preserve beauty

SO 

WE KNOW NOW THAT THE SKATING VIDEO WASN’T THE ONLY REASON WHY VIKTOR DECIDED TO BE YUURI’S COACH 

2

Spectacular “black” fluorite under white light and then back-lit to show its true color: the richest purple I’ve ever seen on fluorite! Most of the crystal is too dense to let light pass through giving it its seemingly black color.

*Rock fact* What is black fluorite?

There is no “true black” fluorite. Black is used to describe specimens that are super dark and appear to be black in normal lighting. The true color of these specimens are commonly purple and rarely blue and are only seen when back-lit. Please note that natural specimens that are dubbed “black” are VERY rare! The darkness is caused by exposure to radiation during the crystal’s growth. The radiation levels do not make these specimens unsafe to handle; just makes them look super cool! Like all colored fluorite, black specimens are vulnerable to sun-bleaching/fading. Keep them away from sunlight if you want to preserve their rare beauty!

Photography and set-up by Greg Nold

Fluorite specimen is mine

See more here!

2

listen i know there’s like a thousand and one posts with these screencaps but i just need a place to preserve the timeless, virtuous beauty of victor and yuuri’s respective smiles for each other while on the ice. the passion. the warmth. the liveliness. im so happy theyre in love. softly punch me in the arm bc i am #weak

6

Lady Shiera was the natural daughter of King Aegon IV by the ninth and last of his mistresses, Lady Serenei of Lys, the last daughter of an ancient but impoverished line of Valyrian nobility. “Sweet Serenei,” Aegon called her, but about his court she was considered cold and haughty, and some said that she was much older than the king, and preserved her beauty by the practice of dark arts. Considered by many the most lovely of Aegon’s mistresses, Sweet Serenei died in childbed, bringing forth the last of the king’s “Great Bastards,” the daughter she named Shiera, Star of the Sea.

(requested by anonymous)

anonymous asked:

Hi! I just found your blog and I am already in love can I please request 50? Pls have fun with it, I don't mind which HP pairing you do it with ;D My week hasn't been the best (*cough**cough* depression) So it would be great to read something so sweet and funny that it makes me squeal with happiness (as most of your writing already does) Have a great day!

This was co-written with the talented @pennigg101297 

Penni’s writing

My writing


50 - “I’m pregnant”

Draco wanted to murder someone.

Preferable Harry Potter.

(If only you could murder someone while still preserving their beauty. It would be a waste, after all, to not be able to look at Potter anymore, however much it hurt to do so.)

For Potter was stretching on the Quidditch pitch, legs spread, feet solidly planted on the ground and arms elongated over his head. The movement made his his t-shirt rise up, showing a glimpse of defined abs and trail of dark hair leading to… Draco snapped out of his daze the minute he realised that he was openly staring at Potter’s crotch.

Why must you be so gay, he chided himself, forcing himself to look away. To purposefully not pay attention to the way Harry’s bronze skin seemed to be shining, to not see how his muscles stretched tight and almost obscene.
Draco lasted about three seconds before snapping his head back.

Potter was now laying down on the ground, arms resting next to his torso… what in the hell was he doing? But then… oh. Potter lifted his butt, lowered it to the ground and repeated the movement. Again and again and again. Fuck, Potter was doing butt bridges. Draco wanted to face palm, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene.

The little control Draco had over himself until that point seemed to slip away.
Potter was humping into the air, and he was panting, sweating, his hair sticking to his forehead and, fuck, Draco shouldn’t find this hot, but he did, his blood rushing south so fast it was almost dizzying, his stomach so full of heat that it was almost as if he… 

“I’m pregnant,” he choked then, unable to hold it in, because he felt like he was, pregnant on his desire for Harry, Harry, Harry…

Wait.

Oh. 

Fuck. 

Draco had actually said that. Out loud. 

And the worst thing was… Potter had stopped moving. Potter had heard him.

Next time he came to spy on the Gryffindor practice, he was not going to seat on the first row of beaches. Hell to that, he wasn’t going to come watch the Gryffindor practice ever again. He wasn’t going to show up at lessons, either. He was going to run back to the manor, right at that second, be home schooled for for the rest of that eighth year, then work from home. There was no way he would ever show his face outside again, he was going to live as a hermit and - 

“What did you just say?” came Potter’s voice, interrupting his train of thought.

That brought Draco back to reality with a snap.

Potter had risen completely, looking at Draco with wide eyes shining beneath his glasses. “You’re pregnant?”

Draco opened his mouth. Closed it again.

For the first time in his life, he felt speechless in front of Potter. 

Potter raised an eyebrow at his silence, sighed, and then did the most improbable thing - he started walking towards him.

Fuck.

Potter inched closer and closer and closer, until he was standing dangerously near. “Potter, what are you… ” Draco started saying, but was swiftly cut off by Potter, who had bent down to kiss him.

For a second everything else disappeared, Draco’s world zoning down to this, to the soft sigh against his lips, to Potter’s body falling down against his.

Then he reacted, scooping Potter up in his arms to get more, he needed more -

Draco Malfoy wanted to murder someone.

At the moment, though, he was content like this, with Harry’s soft lips against his.

Preferably forever.

  • them: why are you so into dolls? what's the point?
  • me: listen Brenda some people's hobby is racist graffiti so at least I'm preserving something beautiful in this garbage fire world