#I'll be contemplating

[mentallyillastrophelfreak]

It's December, and I'm still a James kinnie.

I still don't have a Regulus Black in my life.

I still don't have a Sirius Black in my life.

I still don't have a Remus Lupin in my life.

I still don't have a Marlene Mckinnon in my life.

Not even a Pandora Rosier.

Basically, I'm still single.

[itsthislake]

“Icarus.”

it's all about freedom really

Credit goes to An Sifakah for the poem. Enjoy!

Support me on Ko-fi maybe?

[lunacias]

but we'll never be rid of each other

[alicornze7]

Dumb thought:

what if they did an eye transplant

Carnival au belongs to @sm-baby

[zephyrine-gale]

kazuscara | happy valentines day to them

[sillyfairygarden]

90 minute leyendecker study b4 bed. heard cleo has a cat cafe this season :swoons:

[fictionadventurer]

I think I underestimated how cool it is that Little House books are a "woman remembers her childhood" children's classic by an author from a working-class and rural background. Most working-class books of the genre have urban settings, and most rural girlhood classics come from a family that's in a fairly stable community--maybe not rich, but comfortable enough that they don't have to worry about whether they'll make it through a winter.

Laura Ingalls grew up dirt poor in a family that knew how to grow or build or hunt or make everything that they needed, because they had to. Yet when she grew up, she got into a position where she could publish about it. Which is pretty astounding, because people in her situation are usually too busy doing the farmwork to write about it--they don't have connections to the publishing industry. Yet she did, so we get to hear from someone who knows that farm and small-town setting intimately, and not because she grew up and and ran off to the city as soon as she could escape, but because she still lives it and loves it and advocates for it.

She knows the details of that life and loves it. Like, she genuinely cares about raising the chickens, not as a housewife's hobby, but as an important source of meat, eggs and money for the family. It's grounded, earthy, sensible, but also romantic, because she while she's doing farm work or house work she's noticing the little moments of beauty or thinking about the big issues of life. But it took a long series of coincidences to get this ordinary farm wife into a position of wanting to write, being able to write, and having a national audience for her writing, so I just want to appreciate how amazing it is that it happened.

[mourningmaybells]

[alackofghosts]

she'll always be his baby tho 😌

[aelisinsims]

recent progress ^^

[miguel-owhora]

not to spam post but hardcore thinking about Micah being wedged between the gang's two biggest members, Arthur and Bill, and letting both men have their way with him. He'd be stuffed on both ends, taking Bill's cock down his throat and Arthur up his ass.

I can't stop imagining Bill squeezing his head with his thighs; not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough to really emphasize just how physically powerless he'd be against them. Micah wouldn't be able to properly breathe, ragged and heavy as the burly man forces his fat cock down his throat, giving a light squeeze to the faint bulge of his throat. How Micah would slobber around him, flushed across his face, maybe with a few tears. His eyes would be dark with arousal and half-lidded, absolutely loving the taste of Bill on his tongue. His nose would be buried into his nest of dark pubes with each thrust, Bill's mighty hands gripping his head in place, forcing him to breathe him in, but fuck if he doesn't love it.

But it's hard to solely focus on the big cock in his mouth, when there's an equally big cock stretching him open. Micah wouldn't just be moaning because of Bill, no, for he also sings a chorus for Arthur. For Arthur and the way he grips Micah's waist with rough, calloused fingers, holding onto the pudgy waist and fucking into him as if it's the last thing he'll ever do. How his balls smack against the curve of his ass, how he fails to hide his low groans and curses, fingers tightening their hold on Micah as he fucks into him, splitting open his gummy walls and warm cavern, feeling his ass bounce against his sharp thrusts.

It's a position none of the men would ever imagine they'd be in, never mind at the same time. But none complain, because it's hard to complain when all you can do is moan and chase that hedonistic feeling, even if it's in the form of some outlaw.

[martyryo]

Him being cunty, him slaying, him mothering blah blah blah you get the point.

[0ann3]

Slip Up: make a careless error

And they all made a deal just so Azul can make at least three people shut up about the whole thing - the end

Anyway, inspired by one of the prompts in the alphabet challenge I did for my ocs and from something that I actually witnessed irl LMAO

Bonus: Azul moments before this disaster

And then this guy proceeded to practice calling Deuce that in his head until he meets up with the group and remembered that he needs to talk to him for something

______

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity

[whuuuuuuhhh]

if the shoe fits

[t-u-i-t-c]

"My... Wheel..."

[juno-stuffs]

was thinking about tsoa and made a bracelet based off it