lots of artists can fill their work with aching homosexual tension, but no one else can make the impending sodomy look quite as classy and exquisitely dressed as Leyendecker can. God bless you, sir.
Tatiana Plakhova and Leandro Sanchez - Another California
“Photographer Leandro Sanchez captures unique visuals of flooded beaches in Southern California and deep desert that only a few human beings will ever see, to them unite forces with Tatiana Plakhova and her extraordinary delicate designs.”
Kyudo - japanese archery. Beautiful people, beautiful outfits, flowers. colors and elegance.
CGI technology has brought the late Audrey Hepburn back to the screen, as she stars in a TV advertisement for the chocolate company, Galaxy. Hepburn’s sons, Sean Ferrer and Luca Dotti, said regarding the project: “Our mother often spoke about her love of chocolate and how it lifted her spirit, so we’re sure she would have been proud of her role as the face of Galaxy.” (watch the commercial here)
i can’t believe we’ve reached the point in technology where we can just
Absolutely terrifying and amazing at the same time.
(not necessarily a bloody nose but there are hints of facial bleeding hey)
This is one of those mornings when the sun came up too quickly across the bay and the bartender was forgiving with the bottle. This is one of those mornings when split lips and bruised cheeks are treasured prizes, earned greedily and quickly with a sly smile and a one-two-punch. This is one of those mornings when he almost doesn’t wake Bones up.
It’s grey and rainy and the bathroom light is too harsh on blurry eyes. There’s a regen in the cupboard behind the mirror - he peels off his shirt, jacket, gets the few dotted across his collarbone before the door slides open and a resigned sigh hurts more than any fist.
So he’s propped up on the sink whilst steady sure strong hands do their work. Bones is an anomaly amongst doctors these days, still presses skin and feels the edges of bruises, like he’s checking they’re real before he magics them away. And they’re close - close enough that Jim’s knees bracket his hips, close enough that Jim can see every hair of Bones’ morning shadow, the flicker of a tongue as he works. The side of his mouth is almost bitten raw - there was surgery. That’s why Bones didn’t come last night. Surgery until late, surgery that required focus. Important work. Bones’ work.
“How did it go?”
The well worn (well loved) crease in his brow deepens, jaw tightens.
“Don’t wanna talk about it.”
And maybe it’s the gravel in his tone or the buzz in Jim’s veins, but when Bones starts work on Jim’s face he can’t help but reach out as well, smooth the frown from those lips and trace the bitemarks with his thumb, brush through stubble and trace laugh/frown/Bones-lines and crows feet, because they’re so damn close. And Bones lets him, doesn’t err from his own work, until the only trace of the night before are widened eyes and a slight smile.
He places the regen on the counter. He doesn’t pull away. Just sighs again, parts his lips so slightly and so perfectly that Jim doesn’t even try to stop from reaching out to them, running fingertips over soft flesh.
“Why do you do this, Bones?”
“Why do you?”
It’s not an accusation, not even a real question. Jim has felt the brunt of blame and pity and disgust keenly. He knows what it is to be the weight on someone’s back or the thorn in their side. But this isn’t that - he can believe that, at least for now. Because the words feel like a kiss when Bones says them with Jim’s fingers riding on his lips, with the red of dried blood under his nails. A reminder, that jagged edges and breaks don’t scare him. That here, he is accepted. The healer, and the healing.
Sometimes Jim’s not sure which is which.
Fuck it, I am never writing Jim/Bones again.