#28 WAYS

[talesfromthecrypts]

Cillian Murphy and Naomie Harris in 28 Days Later (2002)

[mikeywayarchive]

Backstage photos shared by Quinn Allman on Twitch // Sep 28th 2024 Screenshots via BURLEDMYSELF on Twitter [x] [x]

[daeyumi]

Exploring the depths 🌌🪻

[kittenonpluto]

Cillian Murphy | beaten, bloodied, and bruised feat. : Red Lights (2012), Peaky Blinders (2013-2022), Free Fire (2016), The Delinquent Season (2018), & 28 Days Later (2002)

[thermodynamic-comedian]

i just know lena "please don't tell me about your personal life" kelley was giving trevor the world's most pointed side-eye when he described the oiar crew as "diverse"

[inkkill]

“Everyone moves on…

… And I get left behind”

[bloom-with-grace-and-faith]

This really spoke to me because lately I’ve been dealing with temptation, so hopefully it helps you guys out as well.



Like a city that is broken down and without walls [leaving it unprotected] Is a man who has no self-control over his spirit [and sets himself up for trouble.] Proverbs 25:28

[c-0f-chaos]

I made some rings!

They look good, but like every time I try to make rings, they're a pain to make

It's so hard to put them in the right shape, I always burn my fingers. Some of them are still loose and don't get me staring on getting the length right

I also made the last addition to my phone charm chain! The pastel burnt

This chain keeps bringing me joy every day! Heres the others if you're interested

[musashi]

not a narumayo shipper but i believe in their beliefs

[apathetic-kiss]

The Rosier Family being social outcasts amongst the rest of the Sacred 28, not out of disgust or betrayal, but rather due to how the other families hold a morbid curiosity and slight fear towards the pure-bloods who seem to isolate themselves more than any other family.

For as long as anyone could remember, the Rosiers produced peculiar looking heirs; they all shared the same bone-white hair and gaping eye-bags, facial structure like fine china and long, bendy limbs. The children were always strange, seemingly intellectual and wise beyond their years, darkened pupils that seemed to stare into your soul if you made eye-contact for too long. They would chatter amongst themselves, rarely talking to the other pure-blood youths, preferring to whisper to each other in soft mumbles and squeaks. The Rosier children were never sent to Hogwarts, and rarely attended pure-blood banquets and balls. If they did, they trailed behind their parents and hid away in corners, blending in with the cryptids and ghosts which seemed to haunt every old wizarding mansion. When they aged, the Rosier offspring tended to become even more hermit-like; there was no presenting a daughter to society, no celebrations of a boy coming-of-age in the same way there was in other pure-blood families. They instead would disappear from pure-blood society for years at a time, their parents or aunts or siblings airily mentioning that they were abroad at the time.

In adult-hood, it was said the Rosiers only had one path of employment, and that was none. The blood-line was made up of inventors, of researches and explorers and users of dark magic, of witches and wizards who travelled the world and did unspeakable things in the name of discovery. Whispers existed amongst the Sacred 28 in regards to what the Rosiers had managed to uncover, invent, and twist their magic into, with rumours of anything from successful immortality, inter-species breeding, artificial life, and spells, hexes, and potions beyond one's wildest imagination. Whenever a Rosier died (as very few of them seemed to make it to old age), it was usually due to a tragic accident, a spell gone wrong or being mauled to death by a mysterious creature, a mix-up of potions or something along the lines of accidental, self-inflicted insanity. The private events such as funerals were barred from anyone outside the family line, preventing any further investigation into the births, lives, and deaths of the Rosiers.

The exception was if there ever was to be a union of two families when a wedding was held on the mysterious lawns of the Rosier mansion. Even then, it was kept relatively private, with only the immediate family of the non-Rosier spouse allowed to be in attendance, and the presence of a single writer to detail the events of the ceremony for the Sacred 28's records. However, weddings only ever seemed to happen once every forty years or so; there was only usually a single sibling married in a generation, the others dying mysteriously young or pledging themselves to their work for all eternity. It was as though the Rosiers only ever interacted and joined with another family for the sake of continuing the blood-line, and other than that would rather stay hidden away on the acres of property and endless wealth accumulated by the family over the generations.

