#water reflectio

[aradxan]

Bear Lake Reflections by Pejasar https://flic.kr/p/2o5TftM

[onarangel]

 Park of the Champs Elysees in Lleida,Spain

By Images ● Fantasy on Flickr

[bwhitex]

Echoes of Elegance: Unveiling the Abstract Portrait of Personality

In a world where the essence of a person's being can be as captivating as the most breathtaking sunset, there exists a personality so finely tuned to the frequencies of human emotion, it can only be described as a masterpiece of psychological craftsmanship. This portrait of character, while not attributed to any one individual, paints an abstract of traits that many might find within themselves or aspire to encounter in another. The beauty of this personality is not just in its parts, but in the harmony of its whole, resonating with a formula that speaks to the soul: Beauty equals grace divided by the sum of pleasure and harmony, all multiplied by goodness.

Beauty = grace / (pleasure + harmony) good

The equation of Beauty = grace / (pleasure + harmony) good encapsulates a beauty that is not confined to the surface but is woven through the very fabric of being. It is the result of a harmonious blend of grace, pleasure, harmony, and goodness, creating a personality that resonates with the profound allure of an unspoken sonnet, the quiet dignity of a shared smile, and the steadfast warmth of an open hand.

This anonymous personality, a hypothetical figure sculpted from the finest psychological elements, reminds us that within the vast expanse of human diversity, there are those whose very existence is a testament to the beauty of the human psyche. They are the nameless ones we find in love, in friendship, in leadership, and in every walk of life, who, through their grace, pleasure, harmony, and goodness, elevate our understanding of beauty.

Grace

There is a certain lightness in being that comes with a high measure of agreeableness. It's a grace that endows one with the ability to glide through life's complex social labyrinths with ease and warmth. Those graced with this trait carry within them an ocean of empathy, where every wave is a gesture of kindness and every tide a testament to their genteel spirit.

Pleasure

In the sphere of extraversion, pleasure is a beacon that draws others in, a lighthouse of delight in a sometimes-dreary world. It's not just about basking in the sunlight of one's own joy; it's about casting that light wide so that it brightens the path for others. It's a pleasure that's contagious, spreading like wildfire, leaving a trail of laughter and light-heartedness in its wake.

Harmony

Imagine a personality so serene that its very presence could still the waters of a restless ocean. With a low inclination toward neuroticism, this personality trait is a bastion of balance and stability, offering a sanctuary of peace that quiets the noise of the world. Harmony is the thread that weaves through interactions, binding people together in a DNA of tranquility.

Good

Conscientiousness may not always manifest as meticulous organization or relentless productivity, but rather as a goodness that’s found in the earnest efforts of those who act with integrity. It's the good within that prioritizes meaningful endeavors over mere efficiency, valuing the spirit of the task above its completion.

Beauty

Openness, with its twin jewels of intellect and aesthetic appreciation, gifts its bearer with the ability to see beauty in the windswept plains of thought and the rich valleys of creativity. It's a perspective that finds wonder in both the grand and the granular, recognizing that beauty is not just seen, but also understood and felt.

This abstract embodiment of character traits, unclaimed by any name or face, serves as an archetype of the nuanced layers that compose human nature. The beauty of this personality blueprint is that it mirrors the potential within each person to cultivate a life rich in grace, pleasure, harmony, and goodness. It's a reminder of the intangible yet profoundly impactful ways we can touch the lives of others, simply by being embodiments of these qualities. Far from the anxious quest for self-discovery, this concept offers a tranquil reflection of the timeless virtues that resonate deeply within the human experience, inviting us to appreciate the art of character as the most authentic form of beauty.

[arthurtaylorlester]

malevolent ep 29 liveblog !!

(spoilers obviously)

are we underwater??

who's speaking i cant tell???

i feel like this is john @kayne but it could very well be yellow and larson

oh wait is this past dialogue?

i genuinely cant remember

oh okay its arthur remembering

"its just water" THEYRE BACK AND THEYRE BICKERING !!!

with silly music in the bg

oh exposition through john i always love it

oh they are so married

a donkey???????

this is so funny

arthur please stop groaning its...

THE FACE OF SOMEONE NOT TO FUCK WITH!!!

MUSTACHE?? harlan really just said yall wrong arthur has a mustache

john is a bitch wife comfimed/ j

A FILM????? JOHN WANTS TO SEE A FILM AND THATS WHY HES MAD !?!?!?

and john is soo petty he doesbt even want yo go to nyc

arthur having to temind john that theyre wanted

IS MALEVOLENT A COMEDY NOW???

john not tellibg arthur they were sitting next to someone the whole time

arthur spite-eating to piss of john >>>>

john are you having second thoughts??

BELLA LORE????

