#Mar 25

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Linkin Park - Numb

[through-new-eyes]

shot on an iphone xs, unedited

1/3/25

📍 kyoto garden, london

[hey-color-palettes]

color pallet for the name river?

334259 || #9fb1b8 || #5f7385 || #22203b || #3f3257

[msbarrows]

Mar 25 - much LotRO play today; for the first time in ages I actually felt like jumping on my highest level character and Doing Stuff instead of just farting around on low level alts. She is so far behind the current end game content that my next higher character was starting to lap her in location, though not in level.

Supper was more of yesterday's soup, with buttered bread, though a couple large tubs of soup went into the freezer first.

[flordemar94]

Pedro Páramo de Juan Rulfo

Ella estaba por morirse y yo en un plan de prometerlo todo.

[...] Entonces no pude hacer otra cosa sino decirle que así lo haría, y de tanto decírselo se lo seguí diciendo aún después que a mis manos les costó trabajo zafarse de sus manos muertas (p. 05).

Traigo los ojos con que ella miró estas cosas, porque me dio sus ojos para ver.

[...] Los ojos reventados por el sopor del sueño, en la canícula de agosto (p. 06).

En la reverberación del sol, la llanura parecía una laguna transparente, desecha en vapores por donde se traslucía un horizonte gris. Y más allá, una línea de montañas. Y todavía más allá, la más remota lejanía (p. 07).

Todo parecía estar como en espera de algo (p. 08).

—¿Quién es? —volví a preguntar.

—Un rencor vivo —me contestó él (p. 08).

... En tanto se nos iba el hilo de cáñamo arrastrado por el viento. "Ayúdame, Susana." Y unas manos suaves se apretaban a nuestras manos. "Suelta más hilo."

》 El aire nos hacía reír; juntaba la mirada de nuestros ojos, mientras el hilo corría entre los dedos detrás del viento, hasta que se rompía con un leve crujido como si hubiera sido trozado por las alas de algún pájaro (p. 15).

Las oraciones no llenan el estómago (p. 33).

》—Pero ella se suicidó. Obró contra la mano de Dios.

》—No le quedaba otro camino. Se resolvió a eso también por bondad (p. 33).

La tierra, "este valle de lágrimas " (p. 35).

No, no era posible calcular la hondura del silencio que produjo aquel grito (p. 35).

—Hubo un tiempo que estuve oyendo durante muchas noches el rumor de una fiesta.

》Luego dejé de oírla. Y es que la alegría cansa (p. 44).

—Murió —dije.

—¿Ya murió? ¿Y de qué?

—No supe de qué. Tal vez de tristeza. Suspiraba mucho.

—Eso es malo. Cada suspiro es como un sorbo de vida del que uno se deshace (p. 45).

Mi novia me dio un pañuelo

con orillas de llorar... (p. 49)

[theweakthatneversleeps]

Day 84 of 365

Jollibee’s Tuna Pie for Ikigai

[guerrillaboy]

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Linkin Park - Somewhere I Belong

[mistfunk]

Mistigram: if you could never make up your mind between this or that, then today might be the day for you: AdeptApril has drawn an #ANSIart screen celebrating National #Waffle Day!

[finnstansonly]

survival/evacuation funds (vetted)

Updated: 22 March 2025

Name = link to post detailing their story, verification if available ; (link) = link to fundraiser ; ~ = a campaign that has recently had to be restarted from scratch ; ** = stagnating (pls donate!!)

*note: i am not a vetter. i will keep this list updated every couple of days so the numbers on the post can accurately reflect the progress of each campaign i've listed. also, the funds on this list are not solely palestinian families, but sudanese families as well. if you are going to use #palestine pls also use #sudan.

