My everything.

  Right there he stands. Wearing his skinny black jeans, blue converse shoes and a t-shirt from his favourite band. So perfectly british. His pale, porcelaned shy hands, are fixing his squared vintage glasses. As he smiles, sublime wrinkles are formed on the edges of his fine, delicious lips. His hair… Oh, his hair… Dark, fluffy and messy spikes like flames burning up a forest. His eyes, a window to his soul. They’re a blue calm ocean. So delicate, so soft, so poetic. They sparkle like the sun over a tranquil lake.
  Dan Smith is an artist. A singer. My singer. He sings to me the most beautiful songs in the entire world, with his angel-like voice.
  Sometimes Dan gets pessimistic, modest, but what he can’t notice is that he shines brighter than a sky full of stars. 

anonymous asked:

Could you do a one-shot where the reader is the avengers next-door neighbor. So whenever one of the avengers gets annoyed with the others, or just wants to be around someone who isn't a superhero, they end up at her house. (Also, I went to the theater yesterday and my friend practically had to push me through the door because they had the freaky clown from poltergeist on one of those huge movie posters)

I can write that for you, it’s a really good idea.

And omg, I would have been in tears if I saw that holy fuck dude, I can’t even handle porcelane clowns (my mum use to have a bunch of them) cause they’d give me nightmare.

im drowning like an anchor
im to heavy to be pulled up. i started getting used to the heavy but empty feeling in my chest. breathing takes all my energy,laying in bed as the pain thickens. my bones ache and fall apart making me everyones play puppet. dangling my life on a string as i look like a worn out beaten porcelan doll. dancing with bones twisted and cracked, red lip stick as my lips tremble, eyes start to water . tears pour down my soft sick pale face,leaving marks of black from my mascara. sad eyes behind the smile stiched to her fake ass face. falling to the ground as they cut her string, screaming  for help
—  Ashley Ann Marie Bradford 

               A horn Pipe with porcelain Bowl depicting Ali Pasha (1740-1822)  

Europe, 19th Century of typical form, elongated shaft comprising two detachable sections made from horn, each carved with cylindrical and spherical parts, those in turn carved with diagonal and concentric lines, sections separated by light-coloured carved horn tulip heads, the porcelain bowl painted in polychrome with Ali Pasha and a lady with silver mounts

112 cm. long     Footnotes

  • Ali Pasha (1740-1822), otherwise known as the ‘Lion of Yannina’, was an Albanian ruler and Ottoman provincial governor. After attracting the attention of the Ottoman authorities for his support, he seized control of Ioannina in southern Albania/Epirus in 1788, and from then on ruled to some extent independently (for instance allying himself with Great Britain in 1807). His rule was famously brutal. Byron visited his court in 1809 and worked this into his poem Childe Harold. He was finally removed from power by the Ottomans in 1822. He was shot and killed and his head presented to the Sultan.

    The lady depicted on the bowl next to Ali Pasha is probably Frosini, a woman of noble birth, and known for her beauty, who was married to a prominent merchant of Ioannina. During her husband’s many absences she became the mistress of Ali Pasha’s eldest son, Muhtar. While Muhtar was absent on campaign, Ali Pasha himself made advances to Frosini. She refused to become his mistress and as a result was accused of adultery and drowned in the lake of Ioannina with sixteen other women accused of similar offences. Her body was washed up a few days later and was buried in a nearby monastery. Her tragic death went down in history and was the source of inspiration for many poems, songs and works of art.

    Saleroom notices

  • Please note that this lot should be marked with the Y symbol and is therefore subject to CITES regulations when being exported outside the EU.