#the wind blows white

[abeautifulrayofsunshine]

S1E4

[new-world-mutation]

She was a fairy

[autumnhobbit]

gotta be real i’m having a great day today

[misterlemonztenth]

10-13-24 | by MalikaFavre. misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive

[giffypudding]

Something wicked comes this way

[misterlemonzmen]

03-03-25 | A Complete Unknown. MalikaFavre. MisterLemonzMen.tumblr.com/archive

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent things.. mostly just writing screenshots lol

[wolfclad]

"What if they kissed?" ( for Pat or Cam, dealers choice👀 )

Here was the cure for a hangover: a slow and mechanical climb to the highest elevation, lungs brimming with pine-drenched mountain air. A silver hip flask passed between gloved hands, a shared nip of spiced rum. The hair of the dog that did the biting could only help them after last night’s frivolities.

Farkas leaned back into the metal-framed seat, his goggles reflecting the brilliant blue of a largely cloudless sky. Despite the white eye of the sun watching them, a frigid breeze scalded every inch of exposed skin, causing the ski lift to sway as it ferried its passengers skyward.

A growing sense of anticipation seeped into the quiet spaces between them, lurking behind the growling wind and the chugging of the lift’s motors. Farkas was inclined to blame a rise in adrenaline – the peak loomed ahead, promising them a sporting downhill sprint. It was surely that, and not a byproduct of last night when his whiskey-soaked gaze had laid too heavily, and took long, on Cameron. Cameron, with his acid-pop of eyeshadow, the crop-top that exposed his midriff. Cameron, whose grin had been painted with a wicked glint when he had caught Farkas staring. Cameron, who did not protest now that Farkas’ arm was slung along the back of the shared chair, resting only an inch from his jacketed shoulders.

The atmosphere only deepened when the lift jerked to a stop mid-air, halting with a heavy clunk. For the third time this ascent, they dangled amid the treetops, the ground beneath their boards a jagged sprawl of untouched powder and razor-edged shadow.

“Bet some welder’s done a shoddy job,” Farkas remarked slyly, his words hanging in a mist between them. Even as he spoke, his attention dropped to the hillside below, to the untamed slope that veered away from the maintained runs and into the wilds.

“I’m gonna get a headstart,” he continued. “If my old knees can take it.”

Off-piste, he meant. Dangerous, unpredictable. Exhilarating. Pushing the safety bar up, he leaned precariously forward to refasten his boot into place. Only then did he pause, a flicker of something daring written into half-obscured features as he looked at Cameron.

It was impulsive. Born perhaps from the tension that dogged them, his own uncertainty of its origins. Or maybe it was the way the unfiltered sunlight caught in golden hair, how Cameron’s lips curved upward, his tongue undoubtedly loaded with some clever retort. Beautiful, almost unbearably so.

Without hesitation, Farkas kissed him. Close-mouthed but firm, lingering too long for it to be in jest. He had hit his mark, managing to avoid knocking their goggles together, though there was no escaping the scrape and scuff of his beard’s frosted bristles against Cameron’s chin.

“See you at the bottom, bud.”

He flashed a wolfish grin and then, without hesitation, pushed off. Wind rushed past, roaring in his ears as he dropped like a stone. Farkas’ board hit deep powder, his landing announced by a muted thud, the impact absorbed by a practised bend of his knees. Those suffering joints ached their protest as he shot forwards – carried by his fall’s momentum – he carved through the snow, the backdrop of snow-bent pines passing in a blur. Farkas smiled all the while. On his lips, he could taste second-hand the minty balm of chapstick.

[fromtheseventhhell]

Happy 2024, the year we're going to get TWOW news 🤗

[sesshy380]

Look at my 'amazing' photos I call this first one '...we just fucking plowed the driveway yesterday...'

