wire rim

I saw Drarry at the Airport.

The other day I was flying out to visit my family, and when I was in line to board the plane I noticed this couple standing behind me bickering.
One of them whispered, “do you think they would let us on early for priority boarding if we tell them we’re gay? Because I’m super gay for you.”
And the other guy was trying to shush him as if he was afraid they’d be outed or something, which is funny because when I turned around to glance at them they were holding hands.
Not only were they holding hands, but one of them was a tall, dark-haired brunette wearing wire-rimmed glasses. The other was skinny and blond, and was wearing a long black button up jacket with a scarf that clearly was only meant for a fashion statement.
What I’m trying to say here is guys, I think I met Drarry at the airport, and I think it’s a sign.
I don’t know what kind of sign, but… you know what I mean.

Hogwarts House Aesthetics

Gryffindor: Chimney smoke mixing with the clouds as a storm begins to brew. A roaring fireplace on a cold January night. Inkblots on a crumpled sheet of paper. Autumn leaves dancing around each other as they fall to the ground. Plaid blankets. The song the wind sings when no one is listening. Loosely braided hair. A handful of copper coins. Skinned knees and untied shoelaces. The crease between eyebrows as lips pucker to blow out a candle. Laughter at six in the morning. Hands moving so fast that they look like fluttering birds. Broken tree branches. Songs sung off-key, out of tune, and together.

Ravenclaw: Rain pounding on the windows when everyone is asleep. A closed book on a dusty desk. Feathers. An emptied water glass, alone on the table. Wire-rimmed glasses. The leather bound cover of an overused journal. Handwriting so quick and swirled that it can hardly be counted as legible. The draft of air from an open window. Unnamed constellations. A cat with its claws stuck in the curtains. Perfectly buttoned shirts. Nights spent without sleep. A chessboard where the first player has yet to make a move. Lips pursed in thought. Bottle caps hidden in a box beneath a bed. A pen without ink. The feeling of falling asleep.

Hufflepuff: A flower unfurling its petals to greet the dawn. Freckles dotting blushing cheeks. Soup beginning to boil. Dust drifting through a lonely ray of sunlight. Tapping fingers that speed with every minute. Friends calling to each other from down the hall. Boots with broken zippers. A sunset just before it turns blue. A single bumblebee. A pair of socks with the toes worn away. The smell of something baking two rooms away. Birds singing an hour too early. The reflection of a face in a spoon. Birds flying in vee formation. Pinkies linked together. Eyes widened in realization. The call of a trumpet into an empty room. Hands stained with flour. The lingering of breath after a question. An owl carrying a letter. Papercuts. A face caught in standstill as it shifts from confusion to a smile.

Slytherin: Staying up too late and waking up too early. A river as it emerges from hibernation. Silver coins. Coats with three shiny buttons that swirl around the ankles. The moon on a cloudless night. Confessions spilled into the open air. Ivy creeping up the side of an old building. Falling into a familiar pair of arms. Blankets tangled helplessly. Bells. Footprints in freshly-fallen snow. Sentences without punctuation. A slightly breathless voice. A dream that doesn’t make sense but doesn’t seem entirely fictional. Hoarse whispers. Unused parchment. The flicker of a lightbulb on a windy day. Yawning. Overgrown grass in a forgotten field. Ears stained pink from embarrassment and cold weather. A handwritten letter sealed with wax. Boiling water. Standing off to the side and watching the world go by.

Other Aesthetics: The Marauders / Lily Evans / Jily and Wolfstar

Some thoughts on Cullen

I’ve been thinking too much about Cullen this morning and given how many people love him I doubt these are at all new, but y’all

Cullen Rutherford:

