free my girl she did all that shit but if she was a man you'd be all over him AND his crimes

Small joys on Tumblr:

When your notes make a perfect cat

Hey there, I've just posted a new article on my blog all about understanding the reputation of life cycle. Take a moment to read, and feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.

REJOICE! It's vampire lovers season!

carry yourself through the frozen desert, empty your thoughts into the well of pressure (x)

finally tried my hand at some 3L desert duo designs (ft. matching back scars) !!

🎣lure me in, baby!

More colorsss

absolutely insane i get to draw headscarves again

Here are some sharks I made out of felt. They were mostly sewn during my Psychology and English classes

[Image ID: felt sharks lined up on a nautical themed tablecloth. Right to left: grey great white, purple great white, sparkly black great white,sparkly black hammerhead, blue hammerhead. End ID]

And heres the pattern

[Image ID: sewing patterns for sharks cut out of graph paper. One for a great white shark, the other for a hammerhead. End ID]

Everything leads to everything else, following the same patterns if you happened to look closely enough.

- Alone With You in the Ether, Olivie Blake

When I’m on TikTok I wear headphones

When I’m watching YouTube shorts it’s at full volume in an empty room

When I’m watching Insta reels I don’t use sound at all

I don’t know why it��s like this but it is

boothill is many things. a gunslinging outlaw, a ninety percent metal man, someone who’s attitude definitely reflects in his appearance, but most importantly; a nuisance. a thorn in your side. an ear grating bother. he knows this and he takes advantage of it, especially when your hands are tied up with plenty other business. unfortunately, things took a more literal sense.

you had been sipping a glass of something at a table in a small saloon, celebrating a coworkers birthday who you couldn’t even remember the name of but it was an excuse to get out and, besides, they said they’d pay for the first round of drinks so who were you to decline? people had been dancing in front of you and perhaps your chosen activity of observing had gotten too meticulous as you hadn’t noticed the slinking shadow drift past, nimble fingers dropping a pill of god knows what into your drink. the sweet and citrus flavour of the cocktail masking whatever taste could’ve been left as you continued drinking with your head in your hand. as you got to the bottom of the glass, your eyelids felt heavy and thus did you take the cue to get going home. after bidding a couple farewells and good wishes to the birthday person who’s face was a blur, you stepped out into the cold breeze feeling sluggish; as if you’d had ten drinks and not just one. squinting, you steadied your breath before walking, neglecting to notice that same figure sauntering up behind you. it was the smell of gunpowder and musk that alerted you, spinning around faster than you should have and nearly hitting the ground if he hadn’t caught you in time with a half-hearted chuckle. bubbles clouding your vision, you could only internally groan at the smatter of white, black, and red before you were out cold.

coming to, the first thing you noticed were the tight bindings keeping your body uncomfortably still. thick rope wrapped around your torso and wrists, forbidding you from moving even and inch. wherever he had taken you, it was dark and damp with only the sound of your breathing to keep you company up until the telltale ‘click’ of his shoes and the concurrent ‘ting’ of his spurs. a cold metal finger slid across your chin and only then did you notice how blazingly hot you felt all over. you sucked in a breath, waiting for him, boothill, to say something but he uttered no more than a low hum as his fingers drew icy patterns down your neck and chest. a shudder wracked your body and he moved in front of you, his eyes holding some sort of emotion you weren’t quite familiar with on his face; somewhere between his ‘hand it over’ greed and ‘nice shot’ dry praise. he settled between your now untied, when did he do that you wondered, legs with his metal frame pressed firm into you. never before had you considered the intricacies of his body but with him so close and a different kind of pressure against your crotch, you figured he had some sort of… attachment. fear whipping through your chest, it was then you realized what exactly this evenings plans were for him and they were punctuated with his usual tacky speech.

“c’mon, darlin’, let’s play a bit. this cowboys gotta bullet special for ya’.”

updated Sleight ref!!

proof that your music taste is unoriginal and predictable and I know everything about you. the lines lead both ways.

elendira as the v148 shoot , ft maison margiela

i said this in the tags of another post but. the way that the desert always seems to PHYSICALLY pop up whenever scar and grian are together is insane. first them finding the only tiny patch of desert in double life, and now a desert appearing in front of them right as they're laughing together and riding on a llama camel. like we all know this but MAN. they seriously never left the desert. it's become a symbol of their past together, and they can't escape it.