WE'RE MEETING DANIEL???

oh that was weird i bet its mr butcher

Oh wait violins is this mr butcher

whats the whispering in the bg

john stop describing im trying to hear the whispers

is this a kellin type?

oh he just needed to sneeze

diseased man get away from

"NOT OUR HANDKERCHIEF ARTHUR !!!"

malevolent is a comedy atp. thank you mr guthrie for this blessing of an episode

best season opener by far

"that's ... my arm, sir"

im not angry muttering i do it too lol

"hes using us as comfort? jesus christ" stfu john you did the same

wait isnt there a recession in the 1930s

OHHH THAT EXPLAINS THE READING EXCERPT

this train spunds dangerous

oh god oh fuck how is arthur going to read

arthur just what are you doing

is he just making up a story?

how he just talking about himself

QAIT IS THE FRIEND PARKER NOOOO

NO IF HES MEETING WITH PARKER HE DIED

or is this an elaborate way of telling the guy to fuck off

who sending a telegraph to 'will henley'

OH FUCK

ITS THE BUTCHER

the horror >:)

hes smiling oh this cant be good

this is really good and the sound design!!

they are so bad at communicating that they accidentally revealed their identity

WAIT WILL HENLEY IS AN ACTUAL PERSON??? ARTHUR WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

"beCAuse" IDK WHY THE WAY HE SAID THAT SO FUNNT

arthur is so smart it makes sense that the guy would try to corner him

YESS ARTHUR

I LIKE WHEN ARTHUR IS ALL CALCULATING AND SO DOES JOHN

so youre going to trap him in a train car

so arthur's escape plan is.... jump out of train. and break his legs. again.

oh snow will totally save you yeah sure

arthur just really likes playing dumb i think

now im on a train and i cant hear shit

john enjoys this?? john is excited My god he is so precioys

"You are my eyes" that had no reason to be so wholesome

"okay... youre overselling it" john critiquing arthurs acting im dead

10 more minutes will this end horribly?

I KNEW THEY WPULD BE ON THE TOP OF THE CARS

thats mad ahahhahah ... wait a damn minute

ITS MR BUTCHER

"why arent you looking at me" so he doesnt know the full extent of arthur madness

JOHN SOUNDS SO WORRIED

OH GOD THIS SO INTENSE

pov the tracks shave off his mustache

sorry this isnt the time for jokes

WHAT. HE FUCKING WHAT

HE TORE HIS CHEEK?? CALL THAT WILL GRAHAM CORE

wait imagine they become friends

it wpuld be real funny

john would be so pissed

oh god theyre going to jump off the train

THEYRE GETTIBG SIDETRACKED GODDAMNIT

okay so arthur is manipulating he is soo <33

MEMENTO MORI???

ny bbg is so good at stalling

NO ARTHUR DONT GET DISTRACTED THIS ISNT TGE TIME FOR SELF REFLECTIO

YES YOURE NOTHING LIKE HIM

HE DID IT!!

hes smiling again?

oh well he paid his respects

THAT WAS AN AMAZING EPISODE AND DAMN GOOD SEASON PREMIERE

i will be malevolent posting later today but alas i have other things to do other than screaming about fictional voices on tumblr

[otakunyakumon]

—tomorrow is another day

ao3

so,, this is kinda a self indulgent fic after it stayed in my head rent free for days haha. congrats ur now an afton,,, ig. maybe for a limited time only with a dash of yk head injury. pardon me, i’m very rusty abt lore.

pls enjoy^^

ft. reader (crying child), a little michael afton.

tw. none

You open your eyes to find yourself lying on a strange bed in a room you don't recognize. The room is, well, plain. Look, you just woke up and can't muster the energy to describe what you're seeing right now. The bed feels soft and fluffy unlike the one you use. Nonetheless, it's too early for your own taste. You groan and turn beside you.

White eyes greet you across the bed and your heart leaps into your throat. You meet the creepy familiar bear's piercing stare. He lies beside you, his white eyes glowing in its black sclera. You look away, trying to shake off the unease that fills you.

You could almost imagine it talking to you, saying good morning . The thought of it makes you strangely giddy and happy.

Weird.

As you avoid the gaze at the familiar, yet eerie teddy bear, you can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in the otherwise unsettling room. The stillness of the space is palpable, yet somehow the teddy bear's presence brings a sense of calm to your tired mind.

You know this is not your room, and you should be panicking or be afraid, but the feeling is missing. You don't even know why. Instead, you let out a heavy, resigned sigh, as if you've accepted your fate, whatever it may be. The air is sweet, and the smell of pancakes fills your nostrils. You turn back to the other side of the bed to attempt to go back to sleep again. You can feel yourself drifting off to sleep. For a moment, you think that Michael is in a good mood before coming to a halt.

