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Circus
What if I broke my spine forever? My sister would come into the room to draw her portraits in charcoal, of two bulging eyes in a sea of haze grey. Each portrait is no bigger than an index card, arranged on a piece of rigid stock paper, tessellated and horribly consistent. All those dead eyes staring out at her as she renders them incapable of telling her anything. “I hate you” she would say to me, every time she would finish another. “You’ve ruined it. You’ve completely ruined it.” She would storm out the room, echoing for complete lack of furniture, and I would be left alone with them to watch over me.
I would ask you to pick me up and you would do so carefully, my limp body soft and complete. Can you carry me, lay me on the mattress in the back of the house? Or on the ground, it doesn’t make a difference to me. Sometimes I think you don’t believe I can’t feel anything and most of the time I don’t believe you can imagine what that’s like.
“Crush me” I tell you. I can only blink my eyes and move my mouth. I could probably wiggle my ears if I tried but I never feel up to it. You would gently press down on my breasts and my rib cage.
“Can you feel that?”
I slowly move my head left to right and back again.
I think about outside and what it feels like to be there. The treetops and the june-bugs and the hatred I feel for summertime. Everyone has gone on without me.
“Hit me.”
You look at me like you don’t want to but I know where your wonder hides, in the small places like a boy afraid of his own shadow.
You punch me in my side, my arm, my stomach.
“Can you feel that?”
I smile so big like I’m at the circus.
“Cut me.”
“What?”
“Cut me.”
You look down at me on the mattress. Here I am, unmoving and so horny.
“Please, baby, if I never ask anything of you ever again, just cut me.”
Wonder-boy takes his buck knife and carves a small canyon on my upper thigh. I wouldn’t know if I hadn’t watched him do it.
“Again.”
He looks me in my eyes as he separates another layer of subcutaneous. It is pink and red and yellow and blue and disgusting. I am butter and cottage cheese inside.
He stands there over me, belt unbuckled, denim undone, sweating, afraid, wonder creeping out for a closer look. His eyes are wild, so far from the fog of mine. Yet, we both want the very same thing. He removes his penis from his clothes and his clothes from his body and he slides it, hard as stone, back and forth through the gushing flesh of my upper thigh. I can’t feel a thing but I could cum just from watching. I have my own wonder too. The air in the room is hung from the ceiling unmoving like a puppet sleeping on his gallows. I am so lucky that he loves me, I am I am I am. He fucks my butchered leg like a stray dog and I cum over and over and over again watching him.
We embrace like kin in the hospital waiting room. “I am so lucky that he loves me” I think as he holds me. Despite the bright red picture I’ve painted in the white lobby tonight, they ask of me just five minutes. I don’t mind. If I don’t look, it makes no difference to me.
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on the 11th day of christmas my mutual gave to me softcore middle aged man pornography
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the last one.....i love he <3
ROMAN ROY
succession 02.10
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Don't SKIP HELp😍💕😭
am Asmaa Abed from Gaza, 39 years old💔👀
The whole world witnessed the tragedy that struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I survived many previous wars. But today we face the most dangerous and fiercest battle in the current war. We are in urgent need, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs of food, water and safe shelter.😍💔
Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, as my family and I were evacuated from southern Gaza to West Mawasi Khan Yunis, hoping to return soon, but it was not meant to happen. It was a new house I built before the war, it cost me a lot of money and I couldn't be happy with it. It was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed. Our home, once a bastion of hope, is now in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.
The night before we left for Mawasi Khan Yunis al-Bahr was terrifying. The sounds of bombing were everywhere, making a loud noise that seemed to penetrate our souls. Each explosion shook the ground like an earthquake, sending waves of fear through our trembling bodies. It fills us with fear. The smell of destruction and blood wafted through the air, making it difficult to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation all around us💘💝❤️🔥

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I finished unholyverse and felt inspired to draw again ✨️
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Mikey in his rotting corpse era
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we all need to die.






(gif) (lyrics in order: another saturday by orca, i know the end by phoebe bridgers)
"I asked Patrick Stump this question, as well. Are you two forever intertwined because of that special chemistry you have as collaborators?"
"Yeah. I mean, I think so ... I do think we’re forever kind of connected, and we’re kind of kindred spirits as far as that goes. He’s always the person I can still call, and he just gets it."
(https://www.tumblr.com/propertyofzack/6824435705/pete-wentz-discusses-relationship-with-patrick)
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somehow i never posted this one here despite the fact it's based on a tumblr screenshot lmao
reference to this post

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what are you waiting for? kiss her, kiss her...
did some sketches today :3 been rewatching fob music videos lately.....
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thinking about him...romulus </3
so many ways a character can be dog-coded. stray following someone home and begging for scraps. old and needs to be put out of its misery. attack dog. guard dog. lap dog. puppy that pees on the carpet from excitement. shelter dog just happy to finally have feet to curl up on. unsocialized that bites anyone trying to show kindness. silly goofy puddle monster. obedient until the leash comes off
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me when the character has a uniquely fucked mindset. me when the character's fundamental views of how the world works lead to them being hurt and/or hurting others and not seeing the problem with this. me when the character is a little freak who does weird shit because their beliefs, inspired entirely by their environment, are fuckeddddd
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