rubirunner

[rubirunner]

Rules of DIY:

if it's a skill, there's rules you can learn

if it's an art, rules are not your concern

make it fucked up or you won't make it

if it's already broken, you can't break it

anything can be fixed with gorilla glue

except for pleather, and also you

[rubirunner]

The Art of Giving

I bore the gift of endless giving,

Yet drank no wine of my own living.

The crowd’s applause, a fleeting flame,

Chained my soul in gilded shame.

In twilight’s hush I raised my plea,

“To Heaven’s throne, look down on me.

Grant me strength, O Lord of skies—”

The thunder spoke: “That strength is thine.”

“Look upon the mirror’s face,

See the daughter of a storm-born race.

A warrior carved from ash and flame,

Whose whispered prayers the angels claim.

The fire was coiled within your chest,

A serpent waiting to manifest.

The sirens round you sang deceit,

Yet iron sprouted from your feet.

Your scroll is blank, your tale unwinds,

The Fates still spin your thread of lines.

The ink is blood, the pen a sword,

Your story waits to be restored.

You poured your light to shadowed hands,

Built temples out of shifting sands.

You crowned the cruel with laurel leaves,

And sowed in fields where liars weave.

But mortal hearts are not your chains,

You rise beyond their petty pains.

Your love’s a forge, your soul enough,

A jewel unearthed from caverns rough.

When Death extends his shadowed hand,

He gathers empires, dust, and sand.

But stars will sing the tale you wrote,

A legend carved in Heaven’s throat.

[rubirunner]

shut my eyes, guide me home

it seems so beautiful it feels so final it looks so peaceful and it leaves me empty

it makes the fan louder it makes the days draw nearer it turns the birds quiet and it sees right through you

it can be now, it can be then but with it, comes the end you can't fight it and you can't survive it

so tell yourself it's beautiful believe that it's home that it has something more and that you won't be left alone

[rubirunner]

calling yourself ugly makes no sense because you don't really see yourself. you don't see yourself lying in bed curled up and silent with your chest heaving and falling. you don't see yourself reading a book with flapping and shining eyes. you don't see yourself looking at someone with love and caring in your heart. there is no mirror to stand in your way when you laugh and smile and happiness pours out of you. you would know exactly how bright and beautiful you are if you saw yourself in the moments; where you really are yourself.

[rubirunner]

The Dance of Tongues

A word begins, a hesitant breath,

reaching across the quiet.

Another meets it,

a subtle turn, a gentle shift.

And so, the conversation entwines.

Not just noise,

but a rising melody,

a shared current in the air.

Thoughts unfolding,

revealing,

weaving themselves into a tapestry

of understanding.

Here, a sudden laugh,

a quickening beat.

There, a pause, a held breath,

a collective intake of wonder.

Actions become the silent percussion,

gestures, the rising crescendo.

We find ourselves in this rhythm,

a human song,

each voice a note,

each movement a beat.

A raw, living poetry

born in the spaces between us,

in the grace of simply connecting.

#stonewalls

A good friend inspired this poem, as well as the picture I drew below. Sometimes, a simple hello can save a person. Amazing connections we weave. Many artists continue to inspire me. Thank you.

© 2025 behindstonewalls/stonewalls | Reposting on this platform is permitted with proper credit. Reposting on other platforms is not allowed. No edits. All rights reserved.

[rubirunner]

Father’s Day and The Beast Below are two of my favorite Doctor Who episodes, and I don’t think that’s an accident. Both stories center around a companion making a deeply human, deeply flawed mistake. But more than that, they’re about what those mistakes reveal—about the companion, about the Doctor, and about what it means to be good in a universe where the stakes are impossibly high.

In Father’s Day, Rose’s mistake is raw and intimate. She sees a chance to save her father—the man she’s only ever known through stories, photographs, and her mother’s grief—and she takes it. It’s not calculated. It’s not clever. It’s just love. Desperate, impulsive, heartbreakingly sincere love. She acts because the pain of not acting is too much to bear. She doesn’t think about the consequences—about time or paradoxes or the delicate threads that hold the universe together. She sees someone she loves, someone she lost too soon, and she can’t let go.

The result is catastrophic. Reality begins to fracture. Time bleeds. But underneath the Doctor’s fury is something quieter: understanding. Because he’s not just angry—he’s scared. Scared of what Rose’s love could cost, but also scared because he recognizes it. Because if he were in her place, if it were Gallifrey, if it were his own family… would he really have done anything different?

In The Beast Below, Amy’s mistake is less personal but no less human. She’s still new to all this—still figuring out what it means to travel with the Doctor, what it means to make choices that can affect entire civilizations. She tries to do the kind thing. The merciful thing. She wants to spare the Doctor the burden of an impossible decision—to take it on herself without fully understanding what’s at stake. And it backfires.

But again, the root of her mistake isn’t carelessness or ego. It’s compassion. She saw suffering and acted. And the Doctor, as angry as he gets, doesn’t see cruelty in her failure—he sees heart. Misguided, maybe. But true.

And that’s what ties these episodes together: the mistakes aren’t born of selfishness or malice. They come from love. From empathy. From trying to help. From that very human desire to make things better—even if you don’t fully know how.

