#<- ? could be if you wanted

[river--ghost]

work all night on a drink of rum

daylight come and me wan go home

stack banana til the morning come

daylight come and me wan go home

come mr tallyman tally me banana

daylight come and me wan go home

come mr tallyman tally me banana

daylight come and me wan go home

lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch

daylight come and me wan go home

six foot seven foot eight foot bunch

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say day

me say day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

a beautiful bunch of ripe banana

daylight come and me wan go home

hide the deadly black tarantula

daylight come and me wan go home

lift six foot seven foot eight foot bunch

daylight come and me wan go home

six foot seven foot eight foot bunch

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say day

me say day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

come mr tallyman tally me banana

daylight come and me wan go home

come mr tallyman tally me banana

daylight come and me wan go home

dayo

dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

day

me say day

me say day

me say dayo

daylight come and me wan go home

[theblob1958]

people are saying do it scared, but you also gotta do it alone. you'll miss out on so much you want to do if you wait til someone will do it with you. do it scared and do it alone.

[viola-sororia]

first class news paleontologists never disappoint

[starredforlife]

hello for those planning on voting for kamala harris. could y’all start emailing or calling her specifically to pressure her to stop the genocide. even if you’re a decided voter, mention you are undecided and that this is the issue you would flip on. here I’ll leave a link where you can email

[valtsv]

"objectively physically attractive but in possession of negative rizz" is one of my favorite character concepts. i think it's so great when there's an absurdly hot person who's just a complete fucking loser. the mood is unsalvageable the moment they open their mouth kind of deal. you get no bitches because you're so sucks.

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[my-darling-boy]

I was at a bookstore looking through the art section and I saw a spine that said The Camden Town Nudes which was interesting because this didn’t seem like the bookstore where I would ever find something like that and I wanted to have a casual look but like. This also wasn’t exactly the bookstore where you felt like you could look at naked pictures let alone just suggestive paintings of them, it’s a really small shop as well, so I was like right I’ll just take a quick peek, I’m an art student, I love history, maybe I’ll buy it. I looked both ways and saw the shopkeep had left momentarily and no one was about, so I opened it and found it was an entire book featuring nude Edwardian women all painted by Walter Sickert between 1905-1912 and it was actually quite a revolutionary set of paintings for its time given that it featured very raw depictions of working class nude women in dark London instead of the elegant, white bedsheet clad, Demure middle and upper class women usually depicted.

And of course RIGHT as I flip to this lady’s boobs practically taking up an entire double page spread, every customer in a 5 mile radius appeared from around the corners of the shelf including the shopkeep and immediately regressing to a wet, pathetic Edwardian man from 1908, startled, I dropped the large book which caused a giant SLAP on the floor in this already silent store thus causing all patrons to look down at me scrambling on my knees to close a giant book of Edwardian boobs and let me tell you it would not have been nearly as funny had I not immediately felt like some Edwardian local pervert who just tried to sneak a cheeky peek at the erotic book in the bookstore only to drop it dramatically causing a scene, red up to his ears trying to shove it back on the shelf. Like such a casual and normal thing in modern day but looking at Edwardian women suddenly turned it into this egregious act as I apparently became possessed by the spirit of a moustached man in a bowler hat and morning coat going Good Heavens I mustn’t gaze upon these images in public lest the constable haul me away!

[inbabylontheywept]

I was walking out of the Walmart today, and a car passed me, and I got this incredibly vivid impression. It wasn't really in words, but if I had to put it into words, the two key points would be

a). I needed to watch that car and

b). That I needed to be careful, because the driver of the car was a massive bitch.

It kind of took me by surprise, because I really had no reason to be beefing with that car, and I also hadn't really had an impression like that since I was religious, which was in my teen years. Right? It'd been a decade since I had a little voice whisper in my ear, and I'd basically written it off as nonsense.

Anyway, I watched the car, because The Spirits or whatever were very insistent that I did. Car drove fine, went into the parking spot, inched forward, and right when it should've just stopped, the driver gunned it for some reason and it ran into the curb and cracked its bumper.

So, the driver got out, and she went to the front of the car to check that yes, she had cracked her bumper, and then she turned to look at me. The parking lot wasn't empty, but we were the only two people standing in that row, and I'd probably been staring at her for tenish seconds now.

She demanded very angrily to know why I hadn't warned her of the curb. And I could have said I didn't know you were about to gun it or is it my job to help every stranger park, or even could you have even heard me, inside your car?

And all of those would have been fine, but I was really, really busy digesting that I had somehow communed with Mormon Jesus again for the first time in fifteen years, and that the communion had mostly been there to let me watch someone park badly (?), so what I responded with was:

"Because it was foretold."

And I can't tell which would be funnier, if she went silent because there's not much to be said to that, or if she went silent because in Utah, she might actually believe me, but we parted ways without more words.

I'm still kind of digesting this myself, actually.

[puppydayy]

Intox kink go brrrr

[edlucavalden]

Learning to eat with your hands.

[the-dragon-girl-27]

It is the middle of a Sunday afternoon. You have nothing on, and aren't expecting visitors, deliveries or post.

Unexpectedly, there is a knock at the door.

you are greeted by...... her

[sennamaticart]

Dress Code

[miss-jaye]

cw: slightly suggestive when nanami kento saw his wife about to leave the house in a stunning, tight sundress, he swore his whole world stopped for a moment.

“honey?”

“hm?” you glanced at him, then looked back at the mirror, trying not to stab yourself with your earring. nanami cleared his throat. “where are you going?” he asked as he walked over, standing behind you and sliding his hands around your waist.

“i’m having lunch with my friends, sweetie. i told you that this morning, remember?” you raised a brow, confused. your husband nodded dazedly, his eyes glued to your figure.

“right.” he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “where are you going to have lunch?” he asked, his hands gently roaming over your body, feeling the fabric of the dress he so badly wanted to tear off you.

“that cafe we always go to…” you trailed off, finally securing your earring. “are you okay?” you met his gaze through the mirror. “i do this once a month—same place, same people.”

he nodded, humming in acknowledgment. you stayed silent for a moment, trying to figure out what had him so distracted. now that your earring was in place, you became hyper-aware of his hands, their slow, deliberate movements over your hips, squeezing in that familiar way that told you he was restraining himself from acting on his desires.

oh.

a blush crept up your cheeks as you realized nanami hadn’t seen this dress on you yet. you’d just bought it last week and forgot to show him. “kento?”

you called out to him, but he seemed too entranced by the way the dress clung to your curves. he leaned in closer, burying his nose in your neck, his hands trailing down to squeeze your thighs.

you let out a startled moan, hastily covering your mouth. he inhaled deeply, the scent of your perfume overwhelming his senses.

“your friends won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late, right?”

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?