#I WANT TO HURL MYSELF OFF A CLIFF IT'S ALL ABOUT LOVE. LOVE AND MUSIC AND LOVE AND FRIENDS AND LOVE. THE POWER OF LOVE. GOD. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vacant2007 · 1 year

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goofy things i do

-mentally shut down as soon as i try to type this because oh my god why would you commit your thoughts to text. what are you some kind of self-obsessed ignorant tool

-hype myself up for like 3 days to finally make a Funnie Joak that ive been planning for like 2 years. if nobody laughs at joke, kill self

-walk thru grocery store shopping normally but vibrating with fear and absolutely certain everybody there hates every fiber of my being and would love to see me dead

-almost cry when thinking about how i exist and how unappealing and gross i am and how i cannot take myself seriously because i am so subhuman and repulsive and pointless that even wishing someone would love me is an unholy amount of embarrassing that i cant even begin to process

-if someone mentions an interest of mine casually, immediately clam up and do my damndest to pretend i barely care because if they see me like visibly react or get excited or anything it will be SO confusing and weird and cringe and it will be the talk of the century for them when im not around. or worse they will say 'lol why do you like that so much' which as we all know is a valid reason to consider suicide

-never keep a journal even in private. you think im just gonna say how i feel about things directly? so that the audience of nobody can mock me? i think the fuck not

-behaving bizarrely secretively about purchases and things i buy because id actually rather die than be asked why i bought something/wanted something

-want to hurl myself off a cliff when asked things like 'what's your favorite movie'

-lie about random shit for no reason like oh my god they will hate me FOREVER if i tell them i went to Walmart. I'm gonna say i uhhhhh went to the library. ok cool

-push the existence of new acquaintances who might want to be my friend so fucking far out of my mind that i genuinely forget to attempt contacting them

-get new clothes i think are cool, then never wear them because i feel like the worlds stupidest silly little boy in my shitty little fit

-before stating a fact to someone in a text or whatever, even if i know the fact is 100% true, google it and check it from multiple sources multiple times and read them over and over to make sure i'm not misunderstanding or misreading or otherwise about to make a fool of myself by saying something like, grass is green. once i am satisfied that i will Not sound stupid for stating that grass is green, press send and wait in agony

-on walks around the neighborhood with earbuds in, check every 30 seconds to make sure they're actually connected and that nobody is hearing my music. not only because it would seem really inconsiderate and strange to be blasting music out in public, but also because they will probably think the songs i like are really stupid

-put everybody i interact with into categories based on which sensitive aspects of myself i am willing to share with them at any given time. don't mix them up! i can't be telling personal-emotional stuff to the infodumps guy or vice versa.

-get so violently upset when someone is a little rude that i fantasize about beating them to a pulp while in reality i am just hiding and holding back tears

-avoid being seen in public spaces as much as possible because everytime someone's eyes notice me i feel like they are full of malice even though i cannot adequately explain what malice looks like in a person's eyes. best to just assume all gazes are malignant, then

-wonder why i am So Alone And Lonely while the unread DMs and text messages pile up on me, or fizzle out because I didn't say anything meaningful back

-leave behind me a series of friendly people who probably did try their best to include me and get to know me, but i couldn't find it in me to trust or listen to

-everytime i have to do something no matter how normal it is, wait till someone else does it first so i can gauge whether anyone thought they were stupid or weird and if not, copy exactly how they do it

-worry this is a stupid list

-wonder if there's enough things on this list or if i'm forgetting something that was crucial to The Vibe of it and without it the post will just seem dumb

-put this in the drafts as soon as i get done typing it, where it will ostensibly rot for all of time!

#eh maybe ill post it lol like #maybe somebody with avpd will see it and go 'oh me. lol' and it will encourage me to look into this further #sorry though LMAO i will hopefully get back to using this blog for what i usually use it for soon.i just. dont want this on my main #probably for these exact reasons!#vent cw #personal #suicide mention #tw suicidality #avpd #avoidant personality disorder #(potentially. maybe. said in a very trigger-shy way)#actuallytraumatized #actuallyabused

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northcarolinanative · 4 years

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𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 / 𝙲𝚑 𝟷𝟽

Description: John B’s Sister comes home from staying with their mom, only to find out that her brother is missing and her dad was murdered. JJ may have just lost his best friend. Her and JJ have to figure out what to do and how to pick up the pieces.

