#Blackberry Creek

[brandonraykirk]

Ran'l McCoy's Final Months (1914)

Ran'l McCoy's final months (1914) #Appalachia #history #HatfieldMcCoyFeud #feuds

Oral history relating to Randolph “Ran’l” McCoy’s final years is scant. Most historians rely upon Truda Williams McCoy’s book The McCoys: Their Story (1976) for information about his life. Here are a few news items which may in some part be reliable that provides more information about Ran’l and his final months of life. Randolph McCoy Falls into Fireplace (January 9, 1914) “Randall McCoy, who…

[vandaliatraveler]

Finally, a gorgeous spring day for a long hike in the mountains! Blake and I did the 7+ mile round trip hike on the Rohrbaugh Trail to Red Creek Canyon in the Dolly Sods Wilderness. This is a fabulous hike through old spruce forest leading to a rocky promontory overlooking the Red Creek drainage. Other than in the fall, you get the overlook mostly to yourself (true solitude is a rare thing in the Mid-Atlantic, with over a third of the nation's population crammed into the Eastern Seaboard). Yesterday, we shared the vista with a group of day-hikers from Pennsylvania, including one young acrobat who was doing backflips at the edge of the overlook (photo #7). Bat-shit crazy but ballsy. He also retrieved someone's lost sunglasses from a sketchy crevice.

Rohrbaugh Trail can be a tough hike due to muddy troughs that have formed in poor drainage areas. So if you decide to try it out - and it's absolutely worth the slog - wear a pair of good, water-proof hiking boots. This is wilderness, after all.

[jtbb]

i miss september

[graveyardrabbit]

[empressofthelibrary]

Thinking about how honeysuckle, blackberries, and mint are all stubborn-as-fuck plants that Can And Will take over your entire backyard if you give them half a chance, but are also very different from each other

[crudlynaturephotos]

[petaltexturedskies]

When the blackberries hang swollen in the woods, in the brambles nobody owns, I spend all day among the high branches, reaching my ripped arms, thinking of nothing, cramming the black honey of summer into my mouth; all day my body accepts what it is. In the dark creeks that run by there is this thick paw of my life darting among the black bells, the leaves; there is this happy tongue.

Mary Oliver, from "August" in Devotions

[mysterymeatmunchr]

Barkback Mountain By The MeatMunchr

Authors notes:

3.3k words, one shot, FTM MLM

This is basically my “If Brokeback Mountain was two trans male cowboys fucking raw and nasty in the woods” fantasy. Oh, and also they’re both into pet play.

Content Warnings:

Consensual Fighting/Impact play, Struggling/Struggle Fucking, Blood, Spit, Knives, Cutting, Degradation, Pet Play, Brief light CNC

Character Descriptions:

I didn’t name the characters because I want readers to be able to think of whoever they want, BUT I did picture what they look like to me. You can picture them differently if you would like to.

The Narrator:

FTM, bear, butch, short and stout, broad shouldered, muscular but not toned, beer bellied, full dark thick and curly body hair, full trimmed beard, chest length loose dark curls, wide calloused hands, dark hooded eyes, broad browed, and strong featured.

He wears a black cattleman hat, a dark denim shirt, dark denim pants, brown boots, and a silver bolo tie.

The Lover:

FTM, otter/cub, butch, short, muscular and toned, broad shouldered, full thick dark curly body hair, full overgrown stubble, brow length loose brown curls, brown soft downturned eyes, and soft featured.

He wears a tan cattleman hat, a blue denim shirt, blue denim pants, and tan boots.

As I stand in the clearing waiting for him to arrive, I wonder if he’s gotten lost again. I was sure to give him plenty of markers to look out for on the way, and it isn’t all that hard once you reach the creek, but for a cowhand he sure is poor at finding his way. I’ve waited this long to see him again, I’m sure I can wait moments longer until he stumbles upon the clearing. I find a stump to rest on while I wait with my thoughts to keep me company. The excitement and nerves tangle up my insides, but I can manage a stoic front.

It isn’t too long before a rustling comes from the trees and a familiar form appears. A man close to my height, a little more on the slender side compared to my burly stout build and beer fattened stomach, but still stocky enough to keep up with the other cattlemen. Unlike the others, we both hold the same secret. We knew from the day we set eyes on each other we were different from the others. It was an unspoken kinship, something in our eyes that screamed out to each other, ‘I know what you are.’ It wasn’t long before we started having our little… meetings…

As the other man approaches I stand to greet him, “Took you long enough,” His dark unkempt curls are spilling out from under his hat and his blue denim fit him well, starched like a gentleman for a special occasion. “You know I’ve never met a cowhand as directionless as you. It’s damn near shameful.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” he says with a smile.

“I wasn’t lost this time, I saw something a ways back by the creek and stopped for it.”

The man sets down his pack next to mine, then lifts his tan hat up revealing a white handkerchief tied up into a sack, peppered with deep dark stains. He hands me the parcel from atop his head. I untie the knots revealing blackberries bursting with juice.

“Well, this is mighty kind of you, thank you. I apologize for my comments.” I bit into a berry and he did the same, the dark juice pooling between his teeth like a beautiful premonition of what’s to come. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks me. His brown eyes glowing gold in the tree filtered sunlight.

“Of course I do, the hardest part is deciding whether or not I’m letting you throw the first punch,” I said, trying and failing to wipe a smirk off my face. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

“I’m not,” his tone was serious. “I want this, and this time, I’m gonna win.”

“It’s cute that you think that pretty boy, we’ll see.” I take off my bolo tie and denim shirt, fold up the shirt and place it on top of my pack along with my black cattlemen hat. My partner does similarly and we head to the center of the clearing.

…

Blow after blow, noses and mouths bloodied, the metallic taste on our teeth fuels something deeply primal and terrifying within us as we spit and growl and scream at each other. The sweat, blood, and dirt on him fills my lungs. The smell is sickeningly sweet. He socks me square in my jaw. I roar before spitting out the blood. ‘Enough,’ I think to myself. I shove the smaller man to the ground, eyes aflame, no longer recognizing the beautiful boy I’ve bloodied, bruised, and beaten. My muscles ache, wrestling him into submission, our bodies woven together in a desperate battle for dominance. I finally pin him down on his back, straddling his hips, gripping both his wrists hard enough to bruise. He’s banging his head into the earth, thrashing his arms and legs, trying and failing to free himself from the heavy strength and weight of me. He howls out a deep, defeated, guttural scream. His teeth bared and snarling, with strings of bloody spit weaving through his hateful mouth.

I smile as he spits on my face. I look him in the eyes smug as I lick his spit off the side of my mouth.

“You’re disgusting,” he hisses through gritted teeth, knowing I’d won, knowing he wants me to dominate him and he hates me for it.

I hold him there still for a moment to take in my work. I need to see it, the hate and lust and defeat. Angry tears well up in his eyes as the blood rushes in and swells up my already leaky tcock.

I crash into his lips devouring him while he lets out little curses between each breath, he breaks my desperation with a bite to my lip. He gives me all the spite in his body until he draws blood. I smile, lip still caught between his teeth, as I grab his jaw digging my fingers into his bruised cheeks to release myself. I’m thankful for it, he just gave me a reason to pull away and strike his face hard with an open hand. I spit on his pitiful, beautiful, beaten face and strike him once more. I lap it up off his cheek along with the blood and dirt like a ravenous dog, unable to stop myself from grinding against his struggling hips. The degradation of him is burning up something hateful and angry and shameful inside me.

I move his wrists into one of my hands, keeping him pinned as I reach for my hunting knife. Savoring the fear in his eyes, I hold the blade to his throat.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” I whisper into his ear.

Keeping him at knife point I get up and hastily kick off my boots and tear off my jeans and drawers. I know I already have him, he’ll be good and stay put for me, but I’m just too impatient, I want to defile him so badly.

