macklin celebrini has autism
if i look back, i am lost
noise dept.
Love Begins
#extradirty
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KIROKAZE
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gracie abrams
we're not kids anymore.
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Show & Tell
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The Bowery Presents
RMH
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@kahleatempest
âWinter is the only true season of touching. In winters, no matter how efficiently you dress up, a raindrop will find you. Fogs will enshroud you and leave their wetness on your face. Dry, cold air will crack your lips. As you inhale, mist will touch your nostrils and the inside of your throat. You will feel winterâs touch on the backs of your ears. Winterâs physicality reaches everywhere.â
â Nikita Arora, A history of botany and colonialism touched off by a moss bed
photography by Nona Limmen
Janet Jumbo by Menelik Puryear for L'Officiel US Magazine July 2022
what do you like about girls?
their evil ways
#this could fix all my problems#im sure of it
By @galwednesday
This was in Sioux Falls South Dakota! The green sky is caused by large hail stones within the storm refracting back green light to the observer.
More pics from that day
by femalepentimento
Selfish. Brat.
Sheâd introduced her as her sisterâŠand regretted it so quickly now.
Face down in the pillow of her bed she willed her heart to stop beating, but it failed to obey her. If sheâd stayed quiet, if she hadnât gone to that bar, if sheâd not made friends, if sheâd never gone to the ReachâŠ
If sheâd never left the damn estate except on missions.
If sheâd never been so bold as to want her own life.
She could have waited for Gareth to work up the courage to ask her out. Would have never met Bria to know to be hurt by it. Never met Grayson and broken his heart.
If sheâd just listened to her father she would have avoided all this.
And possibly have been just as miserable. But at least she wouldnât have Aethenn angry with her. Had she really put Soraya in danger?
The thought ached more than a blade in her back. Reminded her that the nightmares she was having and Kasem too were her fault.
Sheâd threatened to kill herâŠright there. Maybe she should have. The Witch, Ren, just by existing she seemed to cause trouble. Maybe she was too much of a risk to leave alive.
She was going to tell Shadow. He would make that call.
Her stomach roiled. She didnât want to think about that. How disappointed heâd look.
Her stomach rebelled.
Lying on the bathroom floor she stared at the wall putting together that the big mistake was that she had thought that Kahlea could exist outside of the walls of Shadowâs Rest. Pallas and Kahlea were not compatible existences.
She should have known. Umbra and Shadow had other names but they were merely masks put on for the outside world. The agent was the true identity, the given name a facade. Did she really have to choose one or the other? Dama seemed to do it so easilyâbut was always tense and unhappy. Ocelot dealt with it by being silent.
Was the only way to not fail to mute herself?
She caught her tongue between her teeth, considering the offending appendage. All it would take was willpower to press teeth through and remove it. She squeezed briefly but ultimately relentedâthe tongue could stay until Shadow decided how badly sheâd failed them this time.
You can grow up with them Kahlea, you can love them, sleep with them, marry them, bear their children but you will -never- be one of them.
Maybe that was the real truth. Her father had warned her all her life that she was not a Valdyr, no matter how closely their lives were entwined. She was at base a no oneâŠpirate child with no surname. Tolerated as of use, but the moment she had dared to reach out to Aethenn, to offer aide and comfort, nothing was remembered but the fault.
Now Soraya would be moved -again-. Aethenn would be in the house to follow her with those disapproving eyes. Teddy would be angry with her for nullifying all his hard work to win over the child. Wit would be cross.
She groaned and reached for the bucket again as her stomach gave her something more immediate to worry about.
Timothy A. Matthews aka Timothy Adam Matthews (British, b. 1980, based Liverpool, Merseyside, England) - Bohemian Kittyâs on a Lazy Sunlit Sunday, Paintings: Oil on Canvas
Panic Attacks
Leaâs words made my stomach sink. Iâm an idiot. I really am an absolute idiot.
I trusted her!
She assured me she was handling matters. She told me she was using her magics to make sure. Gods, we even spoke about her fears of bearing bastards!
What do I do?
Lea replied to me, to my terror, voice even and harsh.
âif she isâŠyou have the hard questions to ask. First and foremost if SHE wants your child. Then decide if you want them. If she doesnât and you do she might be willing to carry it and give it over to the family. If she does and you donât you could alsoâŠgive it over to her line, theyâre small enough. Set up some funding for the expenses so she can raise the kid in dignity. Or if you bothâŠwant the kid, she wants youâŠyou could marry her. Make it legitimate, ensure she and the baby are taken care of. It wouldnât be theâŠworst thing in the world. Having an adoring wife. Long as she doesnât get tired of you and want someone else butâŠthatâsâŠmany many questions down the line. Alternatively you could just get Roanvi to kill it."Â
Six above.
This is happening. Itâs my fault, my stupid lust, my desire.
And of course, it never ends there, does it.Â
Iâm such an absolute idiot.
Storms over Shadows Rest
It was raining, but only in the middle courtyard. It had been raining for four straight hours.
Leiran sighed and picked up his coat, sliding it on and found a wide brimmed hat to keep the water out of his face and opened the door. Stepping out, he was glad that at the least it was raining straight DOWN, however heavy it was as he walked through the absolutely water-slogged grass and over to the pond.
Sitting next to the pond was a very wet, very small looking young woman who looked very miserable.
Crouching down next to her, he considered the pond that was lapping over its retaining edges. âYou knowâŠif youâre trying to drown the fish, I got bad news,â he said gently.
There was a faint twitch of shoulders and he wondered if dad humor had gotten through.
âI donât want to talk.â came the small voice of the wet thing.
âAlright.â he answered quietly, sitting down on the wet stones and feeling the water running down into his boots. âIâll just sit here. You donât have to talk.â
It wasnât hard to put together. He did, after all, keep some tabs on his own daughter. She wasnât wounded, sheâd come homeâŠfine? And leftâŠfine? And come backâŠin tears. Not wearing her shoes. With a split lip.
It had to be something about boys.
After all, if it was a real fight or scrape with a gang or that charrâshe would have been all talk about it. NopeâŠcrying and not talking definitely meant boys.
Eventually she shifted and leaned against him and he wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her very wet head and let the rain fall down on the both.
sometimes someone isnât âtoxic,â theyâre just âabrasive.â or âmutagenicâ or âhighly flammable,â and you should always check their material safety data sheet to be sure
tag yourself iâm harmful irritant
Imaan Hammam by Alique for Vogue Mexico July 2022
Favourite Designs:Â Zuhair Murad âVers Les Joyaux Du Tempsâ Spring 2022 Haute Couture Collection
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