A/N: Wow I really didn’t expect this to go there… but it did. Let me know what you think. This is like 3k words of FEELings and the FLUFF so. Also mentions JJ’s homelife and swearing because IDK how to not swear… As always requests/asks/messages are open, so tell me something!!

Need to Catch Up? Collision MasterList

Chapter 17: I Thought of You

We all celebrated with a round of food, courtesy of Mr.C, as it was well into the afternoon by the time we had figured out that John B and Sarah were, in fact, alive. We had yet to figure out just how we were going to reach out and contact them because they obviously didn’t want to be found. I didn’t blame him since John B’s name had yet to be cleared, seeing as his only suitable witness was with him.

JJ and I fell into the same step as we made our way back to the car. “What if we did go to the SBI, tell them what we know? Do you think that they could bring them back?” I said, my voice was quiet as JJ stopped walking to look at me.

“Absolutely not. We have to make sure that Ward and Rafe are ready to go down first” he huffed, still looking at me confused. I just pulled him closer to the car. He took the keys from my hand before opening up the passenger side door. He motioned for me to get in as I raised my eyebrows at him, silently asking what he was doing. “I’m surprising you.” He shrugged. “We need to celebrate, we did do most of the work.” he laughed. I took off my backpack, feigning being a little surprised. JJ rolled his eyes before circling the car and returning to the driver’s side. He placed his backpack in the back of the car before starting the car with a large smile on his face.

“Where are we going JJ?” I asked, rolling my window down to let in the warm, salty air. I let my hand reach out the window tap on the roof of the car, matching the beat of the song that was softly playing from the radio.

“That’s a surprise baby.” He said with a laugh, letting his right-hand fall to rest on my knee. I felt my cheeks flush at his choice of words, only to be reiterated with his actions. “See things are turning up for the first time you arrived back on this godforsaken island, and you deserve to have a good time.” He finished a proud look on his face.

“And you're gonna be the one to do that?” I joked. He looked at me, a confused look on his face.”Show me a good time?” I questioned with a giggle.

JJ tightened his grip on my leg, “Oh you have no idea the kind of good time I’m capable of.” He winked in my direction.

I rolled my eyes and just mumbled a sarcastic, “mhm.” I couldn’t deny the way that my heart sped up though as he did. The way his thumb was rubbing short lines across my thigh, making me blush and the butterflies in my stomach even stronger. JJ had turned the music up louder in the car when he noticed that I started singing to a particular song.

We were headed in the direction of The Point when JJ parked on the side of the road. I opened the passenger side door to be met with a set of sand covered, makeshift wooden stairs, taking a steady pace up the hillside. JJ was by my side as I looked up the steep hill, then back at him with a confused look on my face. I took in JJ’s appearance, as he had lost his hoodie now and was wearing his backpack which seemed very full, on his back.

“Well, what are we waiting for, the sun’s gonna start setting any minute now.” He smiled and pulled me through the thick grass to the stairs. We made our way up the sandy stairs, much steeper than anything that I imagined they would be for an island. JJ’s hand wrapped around mine kept me climbing the hill at a fast pace. I could see how eager he was to get to the top.

Once we made it to the top, there was an opening in the trees and a small cliff that looked over the ocean. I took a deep breath feeling it hitch in my throat at how beautiful the scenery in front of me was. To our right was the lighthouse, and everywhere was the vastness of the ocean. “JJ this is beautiful!” I exclaimed tugging on his hand. I saw him smile and blush, just as he pulled us closer to the edge of the flat plain. JJ set his bag down and pulled out a blanket. As he began to lay it on the ground behind me, I found my way to the very edge of the cliff, looking down the long jagged wall. Below me, the water hit the jetty with force as the wind picked up. My hair swirled around my head, but the feeling was amazing, like nothing else I could think of.

I quickly used my hands to fix what the wind had done to my hair before turning on my heel to face JJ. There he was, sat on the small blanket with a beer in his hand outstretched to me. I giggled at his antics before sitting down, only a few inches away from him and taking the beer from his hands.