I crash back down to the earth to rip off his jeans. I can hear his ragged breaths through the leaves singing in the wind. I slash through his drawers with my knife, before tracing down his stomach with the blunt side of the blade. He knows what’s coming next. I press the tip of my knife into his thigh and drag slowly, his body tenses and he whimpers. The sound sends blood rushing to my pulsing heat. I’ve marked him with another tally, another loss, permanently scarred next to seven previous defeats. I don’t know when this part of the ritual began but I fell in love with how humiliating this is, especially for him, knowing my thigh bears only three marks and his now holds eight. A tear rolls down his soiled cheek as I force open his legs, pinning up one of his thighs before holding my knife back up at his throat. I look into his eyes hazed with fear and lust, without words, I’m commanding him, not asking, yet still he nods his head. It’s more permission than I needed to mount him. Dripping and hungry, I grind my boycunt against his. His defiance and anger is melting into submission, as he begins to match my movements. We rut into each other like dogs in heat.

One of his hands claws into my forearm just barely holding the knife at bay, and the other clutches the forest floor tight as we frot. Our cum soaks the earth beneath us. He desperately grinds his hips into mine, he can’t bite back his moans anymore.

“Please,” he whimpers like a dog, “Please, use your mouth, I need your tongue,” begging through gasps. He’s mine. He knows he’s mine. I dig my nails into the soft, hairy skin of his thighs, and he winces.

“How badly do you want me?” I challenge, my voice deep and rasped with breathlessness, “Show me,” I command.

Slowly his hand releases my forearm, leaving behind bloodied crescent moons and the beginnings of bruises where his nails were once buried. My nails embedded in his thigh follow suit, and I toss away my knife.

“Please,” he whispers, beginning to prop himself up. I nod and allow him to sit up, he brings his face close to mine and kisses me gently, then pulls away. “I want you so badly” he whines.

I feel the heat of his hand radiate down my big hairy stomach as he makes his way towards my swollen heat. He lays his head on my shoulder and I clutch his shaggy brown curls forcefully. A moan escapes his lips. His fingers begin to stroke my throbbing aching cock, and I can feel the cum dripping from my boycunt. I let a moan slip out, and he hesitates.

“Don’t stop, show me how badly you want me, how badly you want me to suck you off,” I say, my breath becoming uneven, “Show me you’re my pet now.”

He glides a finger against my messy hole, tracing back up to my cock rubbing against my throbbing heat in tight circles, pulling back and forth on my foreskin with each stroke. I buck against his fingers, and start to claw deeply into his back. His hand feels so good, I asked for this but I want to draw his blood for reminding me his touch can weaken me. He slides a finger down towards my cunt.

“Enough,” I release him, and pull his hand away from my crotch before he can enter me.

I push him to the forest floor and pry apart his legs, revealing his soaked pulsing tcock and cunt. I can’t hold back anymore. I’m starving for him. I look him in his eyes, and place my hand against his cheek streaked with dirt, blood, sweat, and spit. With lips barely parted, I kiss him, I drink deep the taste of his lips, his spit, his blood. I bite his lip before I move to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, biting, kissing, licking, I take in the soft sweet skin of his neck. I savor its flavor and scent as I leave behind a mark to tell him he’s mine, to tell the world he’s mine. I rip apart his undershirt so I can devour him in his entirety, as I make my way down towards his warm, throbbing boycunt. I want to consume him whole, and stain him with my hunger. My pet yelps and whines with each marking and cries out from each ravenous bite I inflict.

I pin down his thighs as I hover over his tcock. I can feel his heat on my face. I embed my nails into the tender skin of his thighs. My hot breath lands in his dark curly pubic hair. I press my lips against his inner thigh, nipping him lightly, a few warning shots, before biting down hard. He cries out to the treetops as he squirms underneath me, but I hold him down steady. I lick the bite mark and blow cool air over the tender spot, making him shiver. A hot insatiable feeling wells up from deep within my stomach and my cock aches and throbs. Finally, I envelop his cock in my mouth, sucking and stroking his pulsating bundle of nerves with my lips and tongue, drowning in the taste of him as he ruts into my face and clutches fistfuls of my long dark curls.

I release him from my mouth before sucking and teasing the swollen lips of his cunt. I want to taste all of him. My good boy grinds into me, begging for more with his puppy whimpers. I lap up his tcock with long broad strokes before quickening my pace, swirling my tongue around his raging growth. I dip my tongue down plunging into his cunt as he slams down his hips, fucking himself on my tongue. I switch between his cock and cunt, savoring both the taste of him, and the sound of his cries echoing through the forest.

