#anyways the lyrics
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hinamie · 8 months ago
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mentor
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martyfive · 24 days ago
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i wanna love tomorrow, but i love what’s left
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nonebinary-leftbeef · 2 years ago
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DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one
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riddlerosehearts · 4 months ago
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"Be Our Guest" original draft storyboards vs final film (💖)
The song was originally written by Ashman and Menken to be sung by the enchanted objects to Maurice instead of Belle. However, story artist Bruce Woodside felt that the song would make more sense if it was sung to Belle, the main character, as opposed to secondary character Maurice, and directors Kirk Wise and Gary Trousdale agreed.
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germboyfriend · 2 years ago
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DO I SEEM ANXIOUS TO YOU?
DO I SEEM BACKED INTO A CORNER?
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ahyuggg · 1 year ago
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origami 🌃
I care him,,,🫶🏼
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starlingfawn · 2 months ago
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through starless sky to blackest ground
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hexcrystals · 8 months ago
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who the fuck gives a single shit if someone on this website thinks voting for kamala is ‘selfish’ or that it’s wrong to vote ‘just because you will benefit’. fellas is it selfish to want to continue to have access to vital healthcare. is it selfish to want a president that isn’t a fascist and a felon and misogynist and a sex criminal. is it selfish to prioritise your own employment rights when your job is the only way you can keep your health insurance and keep a roof over your head and put food on the table. is it selfish to think that out of the two candidates available it’s preferable to pick the one that might achieve a ceasefire instead of the one that will definitely escalate the genocide
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skyrigel · 8 months ago
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Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.
“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.
Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!
But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.
No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knee deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.
And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.
And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...
Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.
No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.
Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.
“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”
You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.
“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.
“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”
“last word. Your last word.”
“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”
You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly
“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.
“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.
“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.
“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.
But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.
No attachment, lost forever in darkness.
“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.
Grim Reaper! Simon
Masterlist
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rookflower · 5 months ago
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whichever one of us is a person first
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arunneronthird · 1 year ago
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and whether his eyes stay shut or he just stops caring enough
it feels the same
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humbuns · 1 year ago
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please never go away
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violence-infatuation · 1 year ago
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Clive Barker, Devotion (1997)
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minalots · 1 month ago
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ARE YOU IN PAIN LIKE I AM?
(Now on inprnt!)
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nagasleeps · 4 months ago
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your teeth and your tongue, bright red from tiger's blood
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soaked-doors · 1 year ago
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this devotion of mine runs deeper than the ocean
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