“I know it isn’t champagne or anything fancy like that,” He said, holding up his can. I raised mine to his. “To finding our friends” He laughed and we touched our cans together, clinging against one another with a dull thud. We both moved almost simultaneously, cracking the cans open and taking the first few sips. I was never one to choose beer, but after today it tasted refreshing, even if it was slightly warm.

“How did you even find this place?” I asked looking out over the water. The sky was beginning to turn a vibrant shade of pink as the sun began to sink lower, towards the horizon.

“When I left and went walking, the other night,” He stated. “ I thought about going home.” He paused. I felt my heart sink. No one was a stranger to the things that went on in the Maybank house, but summer after summer I was there with John B and my dad when JJ would ask for a place to say and lay low for a bit. Every time he was covered in bruises and cuts and one of us cleaned him up so it wouldn’t get worse and could heal. Every time it was the same response, “I’m used to it.” If I could help it, this summer, I wasn’t going to let him go home.

“But I realized that if I did, I probably wouldn’t make it out alive.” He paused again to take a deep breath. My heart hurt for him, knowing that the one place that is supposed to be a safe haven, was the place he feared the most. “I saw these stairs, and decided that no matter what was up here had to be better than that.” He let out a cynical laugh and looked my way. I’m sure that the look of pity on my face wasn't helpful, so I quickly gave him a soft smile, urging him to continue. “I found this here. It was nice and you wanna know the first thing that I thought?” He asked, a small smile forming on his lips as he leaned back on the arm closest to me, his hand barely touching mine.

“What?” I questioned back, mimicking his action, and taking another few sips from my beer, waiting for him to answer. The golden light that was coming from the sunset was highlighting the high points of his cheeks in all the right ways, not to mention the way that his hair was the perfect shade of blonde to accompany the sunsets warm tones.

He turned his head to look at me, noticing I had been looking at him, I felt my face heat as the red tint covered my cheeks. “I thought of you. I thought that I should bring Y/N here, she would love it.” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I looked down, becoming slightly timid at his blatant confession. It was so simple, but it made my heartbeat quicken. “I remember that day that you came home, that I had to tell you about your dad and John B, we were out on the boat.” He paused, his eyes were bright as they looked into mine. I nodded my head slowly, silently telling him that I remembered. “You said that even though the ocean had taken away both your brother and your father you found peace with it.” He stayed silent both of us turning to look at the water, listening to it crash against the jetty below us. “I didn’t understand that until last night. It wasn’t the ocean that you were mad at, it was just the common factor” I closed the small space between the two of us, moving myself into his side, letting my head fall into his shoulder.

“What were you angry about last night that you are no longer upset about?” I asked, seeing where he was going with it. I wasn’t going to push him to talk to me, but if he was ready, I wanted him to know that I was more than willing to listen.

“Myself.” He started. I felt my breath hitch. JJ was always one to blame himself for anything, no doubt a result of the words and insults that his father had hurled at him over the years. “I was upset because I kept pushing John B down the hole that eventually led him to get on that boat Y/N.” He heard his voice break, I knew that he was getting ready to cry. I moved myself to kneel between his knees, looking into his blue eyes, now red and lined with tears.

“You know that you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to, okay?” I spoke softly, noticeably quieter than I had been before.

He shook his head, still not letting his eyes meet mine, staring down at the patterned towel that was laying down underneath of us. “I want to. I want to tell somebody. I want that somebody to be you, because that night up, up here, I realized how if you weren't here I would have gone off the deep end. You gave me my redemption arc.” I smiled at his reference to film, something he loved, but rarely talked about. I simply nodded my head and let him continue to talk.

“I pushed him into hunting for the gold. He wanted to stop, every time Peterkin came knocking, or when the DCS was looking for him, or even when he wanted to tell the cops about Rafe. I was in his ear telling him to run, to break the law, because we had nothing to lose. I always thought that if we went down, it would be us going down together.” He stopped and let out a shaky breath. He closed his eyes with a veiled attempt to hold in the tears, but they fell down his cheeks at a rapid pace. I moved my hand to cup his jaw softly. I felt him lean into my touch as I wiped away the tears from his cheek.

“I always said I had nothing to lose, but I was wrong. I lost my best friend because of that mentality, and now I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see him again.” He let out a choked sob. I moved behind him in a strange attempt to hold him upright. I put my legs on either side of his, wrapping my arms around his torso and his shoulders, rubbing his arms trying to comfort him.