—Who's Michael?

Your heavy eyes suddenly snap open in fear before something reminds you that he's not a threat. (Michael is mean but Dad is meaner. Michael would never do what Dad does—no he won’t—) You release a shaky exhale  and you are suddenly more aware of the feeling of boogers in your eyes as you blink through the blurriness in waking up. God, your eyes feel puffy. Did you cry yourself to sleep again? You lick your lips and find your throat is parched. You need water.

Rising from the bed, you observe your surroundings. The top half of the walls, up to about waist height, is a clean white, while the bottom half is a darker, almost greyish tone. The room is dim due to the lack of windows and the absence of artificial light. Only a sliver of light seeps in from the crack of the ajar door (for some reason, it gives you a sense of relief that you aren't locked in again, wait— again?) giving you just the right amount of light to see the room. You don't like how it all seems familiar to you.

Toys are strewn about on the floor near the white closet. It's a child's room, you think, judging from the items that were scattered. Some of them were oddly all purple in color. Perhaps they liked purple since they had two purple drawers too. You looked at the other side of the wall facing the bed, where the closet door is slightly open.  You have a foreboding feeling that something is in the closet.

You were about to crawl off the bed when you noticed something felt off. You looked down to see what was supposed to be your limbs. They were… small.

What?

You sucked in a breath. A feeling of unease takes over and starts to rise through your throat. Your limbs suddenly feel strange, as if they don't belong to you. Your eyes quickly sweep across the room to find something . With clumsy movements, you get off the bed and trip twice before you can make it to the drawer, pulling the one at the very bottom. It's as if you know where everything is despite the fact that you're in a stranger's body.

(but is it really a stranger if you have a sense of who it belongs to?)

Finally, you manage to get a hold of a mirror that you got from Liz. (who's Liz?) You stare at your reflection, trying to make sense of what's going on. Your heart races in your chest, and you can feel sweat forming at your palms. With trembling hands, you raise the mirror to your face, trying to make out your features through the fear that's sweeping through you like a storm.

You stare at your reflection.

No. This can't be real.

As you stare into the mirror, the reflection that stares back is not your own, but rather that of a young boy with a black and white striped shirt with messy brown hair to pair with. His- yours? dark eyes are puffy and red from crying the night before, and his expression is one of panic.

It's familiar and yet unfamiliar. The face that you've only known vaguely behind a screen is now staring right at you in the face. You don't recognise it but the shirt and the room is more than enough to clue you in.

(you don't think about a maw of teeth that will eventually bite your head off-—)

You breathe, not noticing you haven't been breathing while looking at the mirror. Your eyes burn with a sudden familiarity as your vision blurs. Tears run down your cheeks like a crybaby that you are. Suddenly, a sob escapes your lips, and before you know it, you're in the midst of a full-blown meltdown, your cries echoing through the room with the mirror left forgotten on the floor.

You don't notice the closet door opening frantically and warm arms holding you close, whispering comforts and shushing you as you cry and sob, though you're not sure why.

(you hear Michael shushing you to keep it down before Dad hears it. you know you should stop crying but you can't. Dad hates it when you cry. Dad yells at you about a perfect family and Uncle Henry and you keep crying. that's why he locks you up in this room—)

You don't know.

(you know but you refuse to acknowledge it. )

You cry for the loss of your old body, for the boy who cried too much, for the girl who just wanted to play, for the boy who wanted to play as a pirate and all the children that's already gone and about to be gone because of your new father. A red Foxy mask is dropped in haste but you ignore it in favor of gripping — Michael's , your mind supplied— gray shirt tightly, not wanting to let go, aware that you may never get to hug him like this again if it goes the same way you think it is.

The stuffed bear on the bed looks at both of your figures, its eyes unblinking and unemotional as the darkness around you begins to deepen, and you find yourself slipping into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps…

Tomorrow is another day.

[ms67chgem-blog]

Mirror , mirror on the wall...

[sorriest]

via instagram (@life_aesthetic)

[lifeunderthewaves]

Paraphilic Harbour by Ricardo_Mateus

[aintquiteright]

Green by OleHenrikSkjelstad

[clogging]

Stones Tale #5, towards the sun by lucio_photography

[superbnature]

Country Morning by matsu00011

[dslrno]

Reflections in The Fjord The beautiful fjord outside Gudvangen, Norway. Look at the car ferry for a sense of scale.

[makedata]

Jasper National Park by phoag // A beautiful morning at Patricia Lake in Jasper National Park, Canada

[vicariousplacebo]

my friend, the tree VII by Hellma Source: https://ift.tt/2RELNcf

[stumbleimg]

Twilight on Skagsanden Beach

[gracefree]

Canada Goose With Wings Spread by freelancewriterphotographer62