you know when you just lay eyes on someone for the first time and you are so attracted to them that the thirst is suddenly unbearable like throat hurting parched level thirst
listen the secret to pulling anything off—be it red lipstick or shaving half your head or wearing something ridiculous—is to literally just fucking do the thing and immediately adopt an attitude of giving no fucks, even if you have to fake it
"This is why you can’t trust women! They’re so good at makeup and wear it to fool guys into thinking they’re hot!"
shit. girls he’s on to us *washes off makeup to reveal lizard face and climbs up a wall* we will return with a new disguise. soon the power of earthly men will fall
- Swoosh on Narcissus (1881) by Gyula Benczúr (1844-1920).
- Swoosh on The Wave (1896) by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905).
- Swoosh on Rene-Charles Dassy and His Brother Jean-Baptiste-Claude Amede Dassy (1850) by Jean-Hippolyte Flandrin (1809 - 1864).
- Swoosh on Ajax and Cassandra (1886) by Joseph Solomon (1860-1927).
In some of the images, the logo becomes an absurd object held comically by mythical and religious figures, while in others, it cheekily interrupts dramatic scenes. Davide Bedoni uses other Nike trademarks with the same humorous flair: 18th and 19th century bourgeois figures seem to encourage people to ”Just Do It,” as if advertising their notoriously decadent lifestyle. As far as we can see from his more recent Tumblr activity, Bedoni’s Swoosh Art has now taken the streets as well, in the form of large posters pasted all over walls and billboards.
I find the last one rather less humorous given that Ajax is about to rape Cassandra.
Lily is half asleep, crawling over James as she gropes for her wand on the nightstand. She’s about to question the funny look on his face when she realizes that the grain and weight of the wand in her hand is all wrong. Her cheeks burn with the realization that it’s not her wand, but his, she’s holding. She releases it instinctively, dropping it to the bed, an apology half formed on her lips.
James scoops up the wand-his wand-and turns it in his fingers. He surprises her by pressing it into her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers, closing them around the wood. His movements are slow, deliberate, his eyes never waver. This feels every bit as intimate as his kisses, his touches, the weight of him on top of and inside her. He presses a kiss to her temple, whispers into her hair that it’s alright, he’s just never seen anyone use his wand before, and while it caught him off guard, she can use it any time.
James Potter’s wand feels strong, steady, warm in her hand. Lily wonders if any wand would feel that way or if it’s that he so willingly gave her his consent. She casts her first spell, something small-an accio for her own wand, which seems to have gone missing. She gasps in surprise at how foreign her own magic feels channeled through this strange piece of wood; different, but not wrong.
James catches Lily’s wand, which was buried in the heap of clothes by the door, and upon receiving an encouraging nod from his girlfriend, flexes his fingers around the handle. It’s smaller, yes, and it feels a bit wild, but so very, very Lily. He contemplates which spell to try only for a moment before he notices goosebumps on her exposed shoulder. Understanding her original intentions, he casts a warming charm over the quilt that covers them. Much appreciated, apparently, as he is rewarded with an enthusiastic kiss.
Some time later they are side by side, snuggled together under the quilt, backs against the headboard. They stay up until dawn experimenting: casting spells with increasingly complexity, comparing the differences and similarities, learning the nuances of each other’s wands.
In the months and years to come this will become second nature, each other’s wands as familiar as their own. Now, however, it’s hard for them to imagine, for that desire-a life together-is only beginning to take shape in their hearts. But it is starting, and it grows on nights like this, with whispers and kisses and confidences and firsts. It feels a lot like love.
I am a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan.
LOOK AT THAT FACE THOUGH
CRIES ABOUT IT HONESTLY