The birth of twins Evan and Pandora Rosier was kept a secret from the rest of the Sacred 28 until their fifth birthday, when their mother brought them along to a morning tea hosted at a pure-blood mansion for the women to discuss the current political sphere of the wizarding world. The other women were shocked when Céline Rosier floo-ed into the mansion, her first public appearance in almost six years (they always invited her and her husband to events out of obligation and politeness, but the two very rarely showed to events. Secretly, the other family members were always slightly relieved when they didn't.). They were even more surprised at the addition of two white-haired children clinging to her robes, who she whispered to softly and sent outside to the court-yard to see the other children. Céline's sister, Druella Black, embraced her tightly, though the fury at her exclusion from her sister's life ever was apparent on her face; the family had cut her off both socially and financially after she chose to move to the Black family mansion instead of raising her children on the Rosier ancestral land. People had whispered about how this apparent betrayal to her roots and her aligning with the Black family instead would place a curse on her and her children, the rumours already whirling after her boys were born and were missing the signature pale hair; Druella had dyed her hair black the day after Sirius was born, a sign of rebellion against anyone who dared question her allegiance to the Blacks. Still, as they grew older, the lack of resemblance between the Rosier twins and the Black boys became more and more apparent regardless of the closeness in blood relativity. Nobody dared bring up the curse again, and Druella's maiden name and the history of her roots was never mentioned in Sacred 28 circles again.

Evan and Pandora grew up the same way generations of their ancestors had; isolated, surrounded by books, and most of all, alone. Their parents spent most of their days locked away in their own workshops, the job of child-rearing left to various members of staff and random family members who lived around the property. There were always wizarding scientists and researchers and medical professionals popping in and out of the mansion, some staying for tea and some staying for six months at a time, some who ignored the children and some who taught Evan everything he knew about potions. Though some would argue that this was no way for children to grow up, the twins would disagree; they had free-reign of the giant house and surrounding property, no bed time or limitations and complete access to their family library which had been accumulated over centuries to house over twenty-thousand books and manuscripts. When Pandora was eight, she decided she was going to read everything in the library before she died, even if it took her reading all day every day of her life (she gave this up not even twelve days into it, when had Evan begged her to put down the books and come camp down at the creek with him. She had obliged). They spent the first eleven years of their lives reading constantly and desperately, devouring novels and spell books and potion guides and studies on muggles and wizarding magazines and whatever they could get their hands on. They made potions and taught themselves non-verbal magic, experimenting with animals and transfiguration and manipulated all kinds of elements and metals and objects. They never learnt the distinction between light and dark magic, it all seemingly just a tool for them to learn how to further their skills. It was an incredible way to grow up according to them, and they wouldn't have changed it for the world. But before their shared eleventh birthday, everything had changed.

When the pair woke up and received their Hogwarts letters, they had simply tossed them to the ground and gone on with their day; Hogwarts was irrelevant to them, and only existed vaguely in their peripheral thoughts as something that other magical children were a part of. However, that night when they sat down for a very rare family meal, Céline had announced that the twins would be starting at the boarding school in September. That decision was final. After some push-back from her children, she had shut them down with a no-arguments look and the twins fell silent. They looked at each other with slight hesitation, not knowing what the hell to expect from this switch-up in the routine and life-style they had known all their life. That summer, Pandora had buried herself in books and journals written about Hogwarts and by Hogwarts students, attempting to learn and memorise everything she could about the school and its history. Evan on the other hand, was in complete denial; he shut down any mention of the school by his mother or sister, and refused to engage in Pandora's discussion about aspects of the curriculum or what their experiences at the school may be. He spent most of his time leading up to their departure for Hogwarts locked in the upper rooms of the mansion, experimenting on frogs and rats and mice as he perfected more spells and potions he was working on (though he did occasionally allow Pandora to join him and help work out the flaws in his potion-work, as long as she promised no mention of their upcoming time at the educational institute that will not be named).