  • is a book nerd who probably has bad vision by the time he’s forty from spending too many nights reading by candlelight. That means glasses for all your modern aus. Oh, yes. Plain black frames or wire rims. Nothing remotely chic, something serviceable because they’re just a tool, not a fashion statement. But dammit, he looks sexy anyway, especially in the morning when his curls are tumbling over his forehead and he’s got that sleepy-eyed blink bringing the world into focus.
  • is a sneaky bastard. He’s clever, he’s crafty, and he’s a damn fine general of what starts out as an incredibly underfunded, undermanned military. Yes, he would rather level the mountain, but he’s fully of capable to finding ways around it. He’s been managing people for a long time, maybe not all successfully (*cough*Meredith*cough*), but he didn’t get to where he was by bludgeoning everything with his not inconsiderable will. He got that way with patience, with choosing his battles, and with subtle manipulations that you should watch for.
  • is self-aware. He spent too long not being, and now he’s constantly thinking about who he is, who he was, and striving to be more than both. This can take him to the edge of despair, because he does not shy away from the wrongs he has done or, worse, allowed to be done by his own willful negligence. He knows that he can never make amends for what happened, but he also knows that to do nothing is to say that none of it mattered. Cullen knows that if he’s going to fight for recovery, then he to surround himself with people who will kick his ass when he needs it (*cough*Cassandra*cough*), and that he needs constant opportunities for the amends he knows he can never make.
  • is a man of faith. This makes him complicated. It makes loving him messy, and his experiences test that faith in the Chantry and his Maker. But Cullen will always pray. He will always find himself in the hard press of stone beneath his knees, in the quiet that threatens with too much honesty, in the very terror of his own insignificance. Not even Kinloch could take that from him.
  • is an absolute dork. He gets flustered over pranks, but he’ll get you back eventually Sera. He stammers over pretty girls,  but will still kiss them senseless. And, Maker’s breath, the man is quick with a dick joke. Even if he doesn’t admit them all out loud, I can promise you he has a running commentary in that clever, snarky brain of his and most of it is that’s what she said. *dorky laugh*
  • is a warrior.  He may be running the army from Skyhold, but his job is not bloodless. His skills are not merely theoretical. He asks less of his men and women than he demands of himself (which is good, I don’t think many have the man’s stamina. Seriously, two days, an hour of sleep in the Arbor Wilds…)

what i love about Gallagher Girls is that every single person is a badass but also so ridiculously human in ways we can only imagine

Rachel has government agents across the world at her disposal but she’s 100000% the trusts-her-kid-but-is-still-chronically-worried, buys her another shirt from Nordstroms because “I thought you’d like it, sweetie!” always worries and says “call me the second you get there” kind of mom

Abby once interrogated a man at knifepoint and made him cry but she’s totally lactose intolerant or something, let’s be real, some kind of weaksauce weakness that puts her in the bathroom on the toilet for half an hour if she eats dairy by mistake

Joe has a collection of knives to rival a Cutco factory and has a specific spy and non-spy related use for all of them but he abso-fricken-lutely has to start wearing glasses to read and such not long after he turns 50, and they’re wire-rimmed glasses and he wears them with a really ratty robe

Edward can kill someone with a playing card in the middle of a busy casino without anyone knowing it was him–and he’s done it several times–but there’s nothing he likes more than wearing warm comfortable cable-knit sweater and reading The Fellowship of the Ring for the hundredth time because his lowkey dweeby ass has it memorized 

23 Attractive Men Who Aren’t White

 Buzzfeed’s post made me mad so I made a proper list with lazy captions

1. Bob Morley - you can see him as Bellamy Blake on CW’s The 100 he’s everything (he has like no photoshoots so I used a gif)

2. Oscar Isaac - you probably know him as Poe Dameron (the best damn pilot in the resistance) by now. You can also see him in Ex Machina, A Most Violent Year, Inside Llewyn Davis, etc.

3. Daniel Wu - if you think he’s fine now you should see what he can do with a sword in AMC’s Into the Badlands.

4. Idris Elba - Ok everyone knows Idris. (Luther, Pacific Rim, The Wire. Thor..)

5. Jussie Smollett - Jamal “my favorite” Lyon in Empire

6. Trai Byers - Andre “my second favorite” Lyon in Empire

7. John Boyega - FINNamon roll in Star Wars and an actual precious angel in real life

8. Pedro Pascal - you can see everyone’s favorite Chileno as Oberyn Martell in season 3 of Game of Thrones and as Javier in Narcos on Netflix

9. Rami Malek - USA’s Mr. Robot

10. Yon Gonzalez - Julio Olmedo in Gran Hotel and El Internado on Netflix

11. MecHad Brooks - Supergirl, True Blood and Desperate Housewives

12. Jesse Williams - arguably the most beautiful surgeon in Grey’s Anatomy and more importantly a wonderful black rights activist

