
awkwardly, not looking at him when she speaks. Ever since he returned
unannounced she hasn’t been sure how to treat him. Sure he used to be her best
friend, but that was nearly a decade ago. She doesn’t know him at all now and
no matter how genuine he appears to be, something just isn’t right.
“It is. Are you doing okay?” he asks, taking a seat next to her,
their legs dangling over the edge of the building. It’s probably not the safest
position, but if she can survive a hybrid attack then something as mundane as
sitting on the roof shouldn’t be too dangerous. If she goes by falling off the
roof then that’s how she goes. At least the coroner wouldn’t find anything odd
like scales or a tail.
“I’m fine. I didn’t get stabbed or slashed or anything,” she
assures, stealing a glance at his profile. Bad idea. Even from the side his
face still relays an angelic appearance with a sharp jawline.
“I mean like mentally and emotionally. Physical wounds aren’t
the only ones that need to be stitched up sometimes,” Theo concludes.
“Oh, that’s thoughtful. Thank you for asking,” she says faintly,
unsure of how to act around him. Time changes everything. Especially with her
used to be best friend. She used to tell him everything and vice versa, but
that was when they were innocent elementary school buddies. Now he’s nearly
eighteen, looks as if God himself sculpted every inch of his perfect face and
body, and has a shady aura about him.
“That was formal,” he laughs, turning to face her directly. She
can feel his eyes on her, observant and calculative.
“I don’t know what to make of you,” she admits, looking him in
“You didn’t look all too thrilled to see me at the senior scribe
and you’ve been distant since then. You don’t trust me,” he murmurs
despondently. A vague look of sadness
flashes over his face. It’s hard to tell how real it is.
“I want to trust you. You were my best friend at one point,
believe me, I want to trust you but I don’t know if I can. My pack they-”
“Don’t. They don’t trust me,” he nods in understanding, getting
up off the ledge to walk around the roof.
She remembers when his sister died. They were seven years old and how no idea how
cruel life could be. She had been missing for a while and Theo tried to put on
brave face for his parents. He wore this smile on his face like a mask, hiding
how scared he really was. He would pace around the living room, a nervous habit
he developed for coping when he was upset or afraid. It was like he could walk
off the unpleasant feelings.
The day they found her he wouldn’t sit down. He walked around in
circles with silent tears streaming out of his glossy blue-green eyes.
Eventually she walked over to him and tugged on his arm to halt the motion.
Neither of them said anything as she led him to the couch. She hugged him and
they stayed like that, twined together on the couch for a very long time.
Watching him pace around the roof reminds her of that tragedy.
She can almost see the grief stricken seven year old. It makes her chest
tighten uncomfortably and her eyes sting in the subtlest way.
“Theo,” she calls, her voice stronger this time, “please come
He stops pacing and looks at her. He looks somber, but not
necessarily sad. It’s an odd
expression, one she’s never seen before. He’s resigned, but there’s something
in his eyes that almost looks mischievous. In this lighting it’s hard to tell.
“Are you reminiscing over there?” he inquires, aware of what she
must be thinking while she watches him pace.
“I guess I am,” she admits, patting the space next to her.
He rejoins her, overlooking the back lot of the hospital. From
this view all you can see are the extra ambulances that sit still, waiting for
an emergency to happen.
“Do you remember how much we used to love horror movies?” Theo
asks, searching her face.
“Those and every thriller we could get our hands on,” she grins,
remembering simpler times.
“That was a staple in our friendship,” he agrees, mirroring her
“Now my life is a horror movie,” she sighs woefully.
Her statement isn’t far from the truth. She lives in a world
full of monsters and murderous psychopaths. In a way, the movies she used to
watch as a child somewhat prepared her for how her life would turn out. Except
there’s one vital piece of truth the movies never displayed. In the fictitious
stories the villain is hideous and marred with imperfections. The villain looks
like a villain. They aren’t physically appealing- just look at Freddie Krueger.
This is a lie in the real world. The bad guy isn’t always a disfigured lunatic;
sometimes the bad guy looks like an angel and has a smooth tongue. Sometimes
the bad guy is charming and enticing.
“Look on the Brightside,” Theo notes, “You’ve been prepared for
all of this since you were a kid.”
“I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the
nogitsune, or a kanima-werewolf hybrid,” she tilts her head, squinting
“Alright, fair point,” he chuckles softly.
It almost feels like it used to. Almost. Maybe it’s because
they’re older and they’ve both gone through hell. Maybe it’s because they’re
nearly strangers. Maybe it’s because puberty hit them both like a train and the
tension is becoming obvious. Maybe it’s something she can’t quite place her
“Thanks for saving Lydia,” she says gratefully, “After
everything… We can’t lose her, too.”
“The ex best friend saving the new best friend,” he jokes,
lightening the situation.
“I honestly don’t know what to consider you anymore,” she
chuckles, pushing her hair back from her face.
He studies her carefully, looking exceptionally considerate.
“Can I try something?” he asks, his voice soft.
She nods ‘yes’, giving him the green light for whatever he’s
planning on doing.
It happens quickly and without hesitation. Her eyes close
immediately, her body shivering in surprise. She wasn’t necessarily expecting
him to kiss her, but she isn’t necessarily surprised that he did. He tastes
like a mix of nostalgia and mystery. His hands feel like old memories and an
unforeseeable future. He is a paradox of the familiar and the unknown.
She never expected his lips to be so gentle, or his touch to be
so soft. She never expected that her best friend would disappear and then
reappear only ten years later to rescue her pack and kiss her on the rooftop of
the hospital. She also would never expect that her best friend is a liar. She
doesn’t know that this is power play in a scheme that will ruin their lives.
She doesn’t know that he’s manipulative and cunning.
She doesn’t know that the devil can be beautiful. She doesn’t
know that the devil is her best friend.