Tumgik
#lsr
doctor-dt · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
he is watching tiktoks
6K notes · View notes
ladysilverraven · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LSR_Raven
DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/ladysilverraven
Instagram: https://instagram.com/ladysilverraven
89 notes · View notes
snartterrill · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Leonard Snart Rewatch: The Flash, 1.22
173 notes · View notes
babyheroeclipseweasel · 3 months
Text
Biologa con otros biólogos o se aprovecha de los simios.
¡Feliz día del biólogo? Hoy en especial a los biólogos marinos.
3 notes · View notes
expressions-lsr · 1 month
Text
On Days to Come
By Anvi Sonkar
On days to come, it will turn ugly again, radio silence, robbing of our mutual mates but mostly knowing it is what it always was. rose stains on your ran down cup of tea and cigarettes, I share them ever so politely with a sickness in my head; the salt cuts us hard and like the waters, we persist when we trade are glasses for ever so melted ice over gin and lime or when I take your hand and you promise to never let me go, do you think they see us? when the bookstores are closed and we run in the rain, half a mile, do you think they notice? When we dance, your feet over mine and my heart scarring because it’s the last night before it all turns ugly again. your birthday toast, I so often sit with and eulogize, your mother’s china that is scarred of the fifteen year old wound on the crest of your left shoulder blade, your father’s word, oh, that double edged sword I’ve learnt to swing past but deep flows the guilt, under graves of graves, for all what was fought for, for all misery of mutiny that I swallow in the name of Machiavellian distort, it rots us until everything we touch turns ugly. I refuse to return your books and you keep mine close to those healed burn wounds, ties the faulty fallacy of them being pieces of us we trade. you refuse to call me anymore and yet I sit in a hallow building with ghosts for friends, knowing not a day would go by where I’d not pick up; six years of faulty exchanges, in the books of sins, lies and altered truth, there goes the burning bridge of you and I. seven months in strawberry fields, as the world fell apart, we crafted letters of deep devotion in the name of Christ; we were never religious but grazing through the long grown grasses through the winter’s nights, nothing fell short of a life of such sweet decadence and a clocking grenade on our arms, coiled. On days to come, ten will remain, each meal shared over a year’s strange familiarity, each will be marked by the oldest of colognes and greys of our hair. after all of it, after days of sitting by the phone, it will ring, thanking for never letting you go, and a book in the mail, with a devout eulogy, of all the words that couldn’t teach us love, of all the idler dreamers and their ungodly Gods, of all the dogs caught beneath the landslide, and the letter oh so wounded, it only says, “on days to come, will it all turn ugly again?"
5 notes · View notes
postpunkindustrial · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Lesser -Excommunicate The Cult Of The Live Band 12"
Lesser was part of
Lesser was part of that Late 90's early 2000's intersection between Electronic music, Noise and Leftfield Experimentalism music (See ZipperSpy, Kid 606 Etc.) Released on Vinyl communication in 1996 and is worth a listen.
Get Welcome to the American Experience a Cd that contains the tracks from Excommunicate The Cult Of The Live Band plus other tracks from my Google Drive HERE
11 notes · View notes
c4ali5s · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
43 notes · View notes
scottphotoco · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Still counting down to Speed Week 2022 with photographs from years past. This one from 2017 shows the really beautiful ‘36 custom known as “Miss Scarlet” seen on the salt. Yes, there are cars going 300-400+ miles an hour in the background but this one just looks so perfect even sitting still. Thank you @kipperstrucks for sharing this beautiful build on the salt. #bonneville #saltflats #speedweek #hotrod #hotrodculture #LSR #racing #racingculture #carsofinstagram #analog #film #ishootfilm #graflex #largeformat #kodak #kodakprofessional #blackaandwhite #monochrome #ford #scottphotoco www.ScottPhoto.co (not .com) ©2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED (at Bonneville Salt Flats) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgcqJZ_PbFu/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
23 notes · View notes
kimgram · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
kim garam and kim chaewon 💗💗
3 notes · View notes
simonettaddams · 1 year
Text
Post#60
flickr
Cute but Dangerous
--------------------------------
LsR - Sexy Enunha Suit Tres Chic
Sexy Enunha Suit Tres Chic
flickr
Other:
[BELANTTI] Emo Girl
flickr
Stealthic - Blight @ The Fifty
flickr
Six Feet Under - Valak Face Chain
flickr
Many thanks to my sponsor LsR
My flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/195623040@N08/52535796088/in/dateposted-public/
3 notes · View notes
lltbll · 1 year
Text
Untitled
flickr
Sexy Enunha Suit Tres Chic
flickr
2 notes · View notes
ladysilverraven · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LSR_Raven
DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/ladysilverraven
Instagram: ladysilverraven
55 notes · View notes
snartterrill · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Leonard Snart Rewatch: The Flash, 1.22
109 notes · View notes
lisiere-collectif · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
expressions-lsr · 4 months
Text
When the Goddesses are Invisible
By Navya Ojha
Dangling mid-air, suspended, 
Limbs the aerial roots of the banyan,
Bunched-up, knotted, huge nonetheless. 
A gust of wind blows, sudden, notorious
Activity jerks them, a wooden tap
On the trunk, this mortal, deciduous
Hypnosis: I am become tree, 
But I dream like a woman.
Lunged by the limb, I feel myself
Thudding down a flight of stairs into
A cesspool of guttural,
Abysmal blackness, my identity, that of
The undeniable wrench
Of the umbilical cord. Lately,
I feel like the rind of the womb
Encloses me, muffling my voice into
A rhythmic whimper of sorts. 
I am pregnant, with all the women
I have been and will ever be. I know extensively
Of Naidu, Phule, Irigaray,
Of Christeva, the Queen of Jhansi, the great
Panchali; I know of my mother, and her mother,
And her mother! In many ways, I am them. 
I am also, live woman jumping into pyre,
Twenty-one, noticed, and violated. 
Memory has a chokehold on me. What use 
Is knowing, if history sits on my chest,
Steady, strangling, pinching nose shut. 
A while ago, I dreamt all my 
Teeth were falling out, rhythmic,
Satisfying, plop-plop-plop, I feel time
Calcifying into milky chunks, and 
Passing my body by. Everyday is the same, 
The knowing and the knowing and the knowing,
Pinned down like a thumb tack, 
All this genius wasted—he sits on the throne
My mother and her mother and her mother 
And I, not to mention, I, built for him!
They say man accords meaning; I am woman
And I say, I have the names of all my Gods wrong!
They stare down at me, and I lower my eyes,
Shame takes over. My God has always been man,
And I have struggled to make him love me,
Offering in hand, always. He flickers like a blinding
Candle in the wind. I can only sob
Like a fool when he turns to ember. It takes
Bribery to hold him down. Or he burns my face. 
Milk teeth falling out. 
Still falling, tunneling, echoing, until
Someone taps at my woodenness. 
All of a sudden, I am tree again. It is 
A white office. God-like. His thumb
And finger force my pupils to constrict
To their blinding whiteness. MD psychiatry,
This God of mine is yet another man. Method,
Structure, planned routines, moderation!
Yet another fool dictating the course
Of this legacy of the womb. Hysteria,
They call it, panic disorder in more
Refined terminology. 
Get help, they said, like being a woman was
Such a grotesque malady. You are
Too much, in the face, raging, screaming
Screaming for my women, in protest of
This historical bigotry. Own and 
Expropriate and toss to the side of the road
Like this rage will never spark a forest fire 
In this jungle. I turn in over myself,
Brilliance wasted to a pitiful death. Dog-like!
I wish I could be more to myself, show love
To this body and mind, to all this knowing. I wish 
Knowledge made a difference. 
(I hope flowers grow out of my lungs.)
4 notes · View notes
lexotanmerlin · 9 days
Text
Lex # 5129
♥Hair: tram N0408 hair @ Collabor88 ♥Head: LAQ Era2 ~ Finest Detailed Head Elle ♥Skin: LAQ SupremeUHD Skin – Iman ♥Body: eBODY – REBORN – by eBODY ♥Tattoo: Fewness – Your Sign – Cancer by Fewn Daddy ♥Tattoo: Puddles. Zodiac Tattoos by Veronica Cuddles ♥Veins: Izzie’s – Body Veins & Cellulite (combined) by Izzie Button ♥Outfit: [ LSR ] Sexy Montana Suit…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes