#going to cry my way through it I am not kidding

[sparkystar12]

Today, on the way home from work, I saw a raccoon walking on the highway and I could hit this raccoon, but I drove around that raccoon. For a fraction of a second, I thought, “I'm going to text her about this”, but then I realized I couldn't. We saw raccoons on our last hike, and it was the last time we spent time alone together- it was a good day, for the most part.

I still miss her so much. But it's my new normal- I'm getting through those days as I'm adjusting to my new routines. All I have is our memories. I still think of them when I drive back home because it is the same drive for the last half hour I did last year when I worked for a different job, and I always think of how I anticipated seeing them with contentment, for the most part. I am still reminded of many things that bring me to her. Every time I see the sun, I think of her. Just beautiful things. Or this kid who loves music at my work. Or McDonald's. Or the Christmas lights. All the things she said about people, how I need to try not to overthink, or not take it personally. Just many things. During the drive, “Am I going to think of her every day, for a long time? Two or three years? What will happen? Will I ever stop doing this?” Because she's the most important person I still cry at her absence. And yet I’m more okay with lack of her existence in my life. Such a paradox.

Back to that raccoon, I thought she was here. But she is not. But it was nice to realize she was here for a bit. 💔

Anyway, I’m still grieving as usual even though I have this new life. But I was lucky to meet her. Such a beautiful person.

lemonaulait

[hellinhawkins]

guys I’m going to be so serious. I’m going to start crying the second I start watching s5

[crustyfloor]

This scene of Till innocently peaceful with such a big smile feels incomplete to me after the events of round 7--But more true to his character rather than a comic with his final thoughts like Sua and Ivan had, it's cruel, brief, like a flashback, and it's bittersweet. Till is probably going to be reserved and ambiguous till the end. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to think about and reflect on his regrets and traumas; that's Till's principle; living in stubborn, childish beliefs, and in those truths, he finds escape into solace, even if it's unlike his reality, it's how he copes enough to make everything bearable for the next day to come. This image feels like a reflection, a memory of when he was happier in life. In Till's final moments, he thought about his and Mizi's childhood, the moment he fell in love with her was when she smiled at him with such radiance, the same moment, he felt like his heart was reborn; it was like he could breathe and smile solely for her. Till thinks back to these moments, these fleeting moments of peace because he can't let them go, he can't let go of the comfort of that familiarity.

--"Oh in a blink Gone. Blink and Gone, relish the present."

This image does bring me back to a lot of lyrics in Round 7. But this one in particular, a line that talks about living in the present before the moment slips between your fingers, in a blink, gone. But Till lives in the past.

Till doesn't think back to round 1 when he killed that alien guitar for Mizi, even though it was fully his decision, even though it was so gratifying seeing "Till win" and Mizi's acknowledgment, do you think he would have done that if he wasn't desperate and just doing what he felt like he had to do to survive? Because he had to stay by Mizi's side in her darkest moment like she was the one beacon of hope and happiness for him?

Till only suffers when he thinks back to round 6. When he's reminded of regret and pain. So, he represses the very memory of it to protect himself, he can't bring himself to even acknowledge it at all until he's forced to, when the aliens were intimidating him with Mizi's missing poster, he fights back out of anger. Just having that weakness, his guilt, and his grief used against him feels like a different kind of collar. Till thinks back to these warm, intangible memories of his childhood because life on stage was never something he could make his own, he didn't want to live for anything Alien Stage offered him, power, fame, etc. Despite his passion for music, Till is gentle and emotional at heart. This throne that is elevated high by bloodied corpses, a life living stagnant and trapped under the suffocating palm of an Alien, at the very top but inexplicably expendable, was never Till's vision of a life worth living. That's why he fought like hell for the life he wanted, for the life that he could've had. It really drives the point home when his final thoughts were centered around those moments when he was the happiest in his life.

It is so hard to feel the beauty, the warmth, in this image when everything around him is inauthentic, and it's off-putting because of the underlying details, especially since because of his gown, this scene might have taken place after one of those experiments or 'classes' it's a very subtle reminder of their reality. But his smile is so real in the moment without the collar, without the pain... he looks so carefree and full of life

And he scrunches his nose when he laughs *gets shot*

[iamgonnagetyouback]

AHHH THIS WAS SO HEART-WRENCHINGLY PERFECT, AMORA!!

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Theo mutters, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped space. His shoulder brushes yours, and you can feel the tension between you rise like smoke.

I AM SCREAMINGGG—the mutual disdain, the awkward shoulder brush, the sheer drama of it all. I could feel the tension suffocating me through the screen.

“For what? For loving you?!” Theo cuts you off, his voice cracking with old pain, the raw emotion surfacing despite his attempts to hide it.

