#cicadas crying and lightning bugs flying

[deer-fic-fics]

Gravity Fall uprising from the dead I need to tell you how much I want to fuck the Stan twins and that YELLOW. TRIANGLE.

GRAVITY FALLS IS THE SHIT!!!!!! Always loved the angst of Stanford x McGucket, and the cuteness of Stanley and Susan from the diner (even though I don’t think they worked out)

I’ve also had a thing for the yellow triangle all these years 😭

[iwanttobegentle]

I came out as a cicada, crying in the hands of a doctor that transferred my tears to my mother.

My green, iridescent cadence became a monsoon that must have been a beating moth at one time.

My wings unraveled, turned to intertwined heartstrings, and danced.

The calamity of my coming here became an investment in a front porch bug zapper.

My wings interfolded, interlocked, no longer beat, but sat and slept.

The exoskeleton to my exoskeleton, the hard shell of my leathered longing waited.

And waited.

And a cicada I remained, roughly scrounging for fire to avoid the rocking chair lightning.

Singed wings, burned antennae, glossy eyes that reminded my mother of a doctor who cut her open and kept her there.

Drawn to both fire and lightning, heat and buzzing, I looked past my cocoon and saw a blue expanse that was at once wondrous and too much.

I wiggled, rotated, gyrated for freedom from a shell made of me.

I broke free, felt the wind caress my soft, healing wings; left the suffocating comfort of my mold.

I take a step, spreading these thin and fragile aerial epicuticles.

I find my voice, my cicada’s scream, and fly.