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#馃拰
bulwarkstaffa day ago
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tumblr will talk about all the gay shit in a new episode no matter what. girls a man just died
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hitsbonga day ago
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omg there are adult women who truly think and live like this as if its not fucking insane.....
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newtlesbian2 days ago
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imagine if your city was saved from certain doom but by a robot named The Rock Em Sock Em Racial Slurinator Bot 3000
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woorichil2 days ago
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bokutobabie5 hours ago
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Bokuto is coming home as fast as he can to bred you. All he wants to do is empty his beeg breeder balls in you and fill you up all night long that your legs are shaking and his cum is leaking out of you and he pushes it back in making you clench around nothing. - 馃挮
pls all it takes is one text:
鈥榤 horny k艒, come home soon :(
and he鈥檚 fumbling over his weights and the rest of his equipment, cock already half hard in his shorts as he thinks about everything he鈥檚 been dreaming about all day. his balls ache, and he swears he can feel the cum weighing him down. he needs to get home, needs to bury himself all the way into you and empty them deep inside, over and over until you鈥檙e both oversensitive and too fucked out to go on :((
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keeper0fthestars6 hours ago
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GASP! Girl please 馃槱
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AHahaha @mourningbirds1 you caught that tag did you? 馃槍 Thank you for the ask!! 馃挄 I鈥檓 so happy you want to know about the nonsense that goes on in my head.
Girl listen I have very loose thot here - a friends to lovers situation that starts with Javi being your neighbour - and it all stemmed from a prompt that @yespolkadotkitty sent me a while ago鈥
鈥淚 can鈥檛 keep kissing strangers in the dark and pretending they鈥檙e you鈥
鈥斺
You're still not sure what he does for a living but his hours are long and the walls are thin and you have some idea what he does to decompress because it鈥檚 not that much different than your own coping strategies and over the next few months, an easy friendship evolves.
There was the night he found himself sitting at your kitchen table in an adrenaline induced haze after a bust gone wrong and with whiskey on his breath he鈥檚 apologizing for dripping blood on your floor. You just wave it off and press a fresh glass into his good hand. You know better than to notice the dark circles under his eyes or ask what the other guy looks like. He watches your gentle fingers at work cleaning and bandaging the gash on his knuckles with smooth ease, like you鈥檝e done this a thousand times. So mesmerized by your soothing touch, he forgets the whiskey altogether until he sees you reach for his hand. His brain takes too long to realize you鈥檙e reaching for the booze, not his hand. You down it in one gulp and refill the glass for him, ripping open a box of butterfly stitches. His eyes are on the smudge of lipstick on the edge of his glass, the shape of your bottom lip left behind. Dregs of whiskey blur down the side and he wants to taste it.
And not the whiskey.
You give him a frozen bag of peas to help the swelling over his cheekbone and he does as he鈥檚 told, wondering why your first aid stash contains 8 bottles of hemostatic agent and fishing line, wondering how you know what kind of whiskey he drinks, wondering why you care about him like this.
Fast forward a couple more weeks鈥
He knows you had a date tonight with that accountant again. Fourth date this month if he was counting. which he鈥檚 not.
So he definitely wasn鈥檛 expecting to hear you climbing the stairs by yourself at such an early hour.
He has no right to the sheer relief that settles over him. But the pang of his misguided heart is getting harder to ignore when he鈥檚 wishing it was his fourth date with you instead, so he washes the sting of it down with something equally harsh. He doesn鈥檛 worry about you when you go out no matter how plain and boring your dates are with their polo shirts and obnoxiously expensive shoes (but the pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray on his coffee table tell a different story)
Then he hears your apartment door slam louder than usual. judging by your cursing, cupboard doors echoing in your kitchen, the evening didn鈥檛 go well and he鈥檚 off his couch and across the hall without even realizing it.
You鈥檙e standing there on the other side of the threshold, barefoot, in a dress he鈥檚 never seen before, the glass in your hand is half full and it鈥檚 not the cheap stuff. The furious storm in your eyes had already spilled over at some point and smeared your mascara.
There鈥檚 a special place in hell for anyone that makes you cry, he thinks, eyes darting across your features, sweeping for any other indicator that might require a little interference in a certain accountant鈥檚 affairs. Javi comes up short and he can鈥檛 decide if that鈥檚 good for him or not.
Once again his chest floods with the overwhelming need to protect you like you鈥檙e his.
He steps into your space, and it鈥檚 all the coaxing you need. Your face crumbles and he slips the glass from your hand, setting it down on the tiny hall table before gathering you in his arms, soothing your shuddering breaths against his chest.
you don鈥檛 see the seething rage darkening his eyes, trembling just underneath the surface.
鈥榃hat did he do?鈥
鈥楬e had a wife.鈥
鈥斺
In conclusion this is nothing but pure self indulgence where javi desperately wants to be the one to show you that you deserve better 馃槍
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gertyorkess2 days ago
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This show is weird, but Guillermo couldn't be Nandor's horse reincarnated because we saw the ghost of his horse.... also the one time Nandor said he treated Guillermo as a son, the joke was literally because he doesn't do that in any shape or form. Why are reddit people like this
they will make up anything to keep them from being gay
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medleya month ago
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jellyfish lighting by geraldine gonzalez
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@romcommunist //Jenny Slate//Unknown-from Pinterest//Mary Oliver//Keith Haring
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tearstainonletter4 months ago
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Mina Loy, from The Collected Poems of Mina Loy;聽鈥淭hree Moments in Paris,鈥 // Eva Antonini // Benjamin Alire S谩enz,聽鈥淭o the Desert鈥 // Eisha Tandon, from 鈥淎 poem for a moment with you鈥 // Emery Allen, 鈥淏ecome鈥
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bulwarkstaffa day ago
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the colin robinson community is in shambles
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wvterways2 months ago
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read this again.
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newtlesbian2 days ago
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who is that kaiju with the eight pack and whats her number
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butternaana year ago
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theindianexpress / pascalchampion / hozier, 鈥榯o noise making鈥 / titanic (1997) dir. james cameron / my chemical romance, 鈥榮ing鈥 / abc news / dead poets society (1989) dir. peter weir / bertolt brecht
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guroluv4 months ago
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sollunas2 months ago
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do you ever realize how beautiful your name looks when someone else writes it down. no matter if it鈥檚 in print or cursive, pen or pencil, on a thank you card or a love letter, i just adore how my name looks when people write it in their own handwriting. we all have our own personal, identifiable way of how we write things and that makes it feel all the more special and personal. if a thousand people wrote my name on a slip of paper and my mom was one of them, i could identify which one she wrote in a heartbeat
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gertyorkess15 hours ago
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Ep 2x10 had Guillermo leaving, Nandor having a mini meltdown, and Guillermo coming back to save him. Ep 3x10 has Nandor leaving... more parallelisms????
something something guillermo still hasn鈥檛 had his breaking point this season . thoughts.
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medleya month ago
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https://www.instagram.com/p/CTASQmSFKJ6/
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liriostigre2 months ago
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what are ur fave poems of all-time?
hi 馃拰 here are some:
鈥淟ove After Love鈥 by Derek Walcott
鈥淗anging Fire鈥 by Audre Lorde
鈥淢ayakovsky鈥 by Frank O'Hara
鈥淩ain鈥 by Roberto Bola帽o
鈥淲ild Geese鈥 by Mary Oliver
鈥淪pring Torrents鈥 by Sara Teasdale
鈥淭ulips鈥 by Sylvia Plath聽
鈥淪ummer Morning鈥 by Mary Oliver
鈥淵ou Are Tired (I Think)鈥 by E. E. Cummings
鈥淓mergency Management鈥 by Camille Rankine
鈥淭hanksgiving 2006鈥 by Ocean Vuong
鈥淪uicide in the Trenches鈥 by Siegfried Sassoon
鈥淲arning鈥 by Jenny Joseph
鈥淸i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]鈥 by E. E. Cummings
鈥淟ove Sorrow鈥 by Mary Oliver
鈥淐onversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre)鈥 by Warsan Shire
鈥淟itany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out鈥 by Richard Siken
鈥淧ig鈥 by Hieu Minh Nguyen
鈥淭he Thing Is鈥 by Ellen Bass
鈥淢ad Girl's Love Song鈥澛燽y聽 Sylvia Plath
鈥淭he Century鈥檚 Decline鈥 by Wislawa Szymborska
鈥淎 Primer For The Small Weird Loves鈥 by Richard Siken
鈥淯npainted Door鈥 by Louise Gl眉ck
鈥淪pring has come back again鈥 by Rainer Maria Rilke
鈥淗omesickness鈥 by Marina Tsvetaeva
鈥淒on't Hesitate鈥 by Mary Oliver
鈥淧oem for Haruko鈥 by June Jordan
鈥淭o Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song鈥 by Mary Oliver
鈥淓dward the Confessor鈥 by Eileen Myles (under the cut bc i couldn't find it online)
鈥淓dward the Confessor鈥 by Eileen Myles聽 聽
(content warning:聽graphic description of sexual activity at the end of the poem. i added *** right before that part just in case.) I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It鈥檚 really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don鈥檛 do it well. She didn鈥檛 leave her wallet or us in a store. I鈥檓 just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It鈥檚 the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can鈥檛 quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. *** And there was鈥 this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can鈥檛 do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don鈥檛 get out of here I鈥檒l call the cops. Don鈥檛 call the cops we鈥檒l go, we鈥檒l leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn鈥檛 have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn鈥檛 believe my eyes. I was scared too.
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