I’m going to break your bones in alphabetical order.
Pick Up the Pieces, TheGreatCatsby
d e v o n
Not today Justin

No title available

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Love Begins
will byers stan first human second

Janaina Medeiros
Stranger Things
dirt enthusiast

Kaledo Art

No title available
NASA
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird

Kiana Khansmith

Product Placement
$LAYYYTER
Sade Olutola
occasionally subtle
almost home
seen from Brazil

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Finland

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Italy
seen from United States
@rawlinesfromfanfics
I’m going to break your bones in alphabetical order.
Pick Up the Pieces, TheGreatCatsby
It is a universal truth that power rests in the hands of only a minority of those who seek it.
don't you ever tame your demons, writingfromtheshadows
There will be things that will make us pause. But stalling wouldn’t stop the Earth from rotating. It wouldn't stop the Sun from shining. It wouldn’t stop the Moon from pulling the tides. Twenty-two billion years feels too far off for the Big Freeze.
I'm Not Sirius, psychosaur, stoisical
I am no stranger to the impotence of grief—the pain of coming to terms with your own helplessness in the face of death.
carve your love into my skin, Dont_Wake_The_Writer
A man who can be moved by friendship feels enough to be broken.
Consolation Prize, dgalerab
He is warm and firm but gentle, a steady rock in a turbulent sea. He is forgiveness, redemption and mercy. He is light in a place where the sun does not shine.
more than kin, less than kind, Anonymous
True tragedy comes (from) broken hope, they come from a fatal human flaw, or simply from waiting for something to happen.
I Wish I Could Swim, MidnightLightHowlite
His sixteenth year was supposed to be a fond memory of his youth, not a bookmarked passage he returned to over and over and over again until the novel of his life would fall open to the page unbidden, its spine creased in that one place from so many pathetic revisitations.
“I'll give a bouquet to these unending days”, sparksandsalt
This too was a kind of gift: he didn’t like pain but he liked knowing he was hurting, liked knowing he was suffering for what he was and what he’d done and what he one day would be.
“a difficult mind“, intimatopia