what if we orgasmed while playing guitars together

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@grimescoded
what if we orgasmed while playing guitars together
daryl dixon/norman reedus forcing you to smoke more than you can handle
I think about this scene a lot
I think if there was someone who had a camera with an infinite battery in twd,, these photos would be in the memory chip
the grimes hosting family game nights each Friday night ,, everyone in Alexandria can hear the commotion from their house . the concept of their whole group playing uno… who is winning.hmmm
he really tried his best to come off as a cool uncle here but ended up looking like a predator
negan came in his pants when rick slit his throat trust me on this one bro
carl after being put on mama duty for most of s5
Carl reading RJ his own comics before putting him to bed
high key the best era of twd ! They all look like they’re on a family camping trip,, somewhere in the countryside with too many mosquitoes and weird smelling flowers . just fighting over who’s cooking dinner that night and whos hanging up laundry . I live for this stuff !!!
also this photo here just gives me major old caravan park vibes,, them all staying there during the summer holidays because its cheap and in a nice rural area . i need to stop talking lol
Negan wrapping Carl knuckles after Carl split them punching him in the face.
yesterday's trauma is today's fetish
thoughts on saviour!carl 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
Daddy by Sylvia Plath
Judith wears Carl’s old flannel like it’s stitched into her skin. The sleeves hang past her wrists,, the hem torn and frayed, one cuff stiff with dried blood no one talks about anymore. It barely fits, but she wears it anyway, layered over stained shirts and tank tops , like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered .
The fabric smells like dust and old campfires, faded into something that’s almost a memory. She won’t let anyone wash it. Won’t let them stitch the holes or scrub away the blood. The damage is part of him now,, like the crooked handwriting in his goodbye letters, or the blurred edges of Polaroids of them together she keeps folded in her back pocket. It’s the last thing that still feels like Carl, untouched and real.Â
current status: going insane remembering that Carl absolutely would have let Rick eat him when he thought his dad was turning into a walker. he could not bear shooting his dad and lowered his gun and just sat there, ready to be consumed by the man who made him, the only family he thought he had left in the world. he'd have been painfully bitten and torn apart by his dad and then turned into a walker himself if there was enough left of him after his dad sated his hunger. the man who made him, who gave him life, would take it away again – in a way it's poetic. Carl was prepared to become a monster, to join his dad as one of these mindless creatures, to die. because shooting his dad in the head would be a fate even more painful for Carl.