I kept whispering sweet and comforting words in his ears, trying to get his breathing back to normal. I let myself hook my chin on his shoulder, pulling myself into him as close as I could, trying to keep him as grounded as possible, to let him know that I was there with him. I even let a few tears of my own fall. Seeing him like this was never easy. Once his breathing had calmed and resembled something of a normal rhythm, we stayed in that position as the sun finally sunk below the horizon, leaving a dark sky above us. The stars began to slowly make their way out.

��That’s Orion's Belt.” He said, breaking the silence, bringing his hand up to point out, just over the water’s horizon. He laughed slightly moving to place his hands back over mine on his chest. “Who would have thought that you and I would be sitting here gazing at stars like this.” He said. We both chuckled likely at his statement.

“JJ, can I ask you something?” I said. My words came out hoarse as they felt stuck in my throat.

JJ slowly nodded his head, letting me know that it was okay to ask. I didn’t want to push it, but what Kie had said earlier was at the forefront of my brain as he spoke about what happened with John B. “I told Kie the basics of what was going on with us.” I started, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Nah, common.” He joked, pulling me a little close into his back. “I kinda liked being your little secret.” He joked, causing me to giggle a little bit. The weight on my heart was not as heavy, as JJ did what he did best, made me feel better.

“She said something that I’ve been thinking about since we started this whole search and this.” I said making a small movement, gesturing to the scene that we were a part of. He nodded his head letting me know that he was still listening to me. “She said that you’re different with me than in the past. I mean, I don't know” I said flustered. “I hadn’t noticed it till now, but I don’t want you to pity me because of everything with my dad or John B. I want you to be doing this.” I paused as JJ shifted to face us with wide eyes. His eyes back to that beautiful shade of broken blue. I looked down, not wanting to face them as I finished my sentence, “if you really want to.”

“Y/N.” JJ started, letting his hand come down to my chin. His thumb and pointed finger guided it so that I was met with his now softened eyes. “After everything that we have been through since you got back, I’ve realized a lot. I’m not gonna let you, the girl that I have had a crush on since we were children, keep walking out of my life like I have every summer.” I felt my heartbeat quicken with his words. I barely had time to process what he was saying before he continued talking again. “I know it’s a sudden shift, but if we’ve learned anything from this, it’s that we have to live in the moment, right?” I nodded my head quickly, the smile growing on my face matched the one on JJ’s. “I don’t pity you Y/N, you are the strongest person in my life. As much as I would like to be a big boy and say that I am strong enough to get through this alone, I can’t. I need you by my side for it. That’s why I’m different with you because you make me better.” He stated, trying to get his words right, but I knew exactly what he was saying. “Because I can’t fucking do it without you.”

This time he looked down at the ground. I let my hands slide up from his shoulders, to find each side of his clenched jawline. I gently pushed his head so that he was looking at me. I took a moment to just look over his face, every healing bruise, or smile line, framed his face in the most beautiful way. I let my thumb rub across his jaw. I don’t understand how I somehow got the JJ Maybank, one of the toughest boys in the OBX to sit in front of me and pour his heart out, both us creating rivers of tears. “I can’t fucking do this without you either JJ,” I confessed.

That’s all it took before I felt JJ’s soft lips on mine. The kiss was slow and passionate as he moved to lay me down on the towel beneath us. One of my hands wandered from his jaw to the nape of his neck, my fingers running through his hair. He moved more of his hands beside my head as he was positioned over me. He laid between my legs. I was wrapped up completely in the sensation of JJ, the way that his hand found the perfect spot of my waist to hold, or the way his lips moved against mine. The ocean is still crashing against the side of the cliff, creating an odd ensemble of background noise, but is mostly ignored by the two of us. I use my hand on his jaw to move myself to kiss down the side of his jaw, he moves to allow me, giving us both a chance to catch our breath from the heated moment.

“Be my girlfriend?” He breathed, using his head to nudge mine so I was looking at him.

“I thought you would never ask.” I smiled. “Of course.” JJ dropped his head so that Our foreheads were against each other. He smiled down at me before pressing his lips against mine once more.

