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#this**
iameveryoneiwas 1 hour
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馃挅馃鉁笍馃悵
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axisplazaradio 1 hour
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gallagher practice!
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puppyswitch3 3 hours
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Playing an angry game with my boyfriend while I鈥檓 at his place hoping he takes it out on me later.
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starlight-savegery 5 hours
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im fucjkingh
drunk
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deepersea 1 day
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(voice of a guy who really hates himeru) he's so fake i'd edge him until he shattered and lost his dignified and lofty whatever air and until he started crying. amen
[@lobotdolly]
ahhh, of course. the repressed man's biggest appeal. breaking his composure. fucking him so good he cries. the good stuff. chef's kiss.
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pissywritings 1 day
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A preadolescent education in iconography, taught subliminally by his parents
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iameveryoneiwas 22 hours
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The neighbours are being so loud rn ... ;//
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floydsteeth 1 day
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What am I being forced to watch
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"Imagination never takes, it only gives."
Edward Art.
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x-heesy 1 day
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馃お
馃槣
It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them. -Ralph Waldo Emerson 馃馃徑
饾櫤饾殥饾殰饾殰饾殠饾殰 饾櫟饾殬饾殯 饾殎饾殬饾殰饾殠饾殰 饾殝饾殺 饾櫚饾殯饾殱 饾櫝饾殠饾殭饾殜饾殯饾殱饾殩饾殠饾殫饾殱, 饾櫚饾殮饾殲饾殜饾殯饾殥饾殲饾殰 饾櫡饾殠饾殜饾殶饾殠饾殫
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plumeandparchments 2 days
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April 29, 2024 (Monday)
06:51 pm, At bed
So tell me, what if everything will not hold?
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pretty-inn-peace 2 days
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If your woman tells you her brake light is out MONDAY morning and you do nothing ALL WEEK; then on Friday she gets a ticket. Sunday, one of her church brother notices and tells her follow me to Auto Zone and he fixes it in 3 minutes. Don鈥檛 be mad at yo woman, be mad at yourself. Never give somebody else the chance to play hero to YOUR PERSON!
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musementality 2 days
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A little teaser, but all the anonymity, still. Hi tumblr.
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iameveryoneiwas 2 days
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2 more from 2nite 馃檲鉁笍
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somestorythoughts 2 days
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Once a book is out in the world, the author pretends to let go. Stories, after all, are for the people who need to hear them. We have to let go of a story, give up the reins, when we ask it to be read. We pretend it's like making any other product, bread for the hungry or coats for the cold. But what no author admits is that it's not like that at all. Stories are not made of flour or wool. Stories, real stories, are made with a sliver of yourself.
The purpose for stories is what readers will make of them. But the reason, the desperate need, is a splinter in the author alone. A good story gets under your skin, because that's where all good stories start.
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