Thread lightly, it's sickle cell awareness month 🌻🤍🖤
ft. the founder of sunflowers for sickle cell 🐞🖤✨️
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Thread lightly, it's sickle cell awareness month 🌻🤍🖤
ft. the founder of sunflowers for sickle cell 🐞🖤✨️

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In hot water
Here is the #day20 #sketch for #inktober , the theme this time being #thread , and the first thing that came to mind was the phrase " thread lightly."
EDIT: I'm realising now that the word might be Tread, not Thread. Oh well, the sketch is already done!
#IDontWordsGoodSometimes
Thread Lightly
Gorilla art, women’s work, and metaphor tread their way through this found message. May we all be able to speak so poignantly with the peace threaded here.
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“Tread Lightly” - Masterdon
Mood of the day
A subtle mix of "shove it up your ass" and "screw you so fucking hard it might comes out throught the other side with enough lube".
& the wound heals but the scar remains. there is a headstone hidden under the shade of a yew tree in a cemetery on the outskirts of moscow. the years etched into the stone are wrong; not inaccurate but w r o n g. they are far too close together, the boy buried underneath it having died far too y o u n g. [ here lies MIKHAIL DOLOHOV beloved son and brother. покойся с миром ]
it has been ten years since his death & still, the pain threatens to eat him alive. forgotten memories; thoughts laden with guilt & [ sᴏʀʀᴏᴡ ], & the sense of complete hopelessness that had once consumed him have clawed their way back to the surface.
calloused fingers wrap around the bottle of vodka & raise it to his lips, draining its contents before allowing the bottle to slip through his fingers & shatter against the cracked pavement underneath his feet. the shards of glass at his feet mirroring his current state; full of broken thoughts he cannot repair. the sound of dry, windblown leaves being crushed beneath feet pulls him out of his reverie & antonin instinctively retracts his wand from his pocket & aims it at the broken glass, muttering a quick vanishing spell under his breath.
‘ & they shall come, like a thief in the night. ‘ azure hues turn towards the figure, silently assessing the individual. ‘ isn’t it past your bedtime? ‘