C.

These are my little pillowcase theatres. Mostly my own original material, written about the most wonderful little girl you'd ever be lucky enough to meet. She's way better.
Follow her and Ask me

Mine is a force of nature.

A breakfast of love and honey and determination.

Her state is soluble, added to my very essence, sweetening my perception to a gorgeous golden hue.

She’s my lover and my best friend; I love her in ways that would make even seasoned lovers wonder.

contre-le-mur:

We’re at a bar in a booth and C is fingerfucking me under the table. I decided to wear a skirt with no panties tonight and shawl I can drape over my lap.

We left that establishment and went to a new place, a place we’d never been before, before finally returning to the Pillow Palace Fortress and properly relieving her sweet, swollen, soaking pussy of all that tingly desire.

contre-le-mur:

You’re not with me and your scent
hits me like a train, thrills me,
all the way down in my heart,
all the way down in my panties.

C.: titan.

littlepillowcasetheatres:

My eyes slowly stretch open. It’s the middle of the night, probably around 3am. It might as well be 17 O’Clock on one of Saturn’s moons for all I fucking know, I’m in a sleep trance. Of the best kind. Barely conscious. Systems functioning on the base levels. Brain activity looks like a sleepy…

9 months ago - 151

We are unstoppable, you and I. 

They say birds of a feather flock together; but we don’t need feathers to fly. 

I’m higher than I’ve ever been and I’m not scared to come down. Chances are you’ll be there too, waiting for me.

You and I, we’ll look around. Find a place to let the pups breathe, maybe plant a seed. I’ll take the axe, you do the weave.

And when I’m a little old, and you’re a little green, I’ll wink at you and say “Damn, girl. How’d such a great grand thing grow even grander?” and you’ll wink back and say

"With a little pillowcase on its feet".

frainçais.

contre-le-mur:

All that stressing out about my French test and I made an 84 out of 76. Not only did I ace it but I KILLED IT WITH FIRE.

Soooo proud of myself.

Too bad that fire spell didn’t have trample.

That I can say “my” in reference to this girl is a thought that can turn even the reddest day green.

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.

Henry David Thoreau

Meanwhile, In Post-Apocalyptia…

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"Is there another way?" 

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She’s panting. Deep, heavy breaths interrupted by an instinctual swallow. 

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"There has to be another way."

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In front of us, a solid brick wall. We’ve been running for what seems like a decade; in and out of alley-ways, over and under debris. Not unlike the big chase scene that wraps up your typical case-of-the-week, crime-and-justice-system television show. 

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"What do we do now?" She asks in a calm, centered voice, void of even the slightest panic.

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She trusts me. She always has. Even before all of this madness, she puts her faith in me to make the right decision; for her, for us.

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And for good reason.

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"Down there, sweetheart."

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I’m pointing to a drainage grate with a small opening, and finding myself thankful that we have had hardly any food for the past two weeks. It’ll be a tight squeeze for me, but she’ll glide through with sleight-framed ease.

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"Is that them already? How are they so fast?" She asks exasperated, referring to the sound of pounding, chasing, howling footsteps growing louder.

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A month ago, when civilization and popular-culture were still real, functioning things, I had a discussion with a friend about zombies. We talked about the overwhelming amount of entertainment that was entirely centered on a zombie apocalypse and how terribly unrealistic it was. Not the specific individual material, but the concept of a zombie apocalypse as a whole.

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"You’ve got this, Daddy!" She shouts at me encouragingly, as I make the tight squeeze through the grate to join her.

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As I pull my feet through, the zombie discussion races through my head. Maybe if I would have thought about it more: read the books, watched the shows… My head throbs. If somehow this is all an elaborate dream, some twisted nightmare I need only wake up from… I would so much prefer to be running from zombies. 

select, start

She doesn’t make you a better person. No one outside of your own vessel has the power to do that. No, it’s not a trick.

No, she makes you want to be a better person. This girl takes every stray nuance of your wilderness and provides it with life. She inspires in you a hope, a fire; a type of insight into yourself and the world around you that doesn’t seem legal.

As I lay next to the most precious, exciting little girl I could have ever hoped to know, softly strewn across her bed with her silky back exposed, two thoughts occur to me.

One: Who do I have to thank for this opportunity? I suppose I know the answer to that question in a direct sense; that isn’t the entire story though, and I won’t pretend it is. I’ll show her what that means to me.

Two: Damn, girl, what a beautiful, beautiful ass.

C’s Homemade Egg Sandwich with mayo, mustard and cheese. Cut diagonally. Special Recipe Home-fried Homefries with onions and a spicy pepper on the side, served right alongside a heaping portion of Mac and Cheeeeeese.

Daddy geeking out about dinner! (via contre-le-mur)

Followed by a flourishing bath for my sweet little girl, complete with hair wash and body rub.

growth.

Realizing that your biggest obstacle is yourself. 

Hold your heart close to hers, and your hand firmly. Maybe she needs a little reminder; perhaps you need your own. The sound of successive strikes should linger shortly, in your ears and mine, silenced only by their own echo slapping off your walls.

Welcome back, little one.