And the Doctor, for all his bluster and frustration, recognizes that. Because he’s made those kinds of mistakes too. He knows what it is to act from emotion and face the consequences later. He’s not just judging them—he’s seeing himself in them.

These aren’t just episodes where the companion slips up—they’re stories where failure becomes the crucible of growth. Where human error collides with Time Lord perspective. Where the Doctor is reminded of why he needs someone beside him, and the companion learns that saving the world is rarely clean or easy.

And in the end, he forgives. Because he understands. Because he cares. Because, in their worst moments, his companions show him the best of what humanity has to offer: the willingness to try, even if it means getting it wrong.

[rubirunner]

our blood soaked and beating temple

everyday i wake up someone new and i forget everything i ever knew my hands are painted red and white i saw you crumble and fly west wind

i've always known god had a plan for me i just never thought it would involve all this i never asked to suffer so completely but i'll ask before i slap you across the face

i need you to remind me my left from right i need you to tell me my right from wrong i need you to destroy me fully, completely so i'll have a clue about what to write about

i press my ear against your temple and i hear the thumping, soft and gentle this is my nightly routine, tried and true just to make sure there's a human in there

i have dried out in the yellow, burning sun and i reek such a horrible, rotting stench don't shake my hand, it'll fall right off just listen to that thumping in your head

go ahead and do it, defile my temple nothing is sacred anymore, break the glass cut your hand open on my unmoving stones and paint me fully red, as i always was

i always knew the devil had a plan for me well, to be honest, i knew it involved all this centuries of preparing, you'd never get used to this numb and unmoving, and it destroys me so completely

i bleed out on the floor and whimper my pleas to you i rearrange old words into something uniquely crude and i find the perfect words to tear into you so you can suffer the shame i have lived with tonight

[rubirunner]

I wanna be who you see

Shine on me

Theres no life left in my lungs

The air is toxic to breath

Still i try to drink you in like my blood

And i sink i dont swim

Are you still following me?

And i try and i cry

But youve run so far ahead

Are you still following me?

Darling wont you keep up your pace

Swallow your face for your pride

Youre so far out there

And i am still here locked inside

[rubirunner]

Its strange missing a part of you you didnt get. Not really. Not in the ways that matter to you.

Its lonely. Watching people you want to feel a connection to together.

Theres no way youll be turned down or away, but theres still this part of you that knows you still find it so alien.

Its a part of you. You want it more than anything. Yearn and mourn are the closest words you can find to describe how you feel and yet

In the midst of it youre so overwhelmed and all you can think is im not good enough.

I should have had this

Im clinging to ghosts who dont know me

Im so scared and so alone

How i weep so openly in public over my own smallness and desperation to be a part of you

How small do i feel

Please

Please please please

You were never my home but oh how i long for you . I feel it in my soul the way it drops when i think of you, the way i melt like paper in fire when i see you and feel the warmth around me but still not with you, for my ashes will never be one with you.

Please

Im so scared when i hold your hand but dont let go

Dont let go for as long as i live

I want to know everything

I want to know you the way i know my favourite stories inside and out and still searching for scraps, for more cuz it will never be enough.

[rubirunner]

for when love is written in the stars but lost in the alignment.

[rubirunner]

outline story → ignore outline → write emotional mess → try to fix it → make new outline → ignore it again

[rubirunner]

Friend: Don't you want to have a romance?

Me: I'm good, I have romance at home.

Romance I have at home:

[rubirunner]

writing is so hard and it's the only thing i want to do in life.

[rubirunner]

God wears timberlands

In 2016, a teen died for 3 minutes, and upon his return to the living proclaimed how

'God had on timberlands' 'Fesh as fuck'

I think about that sometimes.

God is a woman

God had on timbs

God could have passed you on the street or could be wearing a dog costume chrging 3k for a peek.

I remember sitting in sunday school and being told we were made in His image.

I look like god.

God looks like me.

He is in all of us.

Does that mean i am in Him?

Jesus came to be one of us, and if he is god and god is him and jesus is human

Does that mean god is human?

And if i am made in his image, that he is in me, and i am in him,

Does that mean i am as human as him?

Does that mean i am god like him?

If we are one in the same, am i god as is god is me?

I think about death every so often, and i wonder what will happen

What if theres nothing but white space and a mirror

What if its just you and me staring eye to eye to eye for the rest of eterninty

For as i am god and god is me

Just as easy are you god and is god you

Is it not?

[rubirunner]

it’s so sad to see long running sci-fi franchises like star trek and star wars collapsing under the weight of their own nostalgia

[rubirunner]

The worst part of being an adult is doing the dishes every day 😫😫😭😭

they dont tell you this but like half of adulthood is just washing the same FUCKING pan

[rubirunner]

i'll defend fanfic for my whole life. like the joy it brings is genuinely transformative and indulgent in a way unique to the genre. it isn't meant for a market, it isn't meant to be sold or marketed. it is born out of such care and passion for a media that one must write and must share it, so other folks can enjoy it to. for no other reason than love and joy. do you know how special that is? especially in our current social and political climate.