13. David Ramsey - John Diggle in CW’s Arrow enough said 

14. Elliot Knight - He played Merlin in Once Upon A Time and y’all he’s GORGEOUS this photo doesn’t do him justice I swear

15. Keiynan Lonsdale - He was in the Divergent series but you can now see him as WALLY WEST in CW’s The Flash

16. Ricky Whittle - Lincoln from The 100 and he’s shirtless a lot so yea you should seriously watch that show just sayin

17. Carlos Vela - Mexican football player for Spanish club Real Sociedad, good job Mexico

18. James Rodriguez - Colombian player for Spanish club Real Madrid. I tried really hard not to use shirtless pics but I… couldn’t… resist. 

19. Thiago Alcantara - He makes poor choices regarding football teams but at least he has a nice face 

20. Alfred Enoch - Everyone knows him from the Harry Potter movies and How to Get Away with Murder (If you don’t like Wes you’re wrong)

21. Marcelo Vieira - the most important Brazilian in all the land and he’s literally made of sunshine (also plays for Real Madrid are you sensing a bias here) 

22. Phillippe Coutinho - Another very important Brazilian made of sunshine who plays for Liverpool FC. 

23. Steven Yeun - Glenn from the Walking Dead. If you don’t think he deserves to be on here, you can fight me. 

I’m probably eventually going to make this list longer but here are your 23 attractive men of color. Hope you enjoyed.

Prince Yuuri can’t see anything without his glasses. It normally isn’t an issue, but when Yuuri goes to the royal ball without them he can’t see the man who captures his attention that night and can only remember him by his voice. Determined to find the ‘mystery man’, Yuuri goes through the entire town in hopes of finding the one who won his affections. But what happens when said mystery man turns out to be a beautiful guy named Victor, and why is he acting like they met before last night?

(A Cinderella AU)

Written for Day 7 of the Yuri on Ice Week 2017 challenge and inspired by this post on Tumblr.

[AO3 link]

Prince Yuuri’s eyesight has always been, for lack of a better word, shit.

Really, without his glasses everything turns into a blur of colors and lines, even if said object is right in front of him. He went approximately five years of his life not being able to see anything concrete until his tutor caught on and slapped a pair of thick, wire rimmed atrocities on his face, and only then did he see things clearly for the first time in his life.

It’s normally a non issue. He goes about his day as normal, the only indication that the glasses are even there coming from him pushing the bridge up every so often. It’s almost as if he can forget that he needs help to see. The frames are big enough that he can almost get by without noticing the thin border around everything he views, and even though they are probably the thickest glasses a twenty-four year old has ever worn, nobody dares taunt the crowned prince.

So Yuuri’s sight may be the like a blind bat’s, but at least it’s never caused him any problems.

At least, that used to be true. But after the ball last night, after him, his bad eyesight is the reason he’s screwed beyond belief.

“Are you really going to go looking for your mystery man?” Mari complains, breaking him out of his reverie.

Yuuri shakes his head back and forth while he laces up his shoes then turns a glare on his sister. “Of course I am.”

“And how are you going to find him, huh?” she challenges. “What are you going off of? A blob of grey hair and a Russian accent? News flash, Yuuri, there’s a lot of guys who fit that description.”

He finishes making work of his boots and gets up from the couch he’s perched on. Mari’s leaning against his doorframe, hip cocked out to one side while she balances an unlit cigarette between her teeth. If he was in a better mood he’d chastise her smoking, but her lack of support isn’t exactly rubbing him the right way.

“You don’t need to come if you’re going to complain the entire time,” he snarks back. Yuuri grabs his best coat from the closet and puts it on without preamble. “I can take Yuko instead.”

Mari takes the cigarette out of her mouth and glances at it once before tossing it in the nearest trash can. “No, I’ll come with you. But tell me one thing. Why this guy? Why go through all this effort over someone who’s face you didn’t even see right?”

Yuuri quiets and grabs the lapels of his jacket. It’s a valid question. By all intents and purposes, he’s being ridiculous. He danced with what felt like hundreds of people at the ball last night, blur after blur passing him by due to him not wanting to wear his cumbersome glasses to such a high profile event. He could barely even see a general outline of the men and women he waltzed with, only remembering certain colors or conversations.