This line shattered me into a million pieces. The vulnerability, the sheer pain in his voice—it’s like you can feel his heart breaking in real-time. I AM NOT OKAY. 🫠🫠

"And for some reason loving me involved you constantly flirting with other girls? always canceling dates? only coming to me when you were hurt but never when I was? that wasn't love Theo. I was just convenient for you."

AHHHHHHHHH I AM UNWELL. The CALL OUT. My heart broke for her!

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. You gave that up when you broke up with me.”

EXCUSE ME, THE AUDACITY??? Theo, babe, sit down. I wanted to throttle him and hug him at the same time.

“Then why don’t you leave?” you hiss. “If it’s so bad, why don’t you just go?”

I am SCREAMING. The tension here is off the charts.

The buzzer goes off, cutting the tension like a knife.

NOOOOO, NOT THE BUZZER. I needed another five minutes of them in that closet—crying, yelling, making up, SOMETHING. WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS IS MY LIFE FALLING APART???

This fic is an emotional rollercoaster in the best way possible. I’m crying and throwing my phone—this is EXACTLY the kind of angst I live for. It is painfully delicious

Theodore Nott x Reader where they are doing 7 minutes in heaven? But instead it's hell. Love you <3

reopened wounds

theodore nott x reader

Summary: the request up above. You and Theo are Ex's, being stuck in a small space, reopened wounds from your difficult relationship with him

warning: minor heartbreak

a/n: new title , thank you for the request anon!!!:)) also I will be doing anon emojis soon!

The game is supposed to be fun, but the moment the bottle stops spinning, you know this is going to be anything but. It lands on Theo, and a wave of dread washes over you.

Your ex. Of all the people in the room, it had to be him. Your heart sinks, but you force yourself to stand up, the weight of all the eyes on you making it harder to breathe.

Theo doesn’t even look at you as you both head to the small, suffocating closet. The door clicks shut, and there’s an instant, heavy silence between you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Theo mutters, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped space. His shoulder brushes yours, and you can feel the tension between you rise like smoke.

“Nice to see you too,” you snap, your voice tight.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh and shifts again, knocking into you. “This is ridiculous. We can’t even move in here.”

“Gee, you think?” you snap back, the words almost escaping before you can stop them. The anger from your past with him surges unexpectedly, and your chest tightens. “It’s not like I wanted to be stuck in here with you, but here we are.”

Theo’s eyes flash with irritation. “You think I wanted this too? You’re the one who spun the bottle.” He shifts awkwardly, trying to make room for himself but only making things worse. His elbow jabs into your side, and you flinch.

“You could at least be a little more careful,” you mutter, your voice strained.

“I am careful! You’re the one moving around every time I try to do something. Just stop fidgeting, alright?”

“Stop blaming me for your mess,” you snap, trying to push him away, but there's no space. “You can’t even stay still for five seconds without knocking into me.”

Theo groans in frustration. “God, you’re impossible!” His voice is low but full of venom, and for a moment, you’re reminded of how it felt when you two fought like this before. How everything escalated, how he always made you feel like you were the one overreacting. You take a breath, pushing that thought away. Now’s not the time.

“Don’t start,” you warn, your voice shaky but cold. "Not in here."

“Not in here?” Theo sneers, and suddenly there’s a sharp edge to his voice. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. You gave that up when you broke up with me.”

The words hit you like a slap. For a second, you can’t breathe, the weight of that old wound opening up again. His words are like salt on an old, raw scar. You had tried so hard to forget that night—the way everything fell apart between you two—but hearing him say it out loud makes it all feel fresh again.

“I didn’t—” you start, your voice cracking, but you stop yourself. You had your reasons for ending things, but now isn’t the time to rehash it. “That’s not what this is about.”

Theo scoffs, his face contorted with frustration. “Then what is it about, huh? You act like we’re fine, like this isn’t killing you inside. You think I’m enjoying this? Being stuck in a closet with you?”

“Then why don’t you leave?” you hiss. “If it’s so bad, why don’t you just go?”

“Maybe I will.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but the bitterness in it is unmistakable. He shoves his hand through his hair, then steps on your foot.

“Great,” you snap, your patience finally running out. “You’re making it worse.”

“Me? You’re the one overreacting,” Theo grumbles, stepping back only to bump into you again.

“I am not overreacting,” you retort. "You’re the one acting like this whole thing is a tragedy. But you know what? It’s not my fault we’re here. It’s your fault for—”

“For what? For loving you?!” Theo cuts you off, his voice cracking with old pain, the raw emotion surfacing despite his attempts to hide it.

"And for some reason loving me involved you constantly flirting with other girls? always canceling dates? only coming to me when you were hurt but never when I was? that wasn't love Theo. I was just convenient for you."

