Okay, So I Know Ppl Are Talking Abt Wraiths And Implications But Im Just Here Like-

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

Eowyn, in a high voice, holding Barbie: Hey Ken! I was thinking about going back to school and starting a career!

Merry, in a deep voice, holding Ken: Nonsense, Barbie. you’re staying home and having my kids.

Eomer: What the fuck are you guys doing?

Eowyn, giving him a deathly stare: Playing systemic oppression.

Bold words from the man who cant vote at all

Illegally nullifying 81 million votes seems like a bigger deal. The media can't quite grasp that.

Election fraud is the mission, not the excuse.

Reading today’s Daily Dracula and man. You do not understand how much I wish Team Kill Dracula’s quest ended when they roll up on the Czarina Catherine and find out some random Romanian sailors pushed his stupid box overboard, trapping the Count beneath water that he can’t cross

Like I know they gotta actually kill him to free Mina or whatever but like. It would be so funny. They’ve gone on this quest to far Romania, they’ve bribed everyone they can think to bribe, they’ve got a plan, and then they get aboard the ship and the crew are like, “there was a fucked up man in that box so we threw it overboard”

Only a matter of time before Bilbo snapped…

I also know one of those fanfics technically happens in the afterlife and Bilbo just bonks him for the emotional turmoil. 

:O one of my fav creators?? Tagging me?? Im honored •///•

Last song- Ruthlessness from the EPIC Saga

Favorite color- Green

Last book- Ink and Sigil by Kevin Hearne

Last Movie- Deadpool 2

Last TV show- Moonknight

Sweet/Savory/Salty- Sweet!!

Relationship- Single

Current Obsession- Dresden Files

Looking forward to- Not being sick

No one to tag lol sorry ;-;

౨ৎ 10 THINGS FOR 10 PEOPLE YOU’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER 💌

tsmy for the tag: @lisboncy 💓

last song: sparks fly by taylor swift

favourite colour: 🩷

last book: the stranger by albert camus

last film: captain america: brave new world

last tv show: the big bang theory (rewatch)

sweet/savoury/spicy: 🧁

relationship: with spencer reid 💞 (single)

last googled: gracie abrams pack it up lyrics

current obsession: criminal minds

looking forward to: summer holiday

💘 tags: @sororygilmore @mistysconcilium @auntiejohn @annabethsbbg @aangelicano @bohnerrific69 @fear-is-truth @oceanblvdbabe @lennonslvt @speaknow-sw @ssparksflyy @temporarywelcome @your-mommy-ems @lostreverb @libbybuxbaum @rottingsleepydoll @iloveyapping @darlingsgardens @dearlizzies @soft-likethesunset @casimirsstache @lovethornes @mia-luvs @daystarpoet @gingerteafairy @lisboncy @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @awhhayden @rauspberries @thisfeelslike-iykyk

Update apparently he's from minecraft, or as he calls it "sissycraft" I'm sissy btw

Anyway he is sissycraft

Behold

My 4 year old brother drew a chaos creature and now you all behold him

babygirl aragorn

Frodo: *stabbed by an immortal blade*

The Hobbits: What do we do Mr. Strider

The Hobbits: *looking to this big scary mountain man so intimidating and mysterious they don’t even know his real name*

Aragorn, truly just some guy at heart: I’m gonna call my dad

- amira. 5/18/25 8:51 PM

Simon’s arms are canvases of ink — dark, intricate tattoos that twist along his skin like smoke, etched into him long before he ever imagined someone like her, entering his life. Wrapping around his forearms, crawling up his biceps, disappearing beneath the sleeves of a tight black shirt that clung to every sculpted ridge of his body. Faded scars interrupted the flow of ink — reminders of life spent in combat, discipline forged through years of military service. His hands rough, calloused. — hands made for breaking, but now, for holding, her.

He hadn’t come to that grimy little dive bar looking for anyone. Least of all someone soft, so bright-eyed, and warm. He stays tucked in the shadows, the glow of the neon barely catching the matte ink of his skin. People usually know to keep their distance. But, then she walks in. — curious, unafraid, drawn to something dangerous like a moth to a flame.

“Nice tattoos,” she murmurs, voice soft and intimate as her fingers graze the lines on his arm. Her touch light, almost reverent, but enough to make his muscles twitch beneath her fingertips.

He’s never been one for indulgence. Self-restraint is second nature — ingrained, necessary. But she is a temptation wrapped in softness, and something in him gave way.

—

Now, hours later, she’s pressed against the cold wall of his apartment, dress hiked up over her hips, tits spilling free. He drags her panties down with little ceremony, letting them dangle around one ankle. The air was thick with heat and tension, the dim light casting theirs bodies in an amber shadows.

“Wanna know something about my tattoos, darlin’?” Simon’s voice low and gravelly, vibrating against her skin as he pressed the heavy weight of his cock along her slick folds, teasing, coating himself in her arousal.

“They’re older than you, sweetheart.”

She whimpers, biting her bottom lip hard enough to sting, a breathy moan escaping as his words sank in. But she doesn’t pull away — no, she pushes back into him.

“Didn’t think you were into that,” he muttered with a smirk, and then he pushed inside — slowly at first, then all at once. The room echoed with the obscene squelch of him sinking deep into her soaked heat, her walls fluttering around him.

“Didn’t take you for someone who had a thing for older men,” he groaned, wrapping a large, inked hand around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her eyes flutter. “Turns you on, yeah? Getting filled up by a man with tattoos older than your ass?”

Her legs tremble as he began thrusting, each snap of his hips sharp and precise. She could barely breathe, let alone speak, her brain melting under the weight of his cock.

“Already gettin’ dumb on me?” he cooed mockingly, his voice laced with dark amusement as tears welled in your eyes. “Fuckin’ hell, look at you. Cryin’ like a good girl.”

He watched every twitch of her body with greedy eyes. This — this — is more real than any night he’s spent fisting his cock in a lonely bunk, teeth gritted behind a balaclava, imagining something softer than his own rough palm. Now he has her, warm and wet and real, and he isn’t letting go.

He speeds up, fucking into her like he needs her to live, slick sounds loud and messy between them.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured, tapping her cheek gently, coaxing her out of her haze. Drool trickling from the corner of her mouth. “Give the old man some respect, yeah?”

She moans brokenly, while he grins — all teeth and hungry — before burying himself deeper, like he wants to leave something behind inside her.

And maybe, he already has.