Are you sick of art history’s obsession with the gentle beauty of a female muse? Enough of these beautiful women with coy glances, flowing locks and milky soft skin — we’re ready for the men.

Nir Arieli's portrait series “Men” places men in traditionally feminine spaces and postures, illuminating the human characteristics that have, over time, become decidedly feminine traits. The following male muses are making us wish men felt free to explore their feminine sides more often. Behold, 11 reasons men should get in touch with a softer self. 

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*flails wildly*


headcanon time

ravenclaw boys that are too forward with girls (i.e., keep trying to get a girl to date them when she’s already said no) get haunted until they knock it the fuck off

helena ravenclaw (the grey lady) was literally killed by a dudebro that wouldnt take no for an answer so you bet your ASS that ghost would be all up and over boys that didnt respect boundaries

Reblogged on Apr 23 with 368 notes
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AU in which Emma is a rockstar has tattoos.

AU in which Emma is a rockstar has tattoos.

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“Do they sense it, these dead writers, when their books are read? Does a pinprick of light appear in their darkness? Is their soul stirred by the feather touch of another mind reading theirs? I do hope so.”

— Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale (via chandr-a)
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The heart shaped cake by Lily Vanilli is perfect for any cardiologists or evil Disney queens in your life. It’s made out of red velvet sponge cake or blood-red cocoa cake, topped with blackcurrant and raspberry “blood” coulis. Considering I couldn’t eat a bagel because it was dyed an unappetizing green color for St. Patrick’s Day, I might struggle to enjoy this cake no matter how sweet it is.

I want it. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaant. 

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The maidens came
When I was in my mother’s bower;
I had all that I would.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
The silver is white, red is the gold;
The robes they lay in fold.
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
And through the glass window shines the sun.
How should I love, and I so young?
The bailey beareth the bell away;
The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.

Anonymous (fifteenth century)

Posted on Nov 29 with 4 notes