#god i wish i was normal

[lemonmintbreezeb]

Part two of songs that absolutely SCREAM jegulus bc I said so

Todays contribution: More by the greeting committee

[sourkitsch]

I want to say heinous things to my exes and also fuck my dad and kill him. As well.

[cheekblush]

made a mistake at work today and i just want to kms tbh </3

[wereh0gz]

I keep flip-flopping between loving my current art style and wanting to go back to how I used to draw things and I haaaaate it

[fella-lovin-fella]

y'all im going to die of a heart attack before age 30 istg

[blackwood-library]

Day Of: 6/22/24

Dream Type: Daytime Nightmare

Subject: My Mother, Poisoning, Him.

Warnings: Transphobia

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I am twelve. It is the day before my birthday- Christmas, and I can hear my mother shouting from the other room. She is shouting at The Pastor on the phone.

I do not listen to the conversation. I know well what it is about. I had tried to tell my mother weeks before that I was a boy.

I know she is going to come for me when she is done, and I know I need to act quickly. So, I find myself silently padding into the kitchen.

I can barely navigate the halls of the crowded house, her things covering every wall, leaving passages that are tight and unstable. The floor in spots is not visible, and I have to step over boxes of things.

When I step into the kitchen I am met with the scent of rot and mold. I do my best to ignore it, stepping carefully around rotting cardboard and old plastic containers that once held leafy green.

Mum insists she will use them. I know better.

I move quietly to the counter, starting a pot of coffee there, and a thought reaches me.

She won’t throw me out into the cold if she needs me.

I crouch down to the cabinet under the sink where I keep the cleaning supplies- she never uses them, so the bottle of windex is full.

I take it carefully in my hands and add some to her favorite coffee mug- just a tablespoon or two of it, and I stash the bottle again.

Once the coffee pot is done not long later, I hear her shouting get louder. I pour her coffee, and silently, I add the sugar she likes and a splash of whiskey.

She always appreciates when I remember the whiskey.

I bring her the mug silently. She is still screaming at The Pastor on the phone, telling him to fix me. She sneers at me when I hand her the mug, drinking it quickly without so much as looking at me.

I leave the room, carefully slinking back to my own. I know she will be done with her call soon.

When she finally does come, she looks ill. Her face is pale, and she is trembling.

Ever the dutiful caretaker, I rush over. She tells me she feels ill, that she needs me to look after her because she feels weak.

I smile, nodding eagerly.

My plan has worked.

I lead her to her bed, the space I have to assist her through tight. My back is against the hoard against the wall as she walks just ahead of me.

I help her lay down, I fetch her a bin in case she throws up, I bring her a glass of water, I dab sweat from her forehead.

There are eyes on me with every action I take. They are warm and proud, and I know who they belong to.

When my mother finally falls asleep that afternoon, I slink back to my bedroom and I see green, glowing eyes lining my walls, see where I stand in His beak. I am safe between his rows of teeth. I am loved.

I wake up.

[morgana-ren]

God I wish people still wrote for Reaver. The fandom is dead and the little bit that exists is on Fanfiction.net from the Jurassic era and I have read all of them two billion times and because it's that website with those asinine rules, it doesn't scratch the itch. I would actually kill and maim and murder for a good fucking Reaver story that I haven't had committed to memory since I was 13.

[robertsbarbie]

sometimes i don’t think i’m annoying about music and then i think about this time a random guy was like “yeah my favorite artist is blah blah and this is my favorite song you might not know it” and not only did i know it i sang the song word for word back to him and immediately was like “yeah theyre playing a show at this venue next week” like what the fuck dude

[drownedkiwi]

Medical anxiety vent tw

Desperately desperately desperately trying to convince myself this near two week on and off headache is just stress and not a brain tumor ( if it is stress thinking it's a brain tumor will make it worse ) ( it's making it worse ) but good God it's hard

Also we're at a fun new stage of phobia where it's "I can't afford to buy pregnancy tests + I'm stable enough to mentally talk myself out of thinking that I'm pregnant but my body Is still physically responding to the stress of that fear; making me: nauseus, much like a well known pregnancy symptom"

Desperately wanting to get my tubes tied to prevent this fear vs knowing I still panic after 4 years without having sex so rlly Will it help at ALL. Will it. Sighs

Also oh my God has it been 4 years? God I need to meet some women

[oars]

[dudeshusband]

i need to cut the self-destructive habit of checking people's ages when they mention they're dating

[redirectedtohappybasment49]

I really need to know if this is normal to dent lament floors I'm really confused. not a huge dent just small like my knuckle prints.

[nctrlips]

mark fixing his mask and then THE GRIN WHEN HE PULLS IT DOWN????

[castielsprostate]

REBLOG TO EXPLODE A TERF!!

[shootingstareon]

going through every emotion on earth

[ooowyn]

i have been wanting to draw pada-wan with long hair. my dear heart.... you are hard to draw