Hala (paypal) ~ Eman Abosedo (gfm) $1,576/$50,000 ** Rana Akeela (gfm) €2,300/€50,000 ** Isra Fathi Guma Ahmed (gfm) $3,695 AUD/$9,100 AUD ** Siraj (chuffed) €4,442/€67,600 Abeer (gfm) $6,497 CAD/$75,000 CAD ** Safaa (gfm) €6,211/€60,000 ~ Hashem (gfm) £8,080/£50,000 Almadhoun Family (gfm) €12,989/€50,000 Nedaa (gfm) £10,067/£25,000 ** Sohad Mahmoud (gfm) €11,779/€20,000 ** Mahmoud Helles (gfm) €13,044/€50,000 Mahmoud Ziad (gfm) $14,923/$30,000 ** Hanaa (gfm) €15,200/€35,000 ** Fidaa (chuffed) $23,235/$100,000 ~ RESTARTED Ahmed Al-Habil (gfm) €19,313/€50,000 **

Naveen (gfm) $25,354 CAD/$50,000 CAD Sajida's Family (gfm) £15,294/£30,000 4 Sudanese Families (gfm) €31,546/€50,000 Eman Zaqout (gfm) $46,671 CAD/$80,000 CAD Asjad (gfm) $31,941/$31,000 Alaa Amsse (gfm) €35,920/€100,000 Dana (gfm) £29,015/£40,000 Ayaa (gfm) $48,009/$100,000 Laila Shaqoura (gfm) €33,790/€55,000 ** Youssef Al-Habeel (gfm) €49,349/€50,000 Ibrahim Hussein (gfm) $56,349/$100,000 Iwais Family (gfm) kr840,553 SEK/kr1.5M SEK

** ! STAGNANT CAMPAIGNS ! **

Isra Fathi Guma Ahmed (gfm) $3,695 AUD/$9,100 AUD. no donations in 2 MONTHS

Rana Akeela (gfm) €2,300/€50,000. no donation 2 MONTHS

Nedaa (gfm) £10,067/£25,000. no donation in 2 MONTHS

Mahmoud Ziad (gfm) $14,923/$30,000. no donation in 1 MONTH

Eman Abosedo (gfm) $1,576/$50,000. no donation in 15 DAYS

Sohad Mahmoud (gfm) €11,779/€20,000. no donation in 12 DAYS

Hanaa (gfm) €15,200/€35,000. no donation in 11 DAYS

Ahmed Al-Habil (gfm) €19,313/€50,000. no donation in 10 DAYS

Abeer (gfm) $6,497 CAD/$75,000 CAD. no donation in 6 DAYS

Laila Shaqoura (gfm) €33,790/€55,000. no donation in 6 DAYS

[hey-color-palettes]

Could you please do one for the name Edmund 🙏

6d5142 || #beb7af || #73849e || #353c5e || #372621

[littlesoulshine]

riding while riding

parings: dean winchester x reader

warnings: 18+, smut

the impala growls beneath you, steady and alive, the deep purr of baby's engine vibrating through your thighs as dean grips the wheel with one hand, the other locked tight around your hip. his knuckles flex, tension coiling in his arm, but he doesn’t stop you when you move, when you press your palms to his chest and sink down onto his cock, slow, hot, aching with the stretch.

“fuck,” he grits out, head knocking back against the seat, adam’s apple bobbing as his breath hitches. “you tryna kill me, sweetheart?”

he’s already wrecked, voice low and strained, but you don’t care. you can’t—not when he’s thick and deep inside you, when the heat of him is searing through your core, and his cock filling you up so good you can barely breathe. the road ahead is a blur of darkness, the moon was casting pale streaks across his face showing sweat beading at his temple and his jaw locked up tight as he fights to keep his eyes on the highway instead of you; watching you ride him, slow and greedy, dragging pleasure out of him inch by inch.

“shit,” he chokes, fingers digging into your waist, like he’s trying to keep control, like he’s not seconds from snapping. “you gotta—baby, you gotta be careful.”

but you don’t ease up. you rock into him harder, your nails scratching against his chest, and he twitches deep inside you, a sharp jerk that makes you gasp. his grip tightens, and you know it’s killing him, trying to focus, trying to keep the impala steady while you work yourself down on his cock. he’s torn between keeping you safe and giving in, and you love it; you love the way he’s struggling.