Masterlist

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skia-oura · 6 years

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Twelve Days (Christmas 2017)

A/N: Based on Na Leo’s version of the 12 days of christmas. Written in a couple hours, not really betaed.

Ao3

Twelve raw opihi-

Every Christmas, growing up, Torako’s family would serve raw opihi. When Bentley heard about this, he just about fell off her bed in awe.

“I mean, I knew it was expensive, but is it really that expensive?” Torako had asked, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“Torako,” Bentley said, clutching one of her pillows for strength. “I have never had opihi. I have only dreamed of sampling one single, delicious, disgustingly expensive shellfish. The closest I’ve gotten to opihi in real life is when I stood on New Sacramento Cliff and weighed the benefits and drawbacks of climbing down myself to get a couple—don’t look at me like that, I know it’s dangerous, but if I got three then my dad could have one, I could have one, and I could sell another to get some extra money.”

Torako stared at him, and for the first time really felt the financial difference between them.

“I mean,” Bentley said, blushing, glancing at thin air to his left and then back at her, “it’s not like we’re unable to survive, and we’re pretty comfortable, but we definitely don’t have enough for more than like, one opihi a year, and that’s not worth it.” Then he changed the subject, but Torako kept that information in the back of her head, waiting for the right time. Then, Freshman year, at Christmas, her family express-sent a dozen raw opihi, and Torako got to see the bliss on Bentley’s face as he experienced one of the most expensive delicacies of the Pacific Ocean.

They had opihi for many, many years after that.

-Eleven mu’umu’u-

The mu’umu’u was a soft shade of pink, and had discrete designs in shimmering silver thread. Bentley lifted it to his chest and watched the fabric fall over his legs, long and ruffled and perfect. In more ways than one, actually, because he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“Not quite the reaction I was expecting, but I’ll take it, sure,” Torako said, grinning at Bentley even as a dipnipped-out Dipper licked her hair up into spikes. “What’s got you all cackling there?”

Bentley waved at her pile of presents and said, “just open the green mistletoe one, okay?”

Torako rolled her eyes and tugged the right one into her lap. She hefted it once, twice in her hands, then made short work of the wrapping to reveal cloth, dark blue lanced through with patterns dyed cyan.

She looked up from the mu’umu’u in her lap, wide-eyed for a moment with shock, and then laughed. “I guess we’ve got to get one for Dipper now too and make it a family thing, don’t we?”

Bentley thought of the eleven other dresses he’d been looking at online, and figured that one of them would have to suit his brother.

-Ten rainbow shave ice-

“Come on Bentley,” Torako hissed, her lips stained with food coloring and artificial flavor, “ten each, you can do it, it’s only one more and then we win!”

Bentley stared at the last rainbow shave ice on the table before him. His head swam with the merciless cold from the last nine he’d downed. He reached a trembling hand out and pulled the shave ice towards him.

“It’s just ice and syrup,” Dipper hissed, “it’s nothing, come on, we have cash money to get out of this.”

Who needed enemies, he thought, when your friends were willing to abandon you to the frozen claws of too much shave ice, all for the sake of meaningless cash. Methodically, he started to lift spoonful by spoonful of shave ice into his mouth, head wailing the whole while.

“Thirty seconds left, Bentley, oh my god just hurry—Dipper, I’ll give you a bag of gummy worms if you—”

“On it,” Dipper said, and next thing Bentley knew there was ice pouring down his throat, so fast and smooth there wasn’t even time to choke before it was an unsettling sensation in his stomach. Distantly, he heard Dipper and Torako cheering over their hard-won cash as his knees hit the ground a few seconds before his head did, and the last cognizant thought on his mind before they got home was that Dipper and Torako were going to pay for their indescretions.

-Nine pounds of poi-

“Who the fuck,” Bentley wheezed, helping Torako carry the package up the stairs to her apartment, “needs nine pounds of poi?”

“My extended family is large and we all like it very much,” Torako said, not even slightly out of breath. He hated her. He also hated Dipper, invisible and floating behind his friend’s head, making funny (disturbing) faces to try to get a rise out of Bentley. “You don’t have to help, you know.”

“I’m here,” Bentley said, arms trembling, “so I’m going to help, dammit. But I want payback, so much payback, because nine pounds of poi.”

“There’s even more in the truck!” Torako grinned at him, holding her end of the package one handed as she gestured down the stairs, and Bentley could swear he felt his soul leave his body a little.

