Top 3 Places To Bleed Out:

Promises of Gold, José Olivarez

The sand would have rose with Anakin if the Jedi hadn't been rotten and selfish; acting like this they helped Ani's downfall and the birth of Darth Vader. Palpatine convinced him to join the dark side because there was no one else on the other side willing to help him.

Anakin + M for the minific thing, please

M. when it rains/snows/storms;

The palace doors were shuddering and clattering and hissing, shaken by the sand raging outside. It was furious, building onto itself, feeding the storm grain by grain like single drops feed seas on other planets he had only heard of in bits of stolen tales, conversations eavesdropped from people free to roam the galaxy as it pleased them. The noise was astonishing. The Desert was screaming, roaring, just like the slaves who died at the execution he had been obliged to attend to only a few days ago. They shared the same fierce dignity, the same fearlessness. It was said the Desert’s strength came to hover on their dying children if only someone dared ask for help. Sandstorm were the moment when every dead slave came back to life to throw their wrath onto the world. He knew that. He knew that without single grains a sandstorm would be nothing, and the raw, angry song those single grains were able to form together had always struck him. Sometimes, no matter how dangerous it was, no matter that he had too much respect for the Desert to defy them like that, he wished he could be outside, facing the sandstorm in the eye.

He kept brushing the mop against the floor, knelt on hot sandstone. There was dust all over the place, and Gardulla hated dusty aisles, especially during sandstorms, when sand used to sneak in from every crack and crevice of the structure and settle on every layer, on every spot, like a rough, gritty blanket. She wanted no Desert trace in her palace, because a Hutt can control the Desert, a Hutt can shut the Desert out. Anakin liked the dust he was cleaning away, though. He knew the truth. He knew sand could rise, and rise, and rise, and cover every Master’s throne, cover the palace, cover whole cities, cover entire worlds. He knew it could slip into the shackles’ gears and erode the steel, it could blows into Masters’ eyes and blinds them. Sand was powerful and unstoppable. He knew one day it would have set his people free.

PRIDE KITTY PINS WAVE 2 IS UP FOR PRE-ORDER!!!!

Hello everyone!! Wave 1 of my pride kitties has been a huge success, and I'm happy to announce that wave 2 is in the works now!!

COMING TO THE SHOP LATE JUNE/EARLY JULY IS THE NONBINARY, PANSEXUAL, AROMANTIC, AROACE, MLM, AND RESTOCK OF BISEXUAL PINS!!!

These pins are available for preorder now!! Production takes about 20~ days (give or take) and shipping takes about a week, so the hope is that they'll get here before the end of pride month!!

In the meantime I still have these pins below available now!! Gay, Lesbian, Asexual, and Trans!!

FIND EM ALL IN MY SHOP BELOW!!!!

Etsy

EvilsCornerArt - Etsy

Shop Cute Enamel Pins! :) by EvilsCornerArt located in Denver, Colorado. Top shop for gifts. Buyers bought gifts from this shop and gave the

They say the history of the west was written from the saddle of a horse, but it’s never been told from the heart of one… Not till now.

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002) dir. Kelly Asbury & Lorna Cook

thoughts on being gay?

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told my girlfriend that if she proposes i want a secondhand wedding ring. i explained i don't want to contribute to a vanity-based industry like diamond mining, and that it would be important to me to continue marriage traditions in a way that causes minimal environmental and personal harm. she asked me if i was just trying to roll the dice on obtaining a haunted object, and i told her i can want two things.

Odysseus killing Patroclus to frame Hector in the royal shakespeare company's "Troilus and Cressida"

Ballad of a beautiful woman

I wake up in a strange room, the sheets are sticky and the clothes are dirty.       Last night my body was not mine. We met in a bar, he offered me a drink and told me I was beautiful;       that I was hot. He told me: “I enjoy your company. Come with me.” He brought me to an art gallery, he showed me what he liked, he asked for my thoughts. He kissed me, he tied my wrists: he told me to beg,       he called me a whore. He hit me, I didn’t like it. He hit me again.       I asked for more.

It’s morning and I wake up in another bed. This man was less rough, he kissed my skin and caressed my body;       he said that a woman like me deserved worship. We met again. And again, and again. He became more talkative during sex. He started saying that I had a perfect body, that I was a gift from the gods,       that I was made for him. When I told him I was moving he begged me to stay.       Two weeks later he was at my door.       He broke in.       I was on the bed.

I wake up in the middle of the night. I’m alone. Many men approached me during the evening, each of them with a lascivious look.       I turned them down. I laid in my bed and I cried.

      There is no love for me in this world. Only pity and shallow lust.

Seen someone say “I can’t die, I got graves to dance on that hasn’t been dug yet.” And honestly, that goes hard. We need to keep that energy.