“dean,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear, breath hot and teasing. “let go.”

his restraint shatters like glass.

his hands lock tight around your waist, and suddenly you’re not in control anymore—he is, slamming you down onto him as his hips drive up, sharp and devastating, dragging wrecked little sounds from your throat. the impala swerves, just a little, tires kissing the middle yellow line before he rights her back into the lane; but fuck, neither of you care, not when he’s fucking you deep and rough, his jaw slack, his breath coming fast and broken.

“damn,” he groans, forehead pressing to your shoulder, his body burning beneath your hands, and his eyes desperately trying to say open. “you’re so—fuck—so damn tight.”

the world outside ceases to exist. it’s just this—just the raw friction, the road flying by, the sticky heat of sweat and desperation clinging to your skin. your thighs shake as he ruins you, every thrust lighting you up, shoving you closer to that edge, and your breath catching in needy little whimpers that drive him insane.

you’re almost there, right there, pleasure coiling, your body trembling.

you shatter apart with a cry, your nails biting into his shoulders, your body clenching tight around him as you fall, pleasure hitting you so hard it blanks your mind. and dean, he’s right behind you, his breath strangled, a hoarse groan ripping from his throat as he thrusts up, once, twice, then stills, buried deep as he spills inside you, heat flooding you as his whole body shakes beneath you.

for a moment, there’s nothing but ragged breathing, the rumble of the impala eating up the highway, the sticky press of your bodies locked together. you slump against his chest, his heart hammering against your ear, and his hand drifts up, fingers slipping beneath your shirt, stroking slow circles against your damp skin.

“you’re the nastiest distraction,” he mutters, voice rough, spent. but he’s smiling, his lips pressing soft to your temple, his other hand never leaving the wheel, guiding you both through the night.

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume

[msbarrows]

Have a bit of Thing A Day catch-up to do; been having a bad mental health week. Lots of finding getting out of bed difficult. All too easy once I am up to do things like game obsessively instead of tackling anything I'd actually meant to do. As far as I can reconstruct the last most-of-a-week:

Mar 21 - I'm pretty sure I went to bed at a stupid hour (because Timberborn, again) and then overslept. Leftover shepherd's pie from the freezer for supper.

Mar 22 - Woke up at a reasonable (for me) hour, and then just lay in bed for many hours before getting up. Chili from the freezer and some rice for supper, with chopped fresh tomato.

Mar 23 - I have no memory of this day. I think I did chicken strips and fries for supper? Maybe. Or was this the shepherd's pie day and the 21st was the chicken strips. Who knows. Not my brain!

Mar 24 - Slept/lay in bed until stupidly late in the day again. Did pasta with meat sauce and chicken meat balls for supper.

Mar 25 - Managed to get up out of bed pretty early in the day, but it was because I'd barely slept. Had breakfast and then went back to bed and read for a while and then napped. Processed a bunch of meat my brother bought yesterday into 1 lb lots for freezing. Made beef stew from some of it.

Mar 26 - Sleep schedule still whacked, got up early again and then took a nap in mid-day. Did burgers & fries and a tomato-avocado-cucumber salad for supper.

Some time in the last few days I baked a loaf of cracked wheat bread, but I don't remember which day. And I might have partially cleaned the upstairs bathroom? Unless that was before this week from limbo.

It's now passed midnight; time to hit the sack before I succumb to temptation and not go to bed.

I think the lassitude and brain fog this week was largely hormones - I've hit the 'the engine doesn't always turn over' point of aging and menstruation, and after several months of very happily not having that to deal with, guess what started a couple day ago. Yeah. And the energy level and braining have rebounded noticeably since it started. Hope it fucks off again, permanently, 40+ years of this nonsense is long enough.

[mikeywayarchive]

Instagram story by mikeyway

[Mar 19, 2025]

[guerrillaboy]