#i still love the poems in this.

[eyepatchdate]

packing more stuff and ran into one of my prized possessions: the poetry chapbook i made in college about dirk strider. the version that's printed has fanart on the cover and between the sections, so its just a really nice little booklet

[europasage]

on kindness.

@shanastoryteller // @delepiphany on pinterest // @girlmostlikely // @anotherchocolate12 on tiktok // @frogus // @xotwodstarr on pinterest // the smiths, i know it's over

[deadpoets]

DEAD POETS SOCIETY (1989) dir. Peter Weir

[tubbytarchia]

The bloodied moon cried for you, but you only heard the stars The weeping moon then bled for you, but you only saw her scars

[gnawgag]

it’s their’s to burn

sharing a cigarette with joan of arc - dante émile ( @orpheuslament ) // photography by brendon burton

[asoftepiloguemylove]

THE SUN COMES UP AGAIN // LIVING DESPITE IT ALL

Anne Lamott Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life // José Saramago Cain // Kill Your Darlings (2013) dir. John Krokidas // Katie Maria The Memory of a Memory // Cheryl Strayed Tiny Beautiful Things // Undertale (2015) cr. Toby Fox // pinterest // SEVENTEEN: HIT THE ROAD episode 10 A Time To Face Myself (via @kwonhochi) // pinterest // カウボーイビバップ Cowboy Bebop (1988-1999) cr. Hajime Yatate // pinterest // pinterest // Mary Oliver For Example

[thepathetickind]

is it ok that my birthday wish is still your happiness?

by laurenmaerie, another birthday

[gunpowder-arti]

sad cat poem - spencer madsen

[khickuwa]

you and the sea; and beauty is within the eye of the beholder.

[nenoname]

i need to see people talk about the bill+stan dynamic so bad....

bill and his endless loathing for stan, the fact that stan beat him with a trick that they used as a kid and bill seeing all the traits he hates most about himself reflected in stan

stan being able to read bill like a book and encouraging ford to forget about that creep, while part of him is still stuck thinking about bill and realising the extent bill hurt his family back when he was completely oblivious to him

the contrast of bill being offered the chance at redemption for destroying his world but refusing it, while it's been stated that stan knowingly risked the destruction of the world all for the chance of being redeemed

and that poem.....

[mawsmauls]

There it is, the line in the sand; that unspeakable thing. You know there is no going back from this. You can't return from the places you've gone.

Com for Loreshark

[yrsonpurpose]

Happy Christmas, Henry

[feroluce]

When talking about Boothill's drink order in 2.6, like. Hoyo could have just glossed it over and described it as "a few" or "several" drinks. They didn't bother to program in the actual glasses or anything- it's not like any of us were gonna count them and notice if they put in the wrong amount.

But they specifically chose the number seven, and if it IS just coincidence, it is a very very fun one.

Hsr is also known to make tarot card references- we had the online event shortly before Penacony's release, I'm pretty sure there's at least a couple simulated universe occurrences and a curio, and then Black Swan's Everything.

The Seven of Cups is a card about dreams and making choices when you have multiple options it front of you. It represents resisting self-deception and false dreams, and not letting yourself be charmed by hallucinations. It is a warning to carefully consider what is real vs what is not, which is very important in Penacony as a whole, being the land of sweet dreams, and it becomes relevant to Boothill later, when Primon starts to fuck with his head.

It can also represent someone who is "deep in their cups," which is a more polite way to refer to someone who uses alcohol as a coping mechanism to an unhealthy amount.

I hate that this could be a serious comment on Boothill being an alcoholic to cope with how much horrifying trauma he's experienced...and I have to discuss it looking at Primon's ridiculous fucking face fjkdslajldk

The overall message of the card is to stand fast, keep a clear head, and make your decision. Which suits Boothill beautifully even outside of this patch, since he is the very picture of ruthlessness and straightforwardness- he is able to see that bright clear line between action and result, and he follows it doggedly! Everything he does, he does wholeheartedly and decisively! And we see it especially well when he fights through the partial regression Primon leads him into!

Straight and clear and sure as a bullet, baby!!!

[flowercrowngods]

It's unreal. The light is streaming in through the windows, the curtains still drawn to block out the midday heat, tinging their living room in golden hues that match so well with the light grey fabric of their new sofa.

Eddie should probably snap out of it and head over to the windows, open the curtains and let the light in, and with it the warmth and fresh air of a surprisingly wonderful day.

It's March, he hears the echoes of Steve's giddy voice a week or two ago. Everything's better in March.

Eddie didn't agree then, and he's not sure he agrees now, but he must admit there is something magical about this moment.

Still he remains rooted to the spot, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders, his hands hidden in the sleeves of it, just in case this really is a dream. Just in case someone will come in and snap him out of it, take away their couch and leave an eviction notice.

It's dumb. But Eddie doesn't deal well with things that are unreal. Things that he knows aren't meant for him. Things that he knows he only gets in this one play-through of his life, while millions of other Eddie Munsons are out there in parallel universes who never get to even lay eyes upon a couch this nice. Let alone buy it. From their own real adult money.

It's a corner sofa, the fabric light grey, and he remembers it being harder than it looks. Solid. Just perfect for both their fucked up backs, scar tissue pulling if they sit wrong for too long, phantom pain and muscle aches coming in hot when all they want is to just relax and enjoy a lazy evening.

Eddie bites his lip, trailing his eyes along the pristine fabric, the pillows lining the back of it, the flawless stitches keeping everything in shape.

They have a couch now. A sofa.

It's so fucking unreal.

He drops to the floor right then and there, sitting with his back against the wall, and never once taking his eyes off their sofa. It feels important to look at it for a while. It feels important to wait for Steve. It feels... It feels like maybe he'll ruin everything if he goes and sits on it now.

And it feels really fucking big.

At some point he hears the front door opening, their lock going so smoothly now that Steve fixed it with some graphite, and the sound makes Eddie smