As Someone Who Survived The Low-rise Pants In The 90's Phase--do Yourself A Favor. Stick To Highwaisted.

why am i dressed slutty you ask? to read classic literature alone in my room. mind your own business.

like, yeah.... obvs.

hey @cocoamoonmalfoy i'm all about making dreams come true

please enjoy!! 💖💖

tags: @if-n0t-l8ter-when @jessespencer @secretlyscottishkat @anais117 @awww-sugar @allskynostars @maddyrosew @chloefran @imnotoverlyobsessive @beige-honey @softhecreator @visionsofsweettea @lucyshea @staceystoleyourheart @hexrtbrexk-hotel @myheartdesirepure @no1partyanthem505 @madeinthemidnightmemories @weakling-grace @aomi-nabi @okaydraco @myownbravado @osnapitsabbie @biggestmessonhere @emilysprentisss @angxltimmychampagne @angelboyy @stuckysdaughter @thc-chalamet @dreamingformuses @lmfaosoph @everythingisspokenfortbh @missamericana69 @sufferingstarlight @reddir14 @lovelyrocker @dayafied @louievr @misswestfall

(a little fluff but mostly smut)

It wasn’t right. 

It wasn’t proper.

Nothing about it would ever be seen as acceptable, and that only made you want him more. 

This was the only way. 

Half past midnight, holding your dress up as you ran through the trees to your destination, your heart hammered desperately with anticipation. He was waiting for you. Knowing that your dress would be covered in mud and probably wet on the hem by the time you returned, you made a mental note to put it somewhere safe until you could take care of it. Whether the note would remain in your mind after what was coming remained to be seen. 

The greenhouse came into view just as the first lightning strike lit the sky, and you gasped as rain began to pour from the heavens, nearly drenching you before you were able to get in and shut the door securely behind you. 

“Sweet girl?” His voice was low, raspy, inviting. Following it like a puppy, you moved through an assortment of plants and gardening tools to find him crouched down in a corner on an unsturdy chair, his eyes lighting up like stars the moment you came into his view. 

“Tim,” you breathed, crossing the space between you as quickly as possible, your arms reaching for him as he stood to embrace you in return. 

“Did anyone see you?” He pulled you close, his fingers gently tracing along your jawline and his eyes on your mouth. 

“No,” you whispered, your breathing coming in short, intense bursts. “You?” 

“I don’t think so.” A little smirk, enough to make you squeeze your thighs together. 

“Thank God.” 

Weaving your fingers hungrily into his untamed curls, you kissed him hard and with every ounce of passion you could muster, knowing that not only was your time limited, but that you had no idea when you could meet with him this way again. No one knew. And it made the entire thing so delicious. 

Kissing you back, his eagerness spilling over as your teeth bumped together, his hands slipped down your sides to grip at your dress, knuckles white. You exhaled blissfully into his lips, and he deepened the kiss instantly, trying to get the dress out of the way at the same time with little luck. 

“Baby, Timothée,” you managed to moan out, enjoying the soft grunt you received in return. “We don’t have time, can you just lift it up?” 

Pulling back with obvious reluctance, longing in his eyes that you could feel in your own bones, he nodded and reached down to begin to tug it up and as out of the way as possible. The layers made it all the more difficult, but suddenly he was on his knees with his entire head up the skirt of your dress, tugging with greedy fingers at the fabric that kept him from where you needed him the most. When he finally removed it, you felt a small rush of cool air before his mouth was on your sex, devouring you relentlessly, his hands finding firm grips on your legs. You cried out, knowing you could be as loud as you wanted between the distance from the house and the noise of the storm. He made another grunt in return, clearly pleased with your reaction, his tongue dancing against the sensitive bud above your entrance before briefly dipping inside of you. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, Timothée!” Your entire body was buzzing, legs shaking, chest heaving, the pleasure he was giving you spreading like wildfire. 

“Mmmm, you taste amazing,” you heard him mumble, causing your heart to sputter. Wanting to see him, needing to see him, you managed after several awkward attempts to lift the dress up, revealing his gorgeous, flushed face and wild hair. 

“That’s so good, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” you babbled incoherently, a loud rumble of thunder making you jump. So lost in him, in the moment, you had completely forgotten there was a storm going on outside. What was happening inside between you made it look like a drizzle. 