But there was one who stood out beyond the rest. A man whose face Yuuri couldn’t see, but whose voice was like a melody, soft and accented and warm. He approached Yuuri after getting paired up with the Duke of Switzerland, a promiscuous man named Christophe known for his inappropriate and lewd behavior at balls. He was whispering in Yuuri’s ear about his latest sexual conquest when he came forward, asking to could butt in and have one dance with the crowned prince.

Christophe graciously handed Yuuri over with a bid farewell, pleasantries falling off both their lips before Yuuri turned back towards the new suitor in front of him. He couldn’t see anything really, just the sharpness of the man’s cheekbones and a hazy halo of platinum hair that could pass for silver. But his eyes. Oh, his eyes were clear as day, bright baby blues bursting through the blurriness.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting with Duke Christophe,” the man murmured in a low voice.

Yuuri remembered smiling back as the man’s hands landed on his shoulders, a soft violin wailing in the background as they began to fall into a familiar waltz.

“Don’t be. We were just finishing up,” he responded back, ever the diplomat at these events. “May I ask for your name?”

The man laughed a little and leaned in close, minty breath brushing against Yuuri’s lips. “If it’s okay with you, Yuuri, I’d like to keep my name a secret. I’m a man of mystery, you see, and I’m returning to St. Petersburg in the morning. We only have tonight, so let’s enjoy it while it lasts, hm?”

He’ll never forget the man calling him Yuuri. Not ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Prince Yuuri,’ but just Yuuri, as if they were old friends reconnecting after years apart. It made his cheek blush red as they fell into easy sways across the dance floor, murmuring in one another’s ear until they were both breaking out in fits of laughter over something the other person said. One dance turned into two, then two into three. Hands gripped tighter as they both realized the night would be over soon and they’d part ways, never to see the other again. Conversations became deeper, frivolous talk about their mutual love of dogs fading into discussions of fears for the future. Yuuri admitted he was worried about taking the throne one day, if he’d be a good king, while the man implied he was scared of never finding his lost love, if he was forever destined to ache with lovesickness.

They danced, talked, touched for the whole night, until the castle clocks chimed at midnight and the man broke away from Yuuri’s grasp.

“Wait!” Yuuri cried out, fingers catching on the man’s shirt sleeve.

The man turned back and through the blurriness, Yuuri made out a tiny smile.

“Goodbye, my prince,” he whispered, then leaned in without another word and left the faintest of kisses on Yuuri’s mouth before escaping through a door and out of sight.

“Yuuri? Yuuri!”

He practically jumps out of his skin at Mari’s insistent knocking against his arm.

“What?” he snaps back.

She sighs. “You never answered my question, dummy. What is it about this guy?”

Yuuri just pulls the lapels of his jacket closer around his body and sighs. “I can’t explain it. I was up all night thinking about him, Mari. I…I can’t get him out of my head and I just need to do this. You understand, right?”

Mari appraises him for a few seconds then sighs in return. “Y’know, this all could’ve been avoided if you just listened to me and wore your glasses, but yeah, I understand. Let’s go find your boyfriend.”

He glares at her back as she walks out of the room but doesn’t comment, instead focusing on the one though that goes through his mind like a mantra as they prepare for a long journey ahead.

I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I do.

Keep reading


“Animals doing human activities are so adorable,” the witch said to her friend.

“I found this adorable Tumblr that features that.”

“Oh, no I meant…”

Hopping in from the other room, a black rabbit wearing wire-rim glasses cleared its tiny throat, “Sarah I think I have found a way to safely increase your retirement portfolio by 2% a year, but it will require us to tighten our belts for six months. Oh hello Janine, didn’t hear the door. How is Mister Sprinkles?”

“I love you.”

“Honey, that’s so cliché.”
You mutter those words as I tuck your hair
behind the ears that never fail to listen.

What else am I to say?
As you are cradled in my arms,
sprawled out along the couch you insisted upon buying
when we first decided on our apartment
because it was the one part of home
you couldn’t stand to have to live without.

What else am I to say?
As your hand encradles my own,
running my thumb across the golden symbol
of my never-ending adoration for you.

What else am I to say?
As the empty, unused room across the closet
is planned to be painted next Wednesday
with pastel gradients and white decorations
for the new baby girl
waiting for us at the orphanage.

What else am I to say?
As the photograph above the mantle
displays the last visit to our favorite boardwalk,
the brilliant manifestation of technicolor sparks
flashing intensely on an auburn sunset,
but with the combination
of your floppy, thick-rimmed summer hat,
y/our retro wire-rimmed sunglasses,
and your smile that continues to still today
put every star in the sky to shame -
everything could only dim in comparison.

What else am I to say?
As the bookmark kept on my nightstand
never lets me forget our first encounter
at the tiny café down a couple blocks from us,
with a huge caramel-scented blotch of coffee
and blue-ink scribbled number
to match perfectly.

What else am I to say?
As the obnoxiously bright-colored bobble-head
of that comic book character you like so much
continues to adorn the kitchen counter,
no matter how many times I’ve asked you
to put it somewhere else
since it doesn’t match the rest of the apartment.

What else am I to say?
As the heavy-knit winter coat on the coathanger
that I brought back on a trip from my parents’
continues to wear down
since you insist upon using it as often as possible
because no matter the weather,
it almost always feels like winter outside for you.

What else am I to say?
As I lean down
to press a tender kiss on your left temple,
my hands coming up to cup both of your cheeks,
nuzzling into the scent of your coconut shampoo
that you only ever buy by name - never off-brand.

What else am I to say,
when words can never truly express
every emotion washing over me?

“…yeah, I know.”

I like the usual “pale bookish aziraphale and tan crowley” thing but consider this

ebony-skinned Aziraphale with corkscrew curls of golden hair ringing his head a little like a halo but mostly like a chrysanthemum. fathomless black eyes with just a tiny hint of raven-feather blue. still with wire-rimmed glasses. still a potato. 
pale Crowley. not unhealthily pale. the slightly shiny pale of a leucistic python. still slicked-back Too Cool jet black hair. still with yellow eyes. still a disaster.

concept: drarry being each other for halloween (after harry had to lengthily explain the concept of the holiday to draco)

draco wearing circular, wire-rim glasses and painting a lightning bolt on his forehead, purposely messing up his hair and making snarky comments like: 

“rah rah, I’m Harry Potter, here I come voldy-voldy!”
“ooh, look at me, with my broomstick, and my scar.”

harry gelling his hair up, standing straight, and always looking disgusted with everyone, saying things like:

“have you heard about my blood? yeah. it’s pure.”
“mmm, potions sure do turn me on.”

and at the end of it all, draco is snuggled up to harry asking a thousand questions while they watch the nightmare before christmas.

lily was warm hugs and long, fluffy sweaters.

james was disheveled hair and round, wire rimmed spectacles.

sirius was the smell of smoke and brownies straight out of the oven.

remus was mussed up hair and long, comfortable silences.

peter was tea with custard creams and the sun from amidst the clouds.

BTS as Aesthetics

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Jin: A bouquet of pink roses, gourmet meals with fine wine, fuzzy socks, jumping in puddles, sprinkles on cupcakes, denim jackets, bike rides through the city, charm bracelets.

RapMon: Deep talks at 3am, exotic tropical fish, abandoned castles, vines climbing up the sides of a house, lightening that tears across the night sky, ripped jeans, baseball caps, wire rimmed glasses.

Suga: Striped sweaters, high top sneakers, sleeping in, searching the night sky for constellations, chocolate with mint, a candle lit bath, listening to your favorite song on repeat, watching waves crash on the shore.

J-Hope: Pulsing lights in clubs, flying at night, birds chasing each other from tree to tree, costume parties, the smell of brewing coffee, chokers, the color of the sky at dusk, back hugs.

Taehyung: The Rainbow that comes after it rains, homemade ice cream, buying candy late at night, singing in the shower, sleepy morning voices, making snow angels, loose t shirts.

Jimin: Tickle fights, picnics in the park, wishing on dandelions, switching clothes with your friends, pouty lips, singing karaoke, colored eye contacts, butterfly kisses.

Jungkook: Laying in a meadow, playing video games all night, jumping on the bed, making silly faces at your friends, suggestive eyes, licking the frosting off of cupcakes, splashing in the pool.