I pull myself up to meet his face, and kiss him. I want him to taste himself on my lips. He looks up at me with his brown puppy eyes, and opens his mouth for me, tongue out, panting like a dog. I spit in his mouth and he takes it, swallowing and sticking his tongue out once more. I cup his face, letting him suck my thumb. I pull out and raise my hand to strike him, he flinches and I laugh. He wears such a sweet humiliated expression.

“How pitiful, be a good boy and wait here for me,” I say, petting his cheek before getting up, “and touch yourself while I’m gone mutt.”

I retrieve and don my prosthetic from my pack, as well as another piece of my leather work, a leather collar and lead. Making my way back to my pet, I take in the sight of him panting and arching his back as he strokes himself, and heat rushes through me. Filtered sunlight speckles his body. ‘My dog has spots,’ I think to myself, chuckling. His legs are open and ready for me. ‘What a pathetic mutt.’

I kneel between his legs, moving away his ‘paw’ and grind my prosthetic on his cock.

“Lift your head and stick out your tongue,” I order, buckling on his collar and lead. “You’re my dog now, my pet, my plaything. Never once were you anything but this.”

I place a finger on his tongue and pull his lead. He needn’t be told, he takes in my finger sucking and moaning, rutting himself on my prosthetic, and coating my finger with spit.

“Stroke yourself.”

I press my finger against the slick entrance of his cunt. I don’t even press in before he’s bucking his hips, fucking himself on my finger and panting. I curl my finger upwards and slowly fuck his hole, still pulling his lead. His hips are rustling the leaves beneath us, moving against my rhythm, trying to get more from me as he strokes himself faster.

“P-pl-please,” he stutters out, “another.” I cover his mouth with my hand, the lead worn around my wrist.

‘Dogs can’t speak.’

I thrust another finger in him, massaging the tender rippled flesh inside, rough and hard. I can feel his muffled moans vibrating under my rough palm. I want to hear him. I remove my hand and glide down his body until I grasp his hip. His cunt tightens on me, pulsating, milking my fingers for all the pleasure his greedy hole can get. He cries out, and I feel his warmth spray out from him onto my stomach and thighs.

“Don’t stop!” he begs, and I tug his lead sharply. He does not command me.

I pull out, spit into my hand, and coat my prosthetic with his cum and my spit. I plunge deep into him and he screams from the stretch. I slam into his cunt thrusting slow and hard, with no rest or reprieve for him to adjust to the size. His eyes roll back into his skull. He’s losing focus. ‘What a stupid dog,’ I think as I strike him with the back of my hand.

“Don’t stop touching yourself,” I growl. His hand speeds up again.

As I tug on his lead with every thrust, breathy moans escape him. I have him hold up one of his legs for me with his free hand, and the wetness spraying from his cunt soaks the harness of my prosthetic, and my stomach. I wipe it from my belly and slap him with it to punish my pet for the mess he’s made. He’s too fucked out to even wince. He moans for me at the impact. I’ve broken in my pet nicely.

The expression on his face, the sound of his cries, the sight of his throbbing swollen cock, the smell and taste of our blood staining my senses, and the base of the prosthetic grinding on my cock with each thrust lights a fire in me. I crash down on him, wrapping my arms under his shoulders and digging my nails into him. The weight of my body is pressed into his as I mercilessly fuck into him. He claws into my back and wraps his legs around my waist driving his hips into me as we howl like wild dogs.

I kiss and bite his neck as he gasps and pants in my ear. His nails in my back sting fiercely. He’s undoubtedly drawn blood. I cry out, but my pace is unwavering. My cock throbs and aches for release with every thrust. I can’t tell if the cum running down my thighs is his or mine. I use all the strength left in my body to lift him up off the forest floor. His legs still wrap around my waist and he clutches my shoulders. My ragged breaths and grunts pour from my mouth for the whole forest to hear. Hands gripping his ass, slamming him down on my prosthetic, I’m plowing up into him as he cries out. I feel his body tense and shake, his cries getting louder and louder, until he collapses onto me. I know he’s finished but I do not stop. My body aches, but I can’t stop. Pleading and sore he grasps me tightly once more.

“Please! Stop! I came! Please!” he begs, but dogs can’t speak.