-Eight ukulele-

Lata started playing instruments when she was seven, and she never quite went back. She started with a little ukulele at Christmas, plucking at the strings at random and with the kind of inattention that would embarrass them when they were older and knew exactly how fast and true their fingers could flyover the strings. They played many instruments—piano, harmonica, violin, drums, jumping from tool to tool until she came right back around to the ukulele, nine years old and still well-tuned. Lata would sit on rainy weekends for hours, humming and absentmindedly pulling music out of her childhood instrument, the tiny berries on her tiny antlers swaying as she did so. She played for her parents, for her Aunt and Uncles, for her classmates, lovers, coworkers. Lata never went pro with the ukulele—they weren’t confident enough, didn’t have the stomach for entertainment—but they played, and they played, and they played. Over their life, they owned eight ukulele, carefully maintained, sparsely decorated. The last was buried with her.

-Seven shrimp a-swimming-

“How many shrimp do you have in your linguini?”

“Ten, you?”

“Seven, so you better hand over two of yours otherwise I’m arresting you for unfair pasta.”

“I know it’s Dipper and all, but I still don’t think that unfair pasta is a reasonable charge, Torako.”

“Oh yeah? How many do you have, Mr. Mom?”

“My plate is empty.”

“Then you better throw it all back up so we can count, you little—no, get back here you heathen, you despicable—I want my shrimp, damn you Bentley!”

-Six hula lessons-

Torako remembers hula lessons in the way that many mainland children remember ballet lessons: fun at first, but progressively more boring the older you got. She got through six years before begging her dads to let her quit and do something actually fun, like hurling, which had a lot more shoving people and ball-chucking and there were sticks you could hit people with. She got hurling lessons for Christmas, and didn’t think of hula again.

When Bentley was five, he wanted to dance with all his heart, watched dancers of a thousand different styles and rhythm move their bodies in ways that made his heart sing with desire. He loved hula the most, the grace and power of it, the sway of heavy skirts and the smell of flowers saturating the air. Philip bought him six lesson’s worth of hula from the local dance center, but that was all he could afford so Bentley moved on to quieter, more realistic dreams with the taste of hula still humming in his bones.

-Five big fat pigs-

“Those are absolutely hideous,” Bentley said of the five pig statuettes that Torako opened, her face lit up with glee.

“They’re perfect,” she said, hefting one with lopsided eyes and a chef’s hat. “This is everything I ever wanted, and Dad knows me so well. It’s going right in the front entryway, where everybody will see it when they come in and it’s going to be the absolute best.”

Bentley eyed the menacing, overweight figurines and wondered how much he’d need to bribe Dipper (or Torako, for that matter) to move them somewhere a little more out of the way.

-Four flower leis-

Bentley doesn’t remember it, but on his third birthday, he and his father went out to the beach with four leis, carefully cradled in florist’s stasis wrap, and stepped ankle-deep into the water. Philip placed one lei around his own neck, one around his son’s, and twisted the other two around a stone the size of two fists put together. He hefted it in his hand, the weight of his son heavy in his other arm, and closed his eyes. “Susan,” he murmured, and a slight chill from the mid-December breeze caught the hair on the back of his neck right before he threw the stone into the ocean, the juice of crushed flowers lingering on the skin of his palm and in the crease of his fingers even as the ocean swallowed the stone, the flowers, with softer embrace than it had his wife.

-Three dried aku-

Torako threw a package of dried aku at Dipper, pouting as she did so. “No fair,” she whined, “Bentley got me those for Christmas, and do you know how hard it is to get actual dried aku on the mainland?” Dipper, mid-bite of skipback tuna, grinned at her with dried fish stuck between his sharkish teeth, and said, “Well, it’s worth the deal then, isn’t it?”

-Two coconuts-

“Hey handsome,” Torako purred, and when Bentley turned despite his better instincts there she was, lounging on the table in nothing more than a santa hat, a coconut bra, and one of those silly plastic wrap skirts cheap tourist places in the Californian Federation liked to sell. Torako opened her mouth, cupped one of the coconuts on her chest; before she could speak, Bentley interrupted with a “No, Torako, I don’t want to buy a coconut or drink any milk, get out of my kitchen before I brain you with the rolling pin.”