His eyes found yours and locked in, pupils blown with lust and a determination there that you knew very well. Finding one of his hands, you linked your fingers together and let your head fall back, closing your eyes to enjoy him with every sense. He made quiet, contented sounds as he continued, eventually deciding to push further by slipping two fingers into you with his opposite hand. Nearly yelling, you clenched around him, feeling suddenly possessive, not wanting him to ever be this intimate with anyone else again. 

Do I dare? 

Pushing the words you wanted to say back stubbornly, you felt pressure beginning to build in your lower body, the need for release so overwhelming that you were dizzy. But he knew what he was doing. As usual. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he gave it the slightest tug before pressing his tongue back against it with more pressure than before. Shaking his head back and forth to create friction, his curls bounced, fingers gripping your thighs with hunger. It hit like a fucking train, the pleasure spreading from between your legs throughout your body, a loud, drawn-out moan of his name dripping from your lips without you even noticing. 

“Fuck baby, that’s my girl,” he praised softly, pressing tender kisses along the insides of your thighs and lower tummy as you came down a little at a time from the high. 

But you were not even close to being satiated. 

Hands still shaking, you pulled him up to be close again, gripping his hair hard and kissing him deeply, the taste of you still on his tongue. Groaning your name into your mouth in response, you could sense the impatience behind it. Reaching down between you, refusing to waste a single second of this precious time, you fumbled with his pants and belt until you could shove them out of the way enough to free his lust. It stood straight against his belly, your eyes widening considerably and your mouth going dry. 

“Turn around, gorgeous girl,” he breathed, backing you toward the wall of the greenhouse, his eyes full of promise. 

Obeying immediately and without question, you faced the wall with your hands against it, breathing heavily as you felt him try to arrange himself properly. It took a few seconds, a slight pause of movement before he was inside of you, the both of you releasing a crude moan at the same time. Wrapping his arms around you securely to hold you up, his lips seemed to be almost as famished as him, attacking your neck with wet, messy kisses and lovebites as he began to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace. 

“O-oh, oh fuck, oh my God, Timothée!” Wishing you could make more coherent sentences and knowing that it was probably impossible at this point with the high you were riding, you leaned back into him and let your head rest on his shoulder. 

“You’re… so fuckin’ tight,” he somehow managed to say between his endless sounds, sounds that only set you more alight. “You feel amazing, baby girl, fucking hell.”

Your eyes fluttered, lips parting and cheeks flushing in response to his praises. Another loud rumble of thunder – that, this time, you completely ignored – was accompanied by even more violent rain, the water pouring down the sides of the building like a waterfall. Twitching against your walls as he continued to move, you knew he was already close by the sounds he was making, and you moaned his name in a soft, feathery tone to encourage him further. 

“Fuck, fuck, keep saying my name, please,” he nearly begged, his thrusts suddenly becoming erratic, uneven, and sloppy. 

Before you were able to finish the final syllable of the word he was coming, biting down on your neck forcefully without intending to and filling your insides with his seed as he cried out your name over and over again into the skin on your throat. Overwhelming emotion took over, then, and you reached back to cling to him as best as you could from the position you were in. His arms tightened around your middle to pull you closer against him as it ebbed, the both of you gasping for air and shaking from head to toe. 

“Timothée?” 

“Mmm?” He brushed your hair back from your shoulder and pressed more delicate, loving kisses there, causing you to whine. 

“I just… I just…” Having an incredibly hard time letting it out, you exhaled sharply with surprise when he pulled out and gently turned you to face him. He looked absolutely fucking glorious, cheeks and neck and chest flushed, his hair somehow messier than ever, eyes sparkling as they gazed at you with adoration. 

“What is it?” He pulled you close for a light kiss, wanting to encourage and reassure you that it was okay to speak, it was okay to tell him. 

“I love you.” 

His reaction was not immediate, though you saw something register on his face as he digested the words. Anxiety began to spread through you, fuck, fuck I said it too soon… but then he was kissing you again, more force and passion behind it than you could ever remember having received before. 

And he was saying it back.

for Odysseus’ name to become synonymous with journey; Odyssey- he has lost his humanity; even after he dies and his body burnt to ashes on a pyre he won’t enter Hades. he will be damned to a thousand more journeys, a thousand more trials and a thousand more deaths. his spirit floats through the plays that recite his journey, echoes through the songs sung about him, his pain seeks through every epithet. Sacker of cities. Great glory of the Achaeans. Mastermind of war. Master mariner. Man of pain.

he will be damned time and time again to suffer and reach home for it to be torn out of his grasp each time. he will reach where the river styx fades into Hades and see the descent and before he can feel relief he is back where he started. He is in Troy. He is in a boat in an unfamiliar land, but it has his name. He is in Troy again, but not the same one he raided and burnt. he is floating through the aether. he is not a man anymore. nor is he monster. he is a Thing, an Ideal; akin more to Thanatos or Hypnos or Eris in he is no longer Odysseus he is the personification of journey.

