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#hold me im GOING
pseudophan · 5 months
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anthony is dead: the funeral roast (paid content)
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queerdraws · 8 months
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projecting on luffy again. get bited.
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inkskinned · 3 months
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yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."
i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.
the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.
mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.
later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.
sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.
but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.
i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.
every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.
wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?
the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:
he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.
every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.
mahler's fifth still makes me sick.
give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.
give me back what you took from me.
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weaselmcdiesel · 1 month
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#1 rule of homestuck. if there are stairs, someone will fall down them
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choccy-milky · 21 hours
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scene from my newest chap of seb discovering that daisies are also his favourite flower (and why)😊
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koszmarnybudyn · 2 months
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So this song fits them so very well right?
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theoldkyokodied · 1 year
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Uploading all my Tomgreg art at once from the past few week before season 4 hits, who knows in what kind of mental state i'm gonna be once it does :')
#tomgreg#succession#dont even talk to me i started watching this show when i had nothing to do at work and now i watch it with averiel my good friend averiel#and we are going to watch s4 together and i feel physically ill from bein so excited#so ya thats what ive been up to... anyway. i love these idiots they desever nothing but the worst (affectionate)#im also a tomshiv lover btw. im the one who yells 'THIS IS HOW TOMSHIV CAN STILL WIN' while they are actively losing on screen#thats the kind of person i am#dont look at me (lying on the floor)#okay i was not going to say stuff in the tags and let the art speak for itself but i NEED to point out details in the wine Painting..#i put a lot of work into that one. thinly veiled metaphors and symbolism yknow..#greg is gripping the stem of the wine glass with his full fist. tom and greg are dressed in the same outfit (sock garters included)#greg look appalled but he is not doing anything about the spill. tom is fondly pouring greg more and more wine. he is doing him a favor#i colored the red wine the same way i would color blood :) oh and tom is not really touching greg#only holding the chair in place. greg is making himself look smaller than he is like usual#oh and @ the person who said that it's the inverse of the tom and nate scene i love the way you think. i did not think of that before#but god. yeah. i actually thought about the scene change from when roman uhh.. christens his office in s1. the one with the coffee machine#i always go insane at that cut. this is not exactly the same since it's more.. about emotions but yknow.. it can be.. the same...
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aroaceleovaldez · 2 months
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one of my favorite headcanons about Nico getting his ears pierced is that he totally idolized Thalia as well for the like .2 minutes they hung out in TTC cause he thought her style was cool. And Thalia, because she hated the Hunt at the time and was mildly pissed off at Bianca for joining them and knew Nico was as well, and also partially to distract him for a bit so he'd leave everyone alone, went "Hey kid wanna see something cool?" and just pierced his ears for him.
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citrussmootee · 1 month
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i finaallly got to play one of my dream games WEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEE
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courfee · 9 days
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“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft. 
— Tender Curiosities, Baby!  @otrtbs
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catcze · 7 months
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NO BC LISTEN.
WIRO REACTING TO HIS CRUSH/LOVER WEARING A SUIT. LIKE IT FITS THEIR FRAME SO PERFECTLY AND SNUGLY AND WDYM “WHY IS HE LOOKING” OFC HE’S LOOKING LIKE HELLO???
I can’t tell if he would shameless let his eyes roam or would avoid looking at them KDIDKSKSK WIRO BRAINROT IS SO REALL
KAJNSDSA BROOO OMG okokokok something along the lines but 👀
Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
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You're fiddling with the cuffs of your suit as you exit the changing room, a frown on your face. You're nervous— of course you are! It's not often that you're invited to a high-profile, black-tie event like this, and you'd rather not stick out like a sore thumb.
Wriothesley, who sits comfortably in a plush armchair, has been invited before though. But time and time again he's turned down the invites with some of the most ludicrous excuses. 'A monster is attacking the fortress' is one of his most used ones, closely followed by 'a bird shat on the shoulder of my suit.' But you wonder why he's accepted this time, despite his distaste for the limelight. Well, you shrug, pocketing the thought for later. At least you won't be going alone.
"What do you think?" You pose the question to him, still frowning as you look down at yourself. Did you look okay? Was the fit alright? Did this color wash you out? You had splurged on this (well. Wriothesley splurged on this, technically. He had said it's a gift) and had the suit custom-done, so it should fit your measurements to an exact, but... you frown, not able to shake off the nerves.
And it doesn't help that Wriothesley hasn't said anything since you've stepped out, either. Merely stares at you, eyes roaming your figure. Even at your question, he acts like he hadn't even heard it. Does the suit look that bad?
"Wrio?"
That seems to reach him, and he blinks, finally registering that he's been staring at you— and that you've begun to stare back.
"Oh, uh. Yeah, it looks nice on you. The tailor did a very good job," he says, glancing away, hoping you don't see the red tinge to his cheeks or his ears.
"Really?" You ask, evaluating yourself in the mirror with a frown. "I don't know. I feel like I look like a mess."
"if you look like a mess, then I dread to think what I look like," he says, glancing at you for a second, getting an eyeful of you in that damn good suit, and feels his mouth dry up again. Wriothesley turns his eyes to the corner of the room, finding the fake palm plant there incredibly interesting. Barely more interesting than you. In that very flattering suit. It emphasizes your body very well, he thinks. Makes him see just enough of you while still leaving some to the imagination. And the color you chose for it... red and black, to match what he'll wear, you said. He sighs, troubled, because just the mere memory of it has his heart racing and his palms sweating.
You keep criticizing your reflection for a while longer, and it takes just enough time for Wriothesley to work up the self-control to look your way. "You look good," he says at last. Then clears his throat. His face feels hot. "Better than good, even. You don't have anything to worry about, I promise."
It placates you, because you finally give your own reflection a rest. You back away from the mirror, humming. "If you say so. Thank you, Wrio," you tell him, flashing him a small, shy smile just before you back up into the changing room once more to take it off.
Once you're out of the vicinity, Wriothesley drops his head into his palms, groaning softly.
if he's this much of a mess around you at a fitting, he wonders how much of a fool he could make himself at the actual event.
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there is something so so so Appealing about angry/irritated Barnaby. it scratches an itch in my brain. somethin somethin comic relief characters getting to break their mold and be outwardly unhappy
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plulp · 7 months
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IM NOT A DOCTOR BUT I THINK I MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP
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gallwithapall · 1 month
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Someone hold me back before I fuck this man oh fuck oh fuck
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Im crawling up the WALLS
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magicgirlboss · 5 months
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john silver - i'm your man
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goeticprincecorbin · 2 years
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The animators finally got that 1,75$ raise
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