The first problem that came along at Hogwarts was the expectation that they mingle with the other pure-blood families; they had only very rarely interacted with other children, and so the idea that they were supposed to befriend and talk to these other pure-bloods was an alien concept to them. Evan and Pandora had spent a little time with Regulus and Sirius as kids, but the brothers were already sitting with Sirius' Gryffindor friends in another carriage. However, this did mean the twins had an excuse to sit alone together and bury themselves in books (Pandora in her now-battered copy of Hogwarts; a History, and Evan in a definitely illegal book on the anatomy of various creatures and how to best butcher them for black-market sale).

The second problem that arose for the twins was the discovery at the sorting ceremony that they were to be in different houses. Evan was called up first, and the whispers had already begun about which house the first Rosier to ever attend Hogwarts would be in. The hat barely touched his head before shouting out Slytherin, and he had made a bee-line for where Regulus was seated with the other first years on the table. However when the hat was placed on Pandora's head, it had deliberated for a few seconds before calling out Ravenclaw. Evan had felt his face drop and the his look of horror matched Pandora's own; there was nothing wrong with Ravenclaw of course, but the awfulness of not being in the same house as his sister was something that hadn't even crossed his mind. They had spent their whole lives together, they were attached at the hip, they were practically the same person, right? Right? He watched Pandora drift over to her house table with a mournful look on her face, nodding with fake reassurance at her when their eyes locked. They would make this work.

The third problem Hogwarts presented the twins was the issue of their apparent disconnection from the rest of the wizarding world. Though this was something that had never bothered them before, and something they had in fact felt proud of in their childhood, it was now becoming a problem. Evan had never shared a room with anyone aside from Pandora, and his social skills... left room for improvement. His room-mates, Regulus and Barty, thought he was a total asshole who hated the both of them, when in reality he simply didn't understand the premise of politeness; he and Pandora had always been brutally honest to one another and to their parents, and this just seemed like the norm until he arrived at Hogwarts. Pandora's roommates on the other hand seemed to catch on to her apparent otherness immediately, and quickly shunned her from their group for being weird and creepy (it actually took Pandora a few weeks to catch onto the fact that they were being mean to her; she just figured the other girls were ignoring her out of nerves, the same way she was anxious every time she tried to start a conversation with them. She discovered this was not the case though after the fifth time she had tried to talk to one of them, and they had all left the room giggling and pointing at her). Neither of them made any real friends in their first year, and were utterly miserable.

Things perked up in their second year. Regulus had gotten into a fight with Sirius over summer and the two were no longer on speaking terms. Barty's presence had started to become truly annoying to Regulus, so Evan and Pandora became the only ones Regulus deemed appropriate company as the two were happy to sit in silence and read together. Pandora also managed to befriend an older Slytherin girl, Dorcas, as the two had striked up a conversation about Herbology in the library and become study partners. Dorcas was struggling in her third-year potions, a subject Pandora was well-versed in and knew all kinds of tips and tricks in. Pandora was barely passing Defence Against the Dark Arts as the theory was mind-numbingly boring to her, but luckily it was Dorcas' best subject. Evan and Regulus were quickly added to their study group due to their proficiency in other subjects, and when he could be convinced to shut up, Barty would sometimes lounge on a nearby table and pretend to do work. How he managed to have the highest grades of all of them, that was the true mystery.

Their little rag-tag group of five only grew closer over the years at Hogwarts, and stuck together through all the triumphs and traumas. They were there for each other when Dorcas was made quidditch captain, when Sirius ran away and Regulus was left alone, when Evan and Pandora's mother died in fifth year, when Regulus was made a prefect, when Dorcas' sister contracted a terminal illness, when Barty came back from Christmas break with red marks up and down his back. They were there for each other through it all, and Evan never knew the meaning of found family until their group of five found each other; to the Rosiers, family was blood and blood was family, end of story. He had never known there was an alternative, but he didn't care; his mother and father had never held him when he cried, but Dorcas had wrapped her arms around him after he broke down thinking of his mother being lowered into the ground.

And, after everything went down and everything went to shit, Regulus and Barty had held him in the shower as his shoulders shook, terror and fear and mourning wracking his body as he thought of Pandora. His beautiful sister, the most important person in his life, the other half of his soul had denounced him, had said she would kill him herself if she ever saw him again, had screamed at him with ferocity unseen ever before after seeing the tattoo that now decorated his forearm. She'd refused to listen to him and his pleas to join him, to follow him into the darkness of discovery, to become powerful together. After everything they had been through, they'd each chosen family in their own way; Evan, in following Regulus and Barty into the darkness Voldemort's growing allegiance, and Pandora, in remaining isolated from the affairs of the outer wizarding world, in separating herself from anyone who was not blood or who betrayed their blood, and in cutting off their apparent found family at the drop of a hat.

At the end of the day, it all came back to family, to the Rosiers, and to the endless, relentless isolation.

Evan died alone on a battle-field, his body left on a beach to be reclaimed by the elements as his soul departed for the afterlife. Pandora felt the second he left this plane of existence, a string inside of her cut and leaving her forever longing for the brother she had lost a long time ago. She had looked out her kitchen window after the day of his death, seeing a pair of two dark-haired men standing in the paddock across from the Rosier mansion, the empty space left for her twin apparent in the middle of the two men. They had all looked at one another for a moment, before her old friends had disapparated into the winds of the day. Pandora sighed quietly, a tear falling down her face as turned back towards the bubbling cauldron she was minding. She wiped her face quickly as she heard her husband walking up the stairs, and fixed her face with a soft smile.

Pandora died alone in the backyard of her childhood home, a flash of blue light being the last thing she saw before her body fell to the ground. Her last thought was not of her twin, but rather of her daughter he never got to meet, and the regret she felt at subjecting her to seeing her mother die like that. As she felt herself cross into the afterlife, it was as though a part of her soul let out a sigh of relief. Though she was leaving behind her family, she was to join Evan and her parents once again. Maybe that was for the best.

Xenophilius locked up the Rosier mansion for good after his wife was buried in the family graveyard, moving his young daughter away from the house which had always rubbed him the wrong way. The halls, the bedrooms, workshops, and library would stay empty for many years, preserved with spells and protective enchantments keeping the mansion pristine and untouched by the years gone by. If one were to visit now, it would look as though the Rosiers were still there, and perhaps had simply gone for a walk, and would return any minute. They say the ghosts of the Rosier bloodline still haunt the house, the chatter of laughter and the sound of scribbling and the turning of pages echoing through its empty, abandoned hallways.

Another family lost, forgotten to the magic of time passing.

[propertyofkylar]

kinktober day 22: pegging (m!sydney x gn!pc)

word count: 1421

tags/warnings: pegging, anal fingering, no gendered terms referring to reader but has a vagina and uses a strap-on, the importance of using lube

note: HIIII REMEMBER ME i write things i do...sometimes... im SORRYYYY that its december and i havent finished kinktober. i got overwhelmed. the good news is that time is a construct and kinktober is not merely 31 days in a month...oh no...it is a state of being and babey im here year round

“You’re sure you want this?”

The dildo in your hands was unlike any real cock you’d seen - of course, real dicks were not purple and sparkly. You wiggled it in your hands, watching it bounce. Would this fit into Sydney’s ass?

Sydney nodded, a resolute expression on his face. This was something you’d discussed together for a while now. You’d done some experimenting - just some light fingering - and now it was time for the real deal. 

You were going to peg your boyfriend. 

Since Sydney had his eyes opened to what he called “the world of sin,” he’d been a lot more interested in the intricacies of sex and kink. That led the two of you to where you were today. 

Sitting on Sydney’s bed, a harness on your body, a fat dildo in your hand, and a bottle of lube beside you. 

“Okay,” you said in response, and gently stroked Sydney’s cheek. “But don’t forget we can stop at any time.”

“I know,” he smiled and nuzzled his cheek into your palm. “I trust you, my love.”

With that, you crawled into Sydney’s lap and began to kiss him. You had already stripped entirely naked, while Sydney was still in his underwear. As your tongues swirled in each other’s mouths, you could feel him rapidly hardening beneath you. 

“Someone’s eager,” you breathed against his lips. He nodded. You threaded your fingers through Sydney’s dark hair the way you knew he liked and tugged, eliciting a moan from him. 

You pulled away briefly to rig the dildo into the harness - you’d practiced - before returning to kiss Sydney some more. As you did so, you ground your hips into him, frotting your fake cock against his real one. Sydney’s breathing got heavier, and yours did too. The harness had a bumper that rubbed your clit with each thrust. 

Warmth spread through your body, the two of you huffing as your hips moved in tandem. You almost got carried away with the dry humping when you suddenly remembered why you were actually here. You pulled away again, Sydney whining at the loss of contact. 

“Take them off,” you said softly, and Sydney instantly did as told, tugging down his boxer briefs. His heavy cock smacked against his belly, flushed and hard after your fit of grinding. The sight was enough to almost make you drool. You couldn’t believe the temple had tried to lock this thing away from you. 

You grabbed the bottle and squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your fingers, coating your digits thoroughly. “I’m going to go slow,” you said, tossing the bottle aside and lightly scratching Sydney’s chest with your free hand. “Tell me to stop at any time and I will.”

“I know,” he murmured, pulling your hand to his mouth. Sydney kissed each of your fingertips. “You don’t have to keep telling me. I want this. Trust me.” He sucked your pointer finger into his mouth, his tongue swirling around. The submissive act made you whimper and your hips unconsciously bucked. 

With one lube-covered finger, you gently stroked his hole, before slowly pushing it in. It wasn’t much, of course, but it had Sydney groaning already. After a moment, you began to move that finger. 

“More,” Sydney whispered, and you were happy to indulge. Your middle finger slid in too, and you pumped the two fingers faster, scissoring inside of him the way you knew he liked. 

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped, and that did something to you. The sound of Sydney cursing always felt electrifying. With your other hand, you pressed against Sydney’s shoulder, forcing him to lay down on the bed. His dark hair spread around him like the halo of a fallen angel, yet he gazed up at you so adoringly there was no way any of this could be sinful. 

You pumped your fingers for a few more minutes and then retracted when you felt he was stretched enough. He whined at the loss, but eager anticipation flashed in his eyes for what was yet to come. You grabbed the lube again and squirted it on the dildo, probably more than necessary, but you wanted to be safe. Sydney watched intently as your hand jerked off the dildo, ensuring every centimeter was thoroughly coated. 

The two of you locked eyes as you leaned forward, pressing the tip of your dildo against Sydney’s hole. “I love you,” he said softly, which made you shiver with pleasure. And with that, you eased into him.

You went slowly, knowing full well for yourself that a cock was much different than having fingers inside of you. As you stretched Sydney out far more than he had ever been before, you watched eagerly as his eyes rolled back and his cheeks flushed bright pink.

“Fuck,” Sydney whimpered. His reaction was possibly the hottest thing you had ever seen. You rocked gently against his hips, excitedly watching his eyes glaze over from sheer pleasure. Sydney’s fists clutched desperately at the bedsheets beneath him, the fabric wrinkling under his grip. “It…it feels so good…”

“Does it?” You smirked, suddenly overcome with the urge to tease your adorable and sexy boyfriend. “How about when I do this?” You thrust into him again, slightly harder this time, and were filled with joy when he gasped suddenly.

A moan escaped your own mouth when the grinder in the harness pressed against your clit. Your thrusts were languid, trying to ease into a rhythm without overwhelming Sydney.

But that didn’t seem to be working for him, because he whined your name. You looked up into his eyes - pupils fully blown out - and shivered at the sight.

“Fuck me,” Sydney begged. “Hard. Please.”

Who were you to deny such a polite ask? You channeled memories of being penetrated yourself and almost entirely pulled out before slamming back in fully. Sydney let out a pleasure-tinged moan.

“Again!” He demanded, and you thrust hard into him repeatedly. Over and over, watching tears gather in the corner of Sydney’s eyes, pressure building deep in the pit of your belly. You stabilized yourself on the bed with one hand and moved the other down to grip his cock, sloppily trying to jerk him off in tandem with your thrusts. Your rhythm certainly wasn’t perfect, but Sydney’s sobs told you that you were doing a well enough job.

“Fuck,” you moaned, looking at him fucked out and hot below you. “You look so fucking good like this. Taking my cock so well.”

Sydney gasped. “Y-your hand – it feels so fucking –” his words were cut off by moans and he didn’t finish the thought.

The sight of him was too much. “I’m gonna cum,” you grit out, your tempo lost entirely as your hips went wild, hand barely keeping a grip on Sydney’s precum-soaked cock. “Oh, fuck, Sydney,” was all you could manage as your climax hit you. You squeezed your eyes shut, stars dancing in your vision. You could only imagine how good it would feel to cum inside him with a real cock, and that made you orgasm even harder.

Sydney was mumbling your name over and over like a prayer. As you came down from your high, you could feel his cock twitching in your hand. He was close, too. Leaning your head in, you pressed soft kisses to his neck, nibbling on his earlobe before whispering “let go for me, baby.”

And with a strangled cry, hot ropes of cum shot out from his cock, spreading over your hand and his stomach. The two of you breathed heavily, watching him twitch as finally, his cum ran out. Then, you looked at each other and giggled.

Ignoring the sticky mess on him that would surely spread to you, you flopped down on top of Sydney with an oomph, easing the dildo out of his ass. You couldn’t formulate coherent enough thoughts to speak, and you figured that he couldn’t, either. So you both sat in silence for a few.

“That was…” Sydney let out a shaky breath and chucked. “Yeah. It was.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a giggle. “For sure.”

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and flipped you, so he was on top. Then, he nuzzled his head into your neck. The feeling of his hair on your skin made you giggle more.

“Let me lay here for a few minutes…” he murmured. He was so cute, it made your heart melt. “Then…I wanna see how well you can take my cock and the dildo together.”

[mikeywayarchive]

Instagram story by yallhavingbirthdaycake

[Jul 28, 2024]

[push-upsindragg]

we get a 20 year anniversary for the summer of like and the amazing new mexico sunset. i think this is gonna be my year

[wodania]

iron dude dump

[royalarchivist]

Fit: I would never hit my own children. My own biological children. I would never hit my own children, but these little bastards– [he kills a "Snot" a child-like mob] Fair game, fair game. [Fit looks at Ramon] Well, ok, biological or adopted, it doesn't matter. My children– I would never hit my children.

Fit: See, now I just opened up a can of worms– now someone's like "Ramon's your biological child???" So what if he is? So what if he is, huh? [Reading chat] No I'm not a bird, I didn't lay Ramon. That sounds painful. That sounds extremely painful.

[QSMP kicks him off the server]

Fit: You know, and– literally because we're having this conversation right now, the QSMP admins were like "Uhh, no, we gotta restart the server. Fit's talking about pushing eggs out of his ass."

[skellydun]

i wish I had more friends who liked the same things that i do bc I'm booking this tiny cabin in the woods for a few days and none of my friends enjoy the outdoors so I'm going solo which is good for the soul but at the same time if I'm murdered I'd like someone to be there other than the murderer