#a collection of thoughts

[selenakarlsson]

everything is so hard

and I don’t mean the type of hard where you don’t know the answer to a test

or the type of hard when you struggle to lift something too heavy

I mean it’s hard to sleep, and to wake up

I mean it’s hard to get up

I mean it’s hard to shower,

and brush my teeth,

and clean myself

I mean it’s hard to leave the house

I mean it’s hard to be with anyone else

I mean it’s hard to function normally

I mean it’s hard to not cry,

or feel nothing at all,

or feel angry that everything sucks right now

I mean it’s hard to speak

I mean it’s hard to listen to my thoughts scream

I mean it’s hard to feed myself

I mean it’s hard to have to work

I mean it’s hard to have enough money for bills

I mean it’s hard to do dishes

I mean it’s hard to feel alone

I mean it’s hard to type this

I mean it’s hard.

it’s hard.

it’s hard.

it’s hard.

it’s hard.

everything is so hard.

[secretsiwhispertothemoon]

Frida Kahlo, from a letter wr. c. November 1933, featured in The Letters of Frida Kahlo: Cartas Apasionadas

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

Eat Clean

[karivarou]

the duality of the universe

27•10•24

Because of her. It was all because of her.

The duality of the universe was made apparent, because of her. Fleeting moments of fire and snow ignited under her touch and melted onto my skin. Things I had never considered, things I no longer know, but can still feel.

When does one realise the capability of the roughest lips to give the softest kisses? I recall when this quiet secret exploded into my reality, and it was her secret to share. She showed me how callouses can tickle shivers down silken spines, how rippling muscles can melt into a warmth deep enough to drown in, how chapped lips and bitten nails can draw trails of fire across tender skin, hurting, healing, holding. She could summon entire universes with her whispers. Earthquakes large enough to rip apart mountains she could concentrate into a single gaze; silent, still, yet so shatteringly intense. Her gentle exhales, soft enough to only just glance over breathless, raised hairs, could warm this hollow vessel tens of winters over. Her smiles, radiant as the sun, as a thousand suns, as a thousand galaxies of a thousand suns, could freeze my very existence, hold me in place, trapped in an alternate time of my own in which only we exist. Every word uttered, every glance shared, every gentle brushing of bruised lips, and every fleeting moment spent, captured in the immortal vacuum of which she created and within which we inhabit. Flesh fades into a time neither before nor after either of us, we subsist through empty space made full, continue through trenches deeper than clouds, survive through dark nights illuminated by the glow of her starry eyes, kept warm by the heat of her beating heart. It is only us. It will only ever be, has only ever been – us. This belief, so absolute, so consumingly absolute, could be torn from the heights of the next dimension over and still persist.

We have it all. The coldest suns, the blackest moons, the sharpest honey, the deadliest flowers, the harshest warmth, the softest cold. Because of her, we have it all.

And even with her gone, it is because of her that I can still feel the air, smell the winds, touch the skies, see the stars – even if she can’t. She showed me the duality of the universe, the duality of her, and then she gave it to me in all her beautiful, broken, living, breathing wonder. And even now, even after it all, I can still feel it pulsing in my soft, shaking hands, beating to the rhythm of her distant heart and soul, trembling in time to the seizing sobs wracking my willowy limbs, breathing the air parted from my unbroken lips in choked gasps.

I gave her all of me, and she took it with her, leaving all of her with the hollow husk of a vessel once loved. But even now, even without her, this hollow husk, this desperate, blind, clawing creature exists in an entire universe made full by her soul, parted from memories of the future, held within my hands. She still warms me, I can still feel her glow through my darkness, I am still drawn by the gravity of her gaze even without the eyes from which it is. Even without her, even with my very being falling apart in grief, small flecks of dim light floating from my form, dissolving in the breeze, her soul is still one with mine.

Could she know? Even now? If I were to continue her own life through myself, flowing from my fingertips and through her own to paint visions of our love into the fibres of time itself, could she know? Could I once more know these things I no longer know, but can still feel?

[chaosmenu]

i cant stop thinking about the fact that the us and uk killed one million people in indonesia as part of the cold war effort and barely anybody knows about it much less cares. trying to tell somebody about it especially in the west will just garner laughter and celebration -- genocide is okay if they are (true or suspected) communists, no matter what. one million people

[fascinationstreetmp3]

"boredom is death" (text from interview with the vampire & the vampire companion)

[sleeplessv0id]

does anyone else love stickers but never use them because you're too afraid to waste them.

[tyhalloweencats]

SHE IS FUCKING UNDER ATTACK

[h4venpha]

sylus who says he’s gonna edge you but then when the time comes and you’re hovering on the brink of cumming, sweaty and moaning his name so prettily, he forgets.

hes so lost in the way your back arches against him, creaming all over his fingers deep inside you that he completely forgets that he was supposed to edge you. he can’t help it :( you’re so pretty when you whine and beg to come, gripping onto his shoulders as you look up at him with big, watery eyes. your pleads go straight to his head and in the moment he can’t help but want to fulfill your desires.

so he doesn’t stop, keeps curling his fingers inside your cunt and rubbing your swollen clit until you’re mewling his name and thrashing against the sheets as he brings you over the edge.

it’s not until youre back to your senses and realize when you ask him, “i thought you were going to edge me…?”

sylus just kisses your sweaty temple as he smiles to himself. “mm changed my mind.”