-and One myna bird in one papaya tree

Bentley had distinct memories of early December in his childhood, laying under the papaya trees in the park with his father, snacking on sweet lumpia and listening to the endless chatter of the myna birds above, laughing when his father talked to them and the starlings echoed his own words back, no matter how silly or sweet.

fin

#bentley farkas #torako lam #dipper pines #transcendence au #tau #tau fic #tau related #christmas #12 days of christmas

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jojoseames · 7 years

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Your top 5 Disney movies?

The animated ones, right?

1. Fantasia. This is kind of unfair to even have on this list, because it isn’t a “movie” in the typical sense, y’know? It’s an experimental concert film. But it’s also amazing, and it made me decide that I wanted to be a cartoonist, when I was about six. I’m constantly studying it. It destroys me.

2. One Hundred and One Dalmatians. Every character design is extreme and perfect and inspiring. The color-block backgrounds make me weep with joy. The xeroxed line style. Horace and Jasper existing as a textbook-perfect example of my favorite character trope. The surprisingly compelling sexual dynamic between Roger and Anita. Everything.

3. Sleeping Beauty. The Eyvind Earle-designed modernist style is so stark and extreme and austere. The storytelling that’s similarly so simplistic as to be elegant. The music of Tchaikovsky. The voice of Eleanor Audley. The way the story is entirely that of three little old ladies. I actually got to see a screening of one of the very few 70mm prints that exist of this film, and it was A Very Big Deal for me.

4. Bambi. Two words: Tyrus Wong. An additional two words: Bunny rabbits.

5. Lilo & Stitch. I can’t watch this one very often because it just absolutely devastates me, both with how hard those emotions hit, with the desire to be loved and accepted when one is kinda...weird, and lonely. And also because they did all the backgrounds in watercolor, and they’re so good that it kinda makes me want to hurl myself off a cliff. I love the colors, I love Chris Sanders’ roly-poly designs, I love the soundtrack.

Honorable mentions: Mulan, The Great Mouse Detective, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Beauty and the Beast, Winnie the Pooh, The Princess and the Frog, Moana.

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maewestside · 7 years

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#FAKEHATE: THE LINGERING EFFECTS OF RUPERT SCURVY... by heidi siegmund cuda, aka @maewestside

One of my former managers told me the secret to his success is he got up earlier than everyone else. #word

On Mother’s Day morning I allowed myself to sleep in till 5 am, an hour later than usual. And then hopped down the stairs and did what any bright chap would do, I searched the word “impeach” in social, hoping to get a single wiff of the smell of impeachment in the air. For months all we’ve been smelling is tension and rage, as the lingering effects of Rupert Scurvy has combusted America’s heart and soul. We used to have one, you know.

As story after story with the same inelegant script under different HateBot$ turned up under the word “impeach” revealing a non-story about Ms. Maxine Waters, one of the most courageous #sheroes of the revolution, I thought, “This can’t be!” But there it was, a grotesque caricature, #misogyny on Mother’s Day, the inelegant orche$trated verbiage an indication of an auteur who either hates himself or his mother. That the sicko junk was repurposed by "legit" lol new$ $ites caused me to hurl.

I stared in horror at my busted screen. It just couldn’t be, but in all it$ scummy glory: heavy heavy misogyny on Mother’s Day, with heavy heavy racist undertone$ to add extra.

Aghast, I realized clearly the troll$ were still under contract to #scamalot, as I watched the soulless f$!ker$ find a new critical public servant to inelegantly ba$h, because the cottage indu$try of ba$hing Ms. Hillary Rodham Clinton for profit has been outed by the hard work of chumps like me and myriad dogooders cutting through the corporate scripted narrative that sells #misogny #homophobia #bigotry and #fear for profit.

So there I was on Mother’s Day morning, trying to turn off the bigot $pigot from hurting Ms. Waters one tweet at a time by calling out the Fake Hate, and when I saw the enormity of the prescripted bot and $old venom spitting its way back at me, I summoned the strength of love, because it was afterall Mother’s Day. I wasn’t gonna let miserable, small and weak hearted troll$ ruin a day that is meaningful in my home and millions of others.

I live in a home where mothers are cherished.

