[ super munday activate go ]

[ super munday activate go ]


get to know me meme: favourite movies [1/5] Inception 2010

What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient… highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it’s almost impossible to eradicate


Derailing my train of thought by Thomas Wightman, graphic designer from Edinburgh, UK.

Book Sculpture to convey the effects of OCD on a persons life using the metaphor of a derailing train.

Posted to Cross Connect by Margaret


Paul Kaptien 

Mandorla Art Award 2014 - Winner
Laminated, hand carved wood.
h58 w28 d30cm
My Amp Goes To 11Twitter | Instagram

Ariadne - Chauncey Bradley Ives


Ariadne - Chauncey Bradley Ives


Eric Rondepierre. from Étreinte

drafts three | inbox zero | music your bones; of monsters and men


"—At least, until my headache kicks in."


He ducks his smile to the ground, almost sheepish. Only Arthur could ever consider a smile embarrassing.

Ariadne flopped on the couch. She’d had less, and was hoping for maybe a little sober cuddling. If he was up for it.


check in;


Mic was not a creative or imaginative person by any stretch except when it came to the art of dealing death. The idea of sharing a dream with another person and being able to extract information from said dreams was something she couldn’t wrap her mind around, limited in that sense as she was.

"Are you fucking with me."

Ariadne sort of marveled at her ability to make that a statement rather than a question.

"No, I’m really not. I mean, it’s not magic or anything, just machines that allow us to connect. So trust me, yeah. That gets really complicated if you’re not careful. You can lose track of reality."


Eames barely heard the knock at first but when it caught his ear, it seemed like it wouldn’t stop. He opened the door cautiously at first, playing the confused genteel Londoner, but as soon as he saw her he opened the door wide.

Ariadne. It couldn’t be, could it? Shivering and falling to her knees on the top step, wet to the core. He wasn’t proud that he froze for a second, hands jammed into his trouser pocket, feeling along the edges of his totem. 

Her pale face, wet clothes and voice spurred him into action and he scooped her up and brought her inside, kicking the door shut. “Ari… God, love, you’re soaked.”

Where the hell had she been? What happened….

She looked up at him with confusion. The name was foreign to her, both in diminutive as with any other form. Ari it seems was her name then, and as she fell into his house, or was it his arms? she closed her eyes, just for a moment.

It had been so long. But Eames would help her.

During her captivity, it was the only thought that had kept her alive, kept her going. If she was able to get free, even if everything else was stripped from her, she could remember him.

So she looked up with big, empty eyes and swallowed.

"It’s raining."

Convince my character not to leave yours.




He had the zipper halfway down her dress before they’d even gotten to the door, and paused for half a second to yank the key card out of his jacket pocket.  Seifer backed her straight into the room once the door gave way. 

"Strongly like it, then,” he retorted, hands fisting in the hem of her dress and yanking it up over her head. 

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A quiet chuckle at that, a dimple carves itself into his cheek.


"That explains it. But I’m certainly not complaining."

Ariadne arched an eyebrow. He got very cuddly when drunk.

Of course, so did she. “I’m glad to hear it.”



    “But… it’s not even that,” He responds sullenly, “There’s so much you don’t know about me, Ariadne. And I just… I keep it all down.”

Ariadne can feel him pushing away, but he’s not Cobb. She can’t press too hard.
"Do you want it to be that way?"