pawnchiko

[pawnchiko]

trash tarot deck (22/78)

[pawnchiko]

from @y2kdaily on ig . “gwen stefani of no doubt getting a whole crowd of men to sing ‘i’m just a girl’ on the tragic kingdom tour in 1995”

[pawnchiko]

[pawnchiko]

“May those who accept their fate find happiness; those who defy it, glory.” Is such a good quote you would think it came from Shakespeare but it’s actually from Princess Tutu

[pawnchiko]

This is really arbitrary for me but I didn’t feel like keeping it to myself. It’s not really based on anything in particular and it’s an extremely rough draft.

The hum of the rain caresses as it slides down the window in the dark of the night. The type of dark that is grey and blue from the heavy clouds that continue to build up outside. The room that you reside in however is cold due to the ac on high that has been on since there was light out. However goosebumps fail to meet your skin due to the warmth of white cloud like sheets on the bed and the weight of him on your chest. He’s so beautiful and he’s yours. Chest falling up and down, he stares up at you. A stare you’d think would be just as chilly if you didn’t know it was him. Running your fingers through the silk that was his hair, his stare intensified. What, your face says back to him, not with sustain but curiosity. Pulling up his forearms beside your body to hover above you, his locs fall on the sides of your face as you’re now looking up nose to nose with him. A look can say a lot more than words in situations like these. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t express the amount of gratitude painted on his face. The look on your face only paints back a ‘for what�� with eyebrows knitted together and a slight smile tugging on your lips. With lips meeting yours they say to you ‘for everything’ and the satisfaction travels from your lips to your neck, soft and gentle like eating a cookie that quickly crumbles. The smell of fresh linen and lavender cloud the room and it thunders down on you the closer his body pushes into you. Yet you invite it in and he sinks. As your eyes shut close from the intimacy it’s only slightly darker than the view with your eyes open, a dark grayish blue invading the room reflecting from the white curtains. The sound of pitter patter on the window and the ruffling of fabrics against moving bodies and harsh breaths stolen from the air as if it needs such the assault as if you need it and it won’t be there when you come back from him. His hands roam his own property from hip to hip limb to limp long fingers trace every vein, every dip and hill of skin. It’s like being lathered in him and the undeniable feeling that you want every vein, every dip and hill of skin to belong to him. Kisses pepper down your stomach and the fingers once rubbing your waist make their way up under an old flimsy tank top that does a horrible job at covering the mounds of breast underneath. The cotton moves along with fingers kneading like bread. Heart drumming, but not only in your chest but at the end of your eyelashes and tips of your toes. This indescribable feeling everywhere and no where all at the same time.