The words hang between you, thick and suffocating. You can feel your pulse in your throat as your chest tightens. your anger, your hurt—it all comes rushing back. All the feelings you thought you buried. All the love, the heartbreak, the why behind everything that happened.

Theo takes a shaky breath, but before he can respond, the buzzer goes off, cutting the tension like a knife.

You both stumble out of the closet, not looking at each other, your hearts pounding in your chests. Your friends are watching, but all you can hear is the echo of Theo’s words. You’re both pretending it’s over, but the damage is done, and the old wounds between you two are raw and open again.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

tag list: @juliet-017 @shityoudidntaskfor

[hunsa-jars]

Dread be dreading

[topicaltropic]

oops! all wips

[jackass-jones]

Time for me to be completely changed as a person! *just watched falsettos*

[raeathnos]

.

[godblooded]

every single minute i feel like a pressure valve that’s winding up too tightly and any minute it’ll just pop.

[parin-gurumin]

Although I don't particularly care about popularity or receiving attention, due to the nature of how my experience on twitter has been like these past few years, I have always enjoyed the Tumblr experience far more than any other platform. People are far more likely to interact by means of overall reblogging and adding comments in the tags, it's very sweet and motivating.

I came back to homestuck after A DECADE because of me having a rough, mentally and emotionally draining week because my impulsive thinking was like, "Hey man, fuck it, how far into Homestuck do you think I can read before I get help. (from discord support for context)" I had never actually read it when I was a kid because I just didn't have the attention span and willpower to read through SO much dialogue. I only ever interacted with it by means of just celebrating it as a fan who never actually read it, but liked it nonetheless. Of course now that I am a grown ass adult who can make their own conscious decisions and actually has the time and whatever to actually both appreciate AND enjoy reading extensively I am enjoying homestuck way more than I ever did before. I know that because of the death of flash (fuckin rip, dude, AWFUL) and extensive information about Hussie (TO PUT IT LIGHTLY) have since made getting into the comic a bit of a hassle and a choice it makes me wish I had actually read it at its best performance.

But, back on topic, twitter and other socials have the tendency to be particularly attached to trend hopping and sticking with what's currently doing numbers. Because, again, I don't care about dabbling in trends I just do what I want and ultimately that causes people to just not care about what I create. I have grown very apathetic towards my art and due to academic trauma from having been in a private art college with a low acceptance rate I have been in art burn out hell for literal years. The mix of both nobody caring about my art and my own rocky broken relationship with art made me extremely unmotivated yet long for the joys of creation once more.

Whenever I post here specifically it brings me joy again, it makes me realize that YES PEOPLE ACTUALLY DO CARE ABOUT AND ENJOY WHAT I MAKE NO MATTER WHAT IT MAY BE AND ITS CURRENT POPULARITY. I'm very happy seeing the same faces in the likes and/or rbs for my posts. I'm very happy seeing the same person revisit and reblog it for a second time or more. I'm very happy with how close and genuine it feels. (in a non-parasocial way) I'm just glad that despite this site being in a perpetual state of uncertainty, run by a skeleton crew, functions like shit, current CEO is a moron and the site is set to sail until it dies naturally it became the most genuine feeling of the social platforms ESPECIALLY for art.

I know this has gotten very longwinded and is essentially chaotic practically emotional rambling but like, thank you!!!!!!!!!

I have more stuff to come and from the bottom of my heart genuinely appreciate everyone's support here, it actually means the world to me. THANK YOUUUUUU!!!!!!!!

MY OLD ART BTW!!!!!! anything that's not in that small 2021 corner is 2013-early 2014

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

sometimes I think about The Last and want to scream

[cloneboywonder]

I almost accidentally texted my boss that “it’s so hard being a teenage girl in her 20s” :-(

[hioitself]

I don't know why the thought of people drinking and having fun triggers me so much. I think it's because of the family reunions I had to go with my mom when I was a kid and they had so much fun drinking and blasting music and I could not have that so I was just sit in a chair next to my mom or in her lap because I didn't have anything more to do other than watch them chat about everything. All I ever had to do was watch them laugh loudly while I was filled with that all boredom inside of me and I couldn't do anything to join them.

There were the adults, there were the kids, and there was me. A too mature child, the middle, the none. The "thing"

[itsalwaysdark]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[apollo-zero-one]

Listening to stories of people who survived situations like being trapped in collapsed buildings and it kinda sounds like the human response to being trapped in a bad situation is to just keep going back to sleep until death comes. Thinking about depressive avoidant sleeping. Brain doesn't know you aren't trapped under rubble it can't see out of his bone prison brain just knows everything is bad and everything hurts and we can't handle this stress we need to divert all power to life support, night night.

[steveyockey]

To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.

This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.

Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).

And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.

See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.

In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.

Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.

Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.