If there truly are three deaths; one of the mind, one of the heart, and one of the memory. then Odysseus has become immortal and yet he begs for death. he no longer knows whether he begs for the peace of Hades or to truly be forgotten, to truly cease to be

George Peabody Library.

the funny thing is that i don't think younger people - and i mean those under the age of 40 - really have a grasp on how many of today's issues can be tied back to a disastrous reagan policy:

war on drugs: reagan's aggressive escalation of the war on drugs was a catastrophic policy, primarily targeting minority communities and fueling mass incarceration. the crusade against drugs was more about controlling the Black, Latino and Native communities than addressing the actual problems of drug abuse, leading to a legacy of broken families and systemic racism within the criminal justice system.

deregulation and economic policies: reaganomics was an absolute disaster for the working class. reagan's policies of aggressive tax cuts for the rich, deregulation, and slashing social programs were nothing less than class warfare, deepening income inequality and entrenching corporate greed. these types of policies were a clear message that reagan's america was only for the wealthy elite and a loud "fuck you" to working americans.

environmental policies: despite his reputation being whitewashed thanks to the recovery of the ozone layer, reagan's environmental record was an unmitigated disaster. his administration gutted critical environmental protections and institutions like the EPA, turning a blind eye to pollution and corporate exploitation of natural resources. this blatant disregard for the planet was a clear sign of prioritizing short-term corporate profits over the future of the environment.

AIDS crisis: reagan's gross neglect of the aids crisis was nothing short of criminal and this doesn't even begin to touch on his wife's involvement. his administration's indifference to the plight of the lgbtq+ community during this devastating epidemic revealed a deep-seated bigotry and a complete failure of moral leadership.

mental health: reagan's dismantling of mental health institutions under the guise of 'reform' led directly to a surge in homelessness and a lack of support for those with mental health issues. his policies were cruel and inhumane and showed a personality-defining callous disregard for the most vulnerable in society.

labor and unions: reagan's attack on labor unions, exemplified by his handling of the patco strike, was a blatant assault on workers' rights. his actions emboldened corporations to suppress union activities, leading to a significant erosion of workers' power and rights in the workplace. he was colloquially known as "Ronnie the Union Buster Reagan"

foreign policy and military interventions: reagan's foreign policy, particularly in latin america, was imperialist and ruthless. his administration's support for dictatorships and right-wing death squads under the guise of fighting "communism" showed a complete disregard for human rights and self-determination of other nations.

public health: yes, reagan's agricultural policies actually facilitated the rise of high fructose corn syrup, once again prioritizing corporate profits over public health. this shift in the food industry has had lasting negative impacts on health, contributing to the obesity epidemic and other health issues.

privatization: reagan's push for privatization was a systematic dismantling of public services, transferring wealth and power to private corporations and further eroding the public's access to essential services.

education policies: his approach to education was more of an attack on public education than anything else, gutting funding and promoting policies that undermined equal access to quality education. this was, again, part of a broader agenda to maintain a status quo where the privileged remain in power.

this is just what i could come up with in a relatively short time and i did not even live under this man's presidency. the level at which ronald reagan has broken the united states truly can't be overstated.

n4rtrivia

More fore edge painting! This time it's a 1947 collection of poems by the roman poet Horace (snagged it for 5 bucks at a used book store, felt very self satisfied)

the illustration on this is supposed to be like.. a generic Muse? i do not know enough about greek mythology

what I really like about all these vintage couple’s portraits is that there is a very certain romatic decorum kept up – certain themes and poses – which, while of course being the mainstream preferred view of couples repeated throughout many studios, are just… so nice to look at. 

this staged affection, a mix of theatricality and intimacy, the couple holding still for a couple of moments and now immortalised in a very set sequence of embraces and kisses. there is a charm to it even when I can’t tell whether this was a genuine couple portait or just actors hired by the photographer.

the kiss on the bare shoulder (eyes perfectly averted), the cheek caress, the piano and the violin, the interrupted embrace, the woman tilted back as in a half-stopped dance…