[lietwice]

thinking about that quote that's like you are a better knife than you are a person. and the one that's like I am not a creature that was born. I am a fire that was set.

thinking about garak & self image. bc he's a weapon. he was made into one. from the second he was born, he was a fire, because his existence was a threat and a danger to tain and his reputation. so the fire had to be controlled and shaped. and he made him into a weapon, or garak made himself into one, and that distinction is hard and he changes his mind about which is the truth sometimes. did tain make him what he is, or did garak make himself this way to please tain? was it a choice? how much of a choice was it? was this inevitable? could he ever have been anything else? could he ever have been a person? ( he tortures himself with this silently sometimes. )

but he is a knife, and he's a good one, a sharp one, but that's all he knows how to be. that doesn't matter, for a while, because it gets him tain's approval, and what else does he need? so when he's exiled, he loses so much more than just his home. it's his purpose, his identity, his family, his whole existence. what is he, if not a weapon? he never learned how to be anything else. what is he, if he doesn't need to be a weapon, if being a weapon doesn't work, here? how is he supposed to live like this? he is a better knife than he is a person.

there are things a person does, and experiences, that a weapon never would. a weapon has no reason to be kind, does not need to comfort people unless trying to manipulate them, does not have fun for the sake of it. he has to learn how to do that, and how to feel normal doing it instead of feeling guilty for doing something he has no reason or right to do. he has to learn it, as an adult. how humiliating. so he doesn't learn, or at least not properly. which only pushes him further into feelings of not being very good at being a person.

[ennabear]

(18+) quick lil 3am headcanon: i think sevika gets off on intimacy. no matter how many hookups she has and how good they are, if she doesn’t feel some sort of connection she won’t cum. at least not very hard.

but this would mean that as soon as she meets you she’s horny all the time. you could be still in the talking stage, texting sevika late at night just to get to know her more, and behind the screen she’d have to shove a hand down her pants to relieve some of the tension building up in her core.

or she’d invite you over for a date at her place, ordering some takeout and allowing you to choose a movie, and she’d be squirming and rubbing her thighs together with the way you’re info dumping about your favorite film. it takes every ounce of self control in her to not pin you to the couch and use your body to get herself off.

and once you do start dating, she gives up on self control and completely submits herself to you. you’re giving her a back massage because she mentioned that it hurt? don’t think too hard about the way she’s whimpering. it’s midnight and you’re both still awake and giggling about some stupid silly youtube video? she’s soaked. she sees you in her clothes after a shower, hair wet with you looking all soft and fresh and domestic? creaming. hardcore.

it’s not that she doesn’t love your body, or the effortless way you get her off, but that added feeling of love washing over her pushes her to the finish line about ten times faster than usual.

[unlimited-nobu-works]

my group chats on private MMO servers

[secretsiwhispertothemoon]

Bilal Al-Shams, Sacrifice

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

Eat Clean

[karivarou]

sunshower

27•10•24

Light creeps through powdered slants and slopes. Morning breaks through soft white; soft light sinking crystals into delicate watery pebbles to drip into puddles upon which gentle warmth rises.

She can feel the warmth through the cold, but just barely, for the sun only merely teases the snow. They dance in the whispery rhythm of the wind, chasing each other, but never quite catching up. Their pursuit is not one of a hunt, but more so that of a waltz between forsaken lovers. It is a game they must play, but one they are happy to, as it is all they have before nature takes over, and their fun is melted. The game’s winner was decided before it began, and by noon the heat will be all that remains, but for now, the coldest white dances with the softest light, enjoying what fleeting time they have together.

She watches this dance, a curious spectator, captivated by the effect the dancers have on each other. She can feel their joy drifting through the chill in the air, she can see it in the autumn leaves, the glittering snow floating through rays showering the peaks in gold. When she peers upwards, toward the heavens, she finds the lovers peering down at her. The warmth embraces the cold, and they look happy, if only for a moment.

They are not meant to be. They know this as well as she, for in their embrace, the warmth cools, the snow pools, and they are torn apart.

Is this what existence means? Is this the fate of those set apart? Doomed from the start, condemned to fleeting moments in which they can smile through their yearning, they can dance in glancing touch, but never truly be content?

She lies with her back pressed to the snow, staring up at the warmth above her as the cold creeps into her bones below. Nature herself, trapped in a cruel dance with a lover just beyond her grasp. Are these unending loops of treacherous melody forever trapped in motion, unable to be restored? Has this forever been her fate? And furthermore, is this my fate?

She longs to be touched by one who cannot hold her. She dreams of embraces that will never be. The cold wraps around her, holding her in its knowing grasp. But knowing one’s existence, knowing one’s fate, serves no comfort in the pain they create. Her lover will never be hers, can never be hers. They are of different worlds, different times. They may both come from one source, but they were never fated to remain as such. She knows she cannot exist with her, for together, she is melted. But neither can they be apart, for without her, all that remains is a frozen heart.

[fandom-trash-goblin]

loved it all and found life