I keep slamming my prosthetic into his cunt, grinding my cock against the prosthetic desperate to finish. My core tightens as I thrust into him faster, using his cunt as I please. My blood rushes to my head and cock, my heart pounds in my ears, my vision darkens, my body shakes, until suddenly, finally, I cum.

My legs buckle but I steady myself, laying my partner gently to the ground, and kissing his forehead before collapsing to the ground beside him. We’re breathless, sweat and cum soaked, and soiled with dirt and blood, but the breeze blowing through the trees cools us. I wince, noticing the sweat rolling down my face and soaking my back stinging all of my cuts and bruises. I turn to face my lover, and pull him to me. I cup his bruised face and wipe a tear stain with my thumb.

“Are you alright? Was it too much? How bad does it hurt?” The questions spill from me too quickly. How could I do all those awful things? How could I like all those awful things? He places a finger gently up to my lips silencing me.

“Yes. No. Could be worse.” He laughs, smiling at me, “It was good. You’re good.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I ask. My disregard for him from before is melting away into concern and shame.

“Just lay here a spell with me, then maybe you can roll me a smoke after we fix each other up.” He reassures me. He’s taken my shame and casted it away. I press him tighter to me.

“As you wish, you did so good for me. Thank you. Thank you.” I whisper to my lover. A tear stings my busted cheek.

I press my lips to his gently. We’re both bruised and aching with lips busted, but this gentleness and tenderness for each other overwhelms all else.

I hold him to my chest, petting and kissing his head, while he strokes my chest. We listen to the trees rustling, and a faint babbling whispering from the creek, and the steadily slowing beating in our chests. I don’t think of how long it will be before I can see him in this light, and in this clearing, or how long it will be before, in these secluded moments, I can scream to heaven he’s mine, the way I wish I could scream it to the world. In this moment time stands still, and we can stay here forever.

[halleehalfgallon]

August, by Mary Oliver

When the blackberries hang

swollen in the woods, in the brambles

nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high

branches, reaching

my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming

the black honey of summer

into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark

creeks that run by there is

this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is

this happy tongue.

[names-for-alters]

Hello one and all, alters and headmates! I am Charlie! I like to make lists! I also hoard names! Are you looking for a name? GREAT! You can send an ask and request a specific aesthetic or origin of name, or you can look at my list!

With that said…

…Cracks knuckles…

Findo Tach Tails Flicker Tracer Kat Iris Blu Brick Arlo Sammy Artie Finn Stein Aleksandr Vora Olive Luna Nyx Cyrus Qrow Orian Cello Onyx Skye Grim Opal Dawn Azure Fish Bones Poppy Bronze Eggs Sparky Specs Snickers Trout Navi Bingo Chili Bandit Stripe Busker Socks Brandy Frisky Winston Lucky Chucky Bently Judo Rusty Max Honey Indie Calypso Striker Merle Moxxie Vex Ant Bugger Bee Spider Tails Hook Indigo Amber Coco Coral Scarlet Ivory Jade Ruby Emerald Chuck Loden Copper Hamelin Neo Shepard Cinnamon Visor Macalister Soul Hack Hiccup Flynn Rider Astrid Jay Raven Robyn Bolt Dagger Viper Tracer Cornwall Flock Sapphire Crystal Ghost Mochi Trick Catra Rose Raven Flip Chani Racket Red Crimson Dragon Runt Scotch Tellie Gator Croc Crow Goat Duck Creeper Kuma Jet Jeep Draco Poppy Sombra Raine Squish Spike Blaze Ender Drake Sandy MK PJ DJ CJ MJ King Creak Shadow Clay Dusty Miles Dart Willow Antonius Husk Moth Cypher Jin Yin Yang Daisy Gray / Grey Alistair Halo Angel Cake Fennec Fox Null Lull Bastion Lucky Sun Star Cosmo Tweety Vox Nerys Sonic Bark Birch Oak Cherry Blossom Peaches Velvet Shell Coffee Valley Fang Moot Redpath Pudding X V Jr Ether Fig Trunk Joy Frogger Snowflake Snowball Snow Jumper Racket Flare Vendetta Loonie Coin Six Eleven Tropica Stelina Mojave Ink Sud Fender Zero Pollen Wysteria Page Ozias Rex Tortch Buck Nickel Stripe Lynch Tramp Wolf Pup Tank Jhariah Kharma Zenith Sparrow Prism Lemon Mune Lamb Pyke Diamond Parker Graves Fizz Nugget Melody Tink Blight Fangless Ambress Vulture Eclipse Luka Bangle Constance Constantine Sommar Babble Clank Bobble Chipper Aidan Slate Tin Twire Zephyr Silver Misty Faunus Atlas Birdie Brook Cedar Chip Coal Daisy Ember Faye Fate Fern Flint Harmony Helios Ivy Junx Kit Lyria Phoebe Piper Lady Beacon Elos Rumble Ida Cross Zed Scootie Smidge Clauger Happy Sonny Hath Soldier River Song Clawtor Videl Legen Onen Chunk Reid Pop Cobra Cash Clover Saris Volante Donna Belladonna Gale Chopper Morphias Vidia Loft Kape Levi Licker Howl Dustin Newt Creek Breezy Polaris Blight Archer Sirius Warren Dream Goon Cookie Ranger Amity Jericho Viggo Besko Asra Alice Olaf Mossfeld Issic Missy Rascal Creasy Nonya Hex Pita Miguel Manuel Rayburn Daisy Dash Lucky Becky Steele Cylo Featherstone Kingston Netherfield Reacher Saltburn Quick Rubble Dust Brimstone Humble Ado Grover Norvanos Leshy Blade Cooper Calcium