So I did the only thing a peace provocateur could do in that situation. I asked the #twitter universe to send Ms. Maxine Waters extra love on that glorious Mother’s Day, and the universe responded in kind.

https://twitter.com/foxycuda/status/863746232748986369

We have to keep trying to detonate #fakehate with love, because we only have love and truth and as I’ve said from the jump, it might be all we need.

Everyone wants to swing baseball bats at those who voted for #meinshit and those who sat it out. But we must unite over the simple fact that truth is a commodity that hasn’t been profitable for corporate controlled media for some time, so things got kinda confusatory as #fakehate cloaked by billionaire fanzine$ and #bignew$ was propagated to the masses in the form of infogreed. Thus, folks truly believe there’s been a significant erosion of goodness in mankind, when it’s merely the passing of greed… let it pass…

We weren’t so easily misled down the slippery slope of info-lie$ a few short years ago cuz we weren’t getting our information from an endless sea of 24/7 $hite skewed to a demographic that the bean counters say will likely buy whatever it i$ they’re selling. Just look at the real #fakenew$ info-ad$ adorning your favorite websites. They had to figger out how to monetize somehow, so taking money from gangster$ musta felt like manna from heaven (eff you Facebook etal).

HIGH NOON FOR CYBERTREASON

A gent with a bent asked me for bulletpoints on my petition to “Investigate Project Alamo.” That’s the nifty name for #cybertreason.

https://twitter.com/foxycuda/status/863454998096519168

Hmm. Five bulletpoints to unite America and help preserve the free world from unloved children who haven’t learned to love themselves. That’s a lot of pressure but we mothers understand pressure because we’ve been in the cooker since the ‘70s.

Okay.

Five Bulletpoints to Save Democracy, as it pertains to #Scamalot and the #Cybertreason of #Project Alamo:

Number one: Sorry pal, you’re gonna have to do some homework cuz I used to condense complex shite into simple graphic bitesize pieces for a living but cybertreason takes due diligence so this will take some reading on your part. There will be no bulletpoints only homework, which you will be quizzed on later.

Your first assignment: read billionaire fanzine Forbes’ cover story on the Golden Doo$h of #Scamalot (Dec. 2016)

(for psychedelic cliff notes: https://twitter.com/foxycuda/status/856152842024869890)

Then follow it up with Businessweek, and myriad Texas new$paper puff piece$ on “Project Alamo,” a San Antonio affair starring the #sanantonio100, the number of digital hack$ it took to fukc up our country but good.

Now, the irony up to this point is these dirty deed$ were all in plain site because the Dumb Bunnie$ running the racket not only gave cozy interviews to collaborator journo$, they were celebrated en masse for playing “moneyball” with America’s heart. And America’s soul.

I have a blind friend who tells me she loves not being marketed to. #word

Today is Wednesday? Okay you have till Friday to read Forbes “exclusive” lolnotlol before my pop quiz and your next assignment: #alexandrachalupa explainer.

Ergo, read… tune out… turn off… meditate… read… seek truth. Cuz it is the truth that will return America to its good and kind soul.

Now I must return to the music in my head and my million projects piling up:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zallzQAm040&feature=youtu.be

“… can’t eat, can’t sleep, knowing that nothin’s gonna satisfy me… another blip upon the television screen.. among the oceans of stars…”

#word

(and please don’t be one of the cheapie$ behind the palm$, please tip your #freepress activists. we weren’t chic six months ago when crickets were the only response to truth. now our good efforts are resonating globally so please i beseech you to join such rebel outlaws as pennywise, strung out, the adolescents, sublime, pulley, unit f and a swell group of philanthropists and help me grow the team: https://www.gofundme.com/freepress)

(above, the author, watching sunshine rick schuler channel john denver at “conejo valley days,” featuring buster akrey in the red plaid shirt. cuda asked organist akrey who his favorite artists are who he’s played with: by the time he got to jimmy page, peter frampton and steely dan, you coulda knocked her over with a feather. among the artists who performed at the annual event in simi valley over mother’s day weekend were the foo fighters, cuz the foo is on the right side of history. the mark mahoney-inked “pen is mightier than the sword” back tat circa 2000ish was designed by chris gallipoli, the art director of cuda’s third and fourth books, on her 15th anniversary of being a writer for a living #word).

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