And this lovely masterpiece is 'If you look behind the plowline you can see the deer trails'

[thewingedwolf]

when u tell someone who hasn’t had to apply for a job in a while “the interview process is like 6 weeks atp” they don’t believe you but a lot of employers will wait like 2 weeks to follow up, and they always need to do multiple rounds of interviews which takes a week for each round, and then there’s two more weeks of dead silence before you hear back. sometimes you’ll apply for something in january and they will call you up in the summer like “hey you still want the job” it’s crazy. they’re out here putting desk clerks through two phone interviews and two in persons at two different locations. they make the pages interview TWICE and they also have to do TWO sorting tests!! that job pays well below minimum wage, it’s a job meant for retirees and high school students why do you interview them like it requires a mlis

[caterjunes]

well. i finally got up the courage to use the electric snowblower my brother-in-law got me when we moved here a year ago. because shoveling is too strenuous now. and it turns out using the snowblower, although much simpler than i'd feared, is also too strenuous. so that's great.

[newbiecitrusauthor]

Imagine having a perverted ghost obsessed with exposing you. They gradually turn you into the town whore.

It starts with your clothes disappearing. You go to your closet and all you have for bottoms are skirts. Your panties and bras disappear one by one until you just stop wearing them.

Whenever you walk by a man in public, your skirt blows up whether there's wind or not. Every man in town has seen your pussy by now. Many of them see it daily.

If you're wearing white, you can guarantee you'll have water spilled on you at some point during the day. People like to joke about your free wet tshirt contests.

Your shirt unbuttons itself while you talk to people. Most people don't mention it anymore. They just stare at your bare tits until you realize.

People in town trade the best stories of seeing you naked. That time your bikini fell off at the beach and you couldn't find it and the day the wind blew your sundress fully off at the town fair are top favorites.

Eventually, people get bolder. They start taking photos of your clothing mishaps. The ghost is always sure to hold your skirt up long enough for them to get a good shot. Pictures of your ass, tits, and pussy are everywhere.

Not only do they not tell you when your shirt falls open, people start to grope you. It's not even worth fighting it. You let them feel you up until they've had their fill. Eventually, people don't even pretend they need to talk to you. They come to see you just to play with your tits.

The ghost doesn't even need to lift your skirt anymore. People in town will lift it up just to squeeze or slap your ass.

You get used to being fingered out in public. On the bus, in line at the store, even at work. Everyone has seen your pussy anyway.

People start licking your pussy every time you ride the bus. You sit with your legs open so people can taste you on their morning commute. You don't remember what it was like to ride the bus without a tongue inside you.

Every man in town as fucked you at some point. Most of the women too. Instead of paying at the store, you bend over and let anyone present abuse your pussy. You lose count of how many men shove their dick inside you daily.

Your porn becomes the town's main export. Videos of you being fucked in every possible location are all over the internet. People travel to town just to fuck you. Instead of shaking hands, you introduce yourself by spreading your legs.

[wolfclad]

✶ a small starter for @luminarot

The mountain village slept beneath the velvet stretch of night, its sparse lights glinting faintly through the darkened pines. Frigid air bit at their cheeks red as they trudged through the snow, their boots crunching a steady rhythm on the frost-rimed trail, their breath escaping them in short, silvery bursts. Cameron’s laugh broke the quiet first – a rich, unabashed sound that echoed through the stillness like a shot of whisky in the veins. Farkas, trailing a half-step behind, couldn’t help the crooked grin tugging at his lips as he watched Cameron swing an empty beer bottle in his hand, the last drops long gone, but the revelry still brewing in his veins.

“C’mon, wild thing, let’s get you home,” Farkas rumbled, his tone rough-edged but warm, as if his own gait wasn’t equally unsteady and liquor-laden.

Cameron halted abruptly, wheeling around with the drunken balance only the reckless seemed to master. His bluer-than-blue eyes, still sharp even in their haze, caught the moonlight filtering through the firs. Farkas felt his breath snare in his throat – a quiet, affectionate snag in his chest. The space between them seemed warmer suddenly, charged with the electric hum of proximity, and he stepped forward and curled his hands gently around Cameron’s shoulders.

“You need rest if you’re going to keep up with me tomorrow,” Farkas muttered, his breath curling with the ghost of a chuckle. Cameron, the decorated athlete, could out-board him even on three hours of sleep while rocking a hangover, but Farkas enjoyed this excuse to linger close, to tease.