Leo

Leonardo

Lebony

Silver

Linzier

Pearl

blackberry

Tatin

Bud

Raphael

Pebble

Mina

Linda

Oolong

Daeo/Dayo/Dao

Inco

Ketlyn

Risa

Ines

Lora

Flock

Lux

Rix

Reah

Destinty

Bet

Ange

Krixa

Lalien

Gloom

Bug

Rozy

Mars

Screech

Jenny

Robert

Patrick

Pierre Rosemary

Henderson

Mayfield

Sinclair

Sullivan

Hart

Solace

Daughtler

Stoll

Gatlin

Yearwood

Amos

Graves

Rothschild

Halley

Spektor

Presley

Redd

Blackwood

Notvletti

Valerie

Milo

Marian

Lychee

Aiden

Nova

Vel

Bel

Yuri

Puro

Pluto

Ramona

Angel

Nada

Shen

Mog

Hania

Udge

Kinetic

Kikos Wathel

Dupa

Sierre

Jimor

Teddy

coc

Scara

River

Shade

Foenem

Duck

Emily

Toast

Reunna

Ichigo

Rae

Sonic

MoonL

Lennus

cabaran

Marto

Leveer

Granite

Tongle

Gavril

Luella

Malachite

Leonard

[5-and-a-half-acres]

I love your blog! I've been following you for years now, and I want you to know I look forward to each of your posts. They mark the change of seasons for me as much as the birds and bugs and plants outside my own window.

I have one question. Is it tough maintaining the property? Landscaping, maintenence, etc?

I am happy to hear that, thanks so much!

Only the front acre is a proper garden and I like a more natural look so weeds don't stand out too much. I enjoy being outside and doing stuff in the garden so it really doesn't feel like work.

The rest is mostly ponds/creek and trees I have planted over the past 30 years- all sorts of unusual ones. In the beginning it was a lot of work keeping the blackberries and grass down until the trees grew big enough to shade them out. I feel so lucky to have witnessed a field turn into a forest over that time span.

[belleandsaintsebastian]

thank you to my gorgeous beautiful nina @labyrinthgf for the tags mwahhhhh ilu xx

list your top 5 albums from your top 5 artists and have people vote on which one matches your vibe <3

tagging <3 @fatemy-friend @stillagoodwitch @steelycunt @boydykepdf @bobdylansgf @ernestonlysayslovelythings @disasterbiwriter @dthclws @stellaluna33 @stewyonmolly @boyjoan @deadpoets @fastasyoucan1999 @gapsof-sunlight @pawnshopsblue @pancakehouse @serethereal @blackberry-sunset @wereoz @1985houndsoflove @pretentiouswreckingball @georgianadarcies + anyone else who would like to I LOVE YOU I WANT TO VOTE IN YOUR POLL <3

[mxhollis]

I never hated being a girl.

I lived it, in this body that you so bluntly stated was not mine. Only a shell of the thing that was born wrong, a freak to be pitied and gawked at through the tinted glass. You paid a nickel to see me at my worst, cut in line and flashed a smile at the kid behind the booth; your misguided empathy made her laugh and you thought you were in on the joke.

But this flesh is mine, this soul is mine, and this enclosure was mine, too. It never occurred to you that I could leave, that I could go out back and scrape my knees climbing the knotted oak branches. I stained my palms picking blackberries from the bush and cheered as I splashed them clean in the creek.

You think I resent the girls who braided my hair with daisies, and garnished our potions with mud and honeysuckle? The girls who played house with me till the shadows grew long, who let me be a father, a son, a brother; never once believing the grown-ups when they'd say that "no, you can't take the makeup off, you'll have to get used to it sooner or later" and "aren't you a little too old to be playing dress up, you're practically a woman now" and "that kick to the teeth means he likes you, why on earth did you think you could hit back?"

Does it scare you when I say that no, I don't wish I was born male, because to be a girl was to be free from those make-believe standards you cling so desperately to? To be a girl meant to be joyous, to ride our bikes down the street and fall asleep laughing on someone's bedroom floor, a sugar crash with a soft landing.

Maybe I was never destined for womanhood, but my girlhood was sacred. I wrap that child up in a warm blanket and hug her tight to my chest, swearing to protect her until we take our last breath.

[keepcalmandcarriefischer]

Fox gloves and wild sweet peas

Horsetail ferns and licorice ferns and sword ferns

Blackberries and huckleberries and salmon berries

Stinging nettle and trilliums and miner's lettuce

Viny maples and Doug firs

Stumps and sticks

Grass taller than my head

And a creek running through the middle of it

[residentrookie]

thanks for tagging me @pretentiouswreckingball <33

three ships: wolfstar, jegulus, (will i be shot on sight if i say jily?)

first ship: percabeth 💗

last song: second nature by clairo (highly recommend if you are a fellow enjoyer of whimsy)

currently reading: the seven year slip! but i’m dropping everything to start intermezzo by sally rooney as soon as i get my paws on it

currently watching: schitt’s creek eps here and there

currently eating: dotz pretzels. if u know what these are then u understand why. the cinnamon sugar ones????? just bodied a costco bag of them.

currently craving: writing devastating wolfstar. hurt/no comfort. pining, yearning, longing, etc. cursed wolfstar. wolfstar stripped of joy. forbidden love wolfst—

tagging @static-radio-ao3 @a-fiery-fox @blackberry-sunset @twisted-tales-told @otrtbs

[strnza]

eliza  is:      the  dying  embers  of  a  bonfire  on  a  summer  night,  still  flickering  until  someone  stokes  it  or  smothers  it.    the  soft  &  trusted  crooning  of  someone  you  love  calling  you  ‘honey’  in  a  way  that  stills  all  time  and  worries.    soft,  worn-in  cotton  bed  sheets  so  well-loved,  they’ve  got  holes  at  the  corners.    the  one  dollar  bin  outside  a  record  store,  filled  with  deep  cuts  +  artists  that  have  been  long  forgotten,  warped  by  heat  and  weathered  by  time.    sunburnt  skin.    cooking  +  measuring  ingredients  with  your  heart.    too-ripe  blackberries.    riding  horses  bareback.    cassette  tapes.    stray  dogs  +  cats  who  don’t  show  any  interest  until  you  approach  them  first.    bloody,  broken  noses  +  scraped  knuckles  and  knees.    polaroids  stuck  into  hats,  car  sun  visors  +  wallets.    a  persistent  hunger  that  never  seems  to  be  fed.    lipstick  marks  on  cigarettes.    lipstick  marks  on  your  jawline.    salty  sea  water.    bruised  produce.    the  awe-inducing  fear  of  being  truly  seen  and  known.    love  as  power,  love  knowing  no  weakness.    impulsivity  in  action,  breathing  and  bleeding.    rust  on  the  bumper  of  a  truck.    paint  chipping  off  an  old  birdhouse.    handmade  windchimes.    hidden  creeks  that  ebb  +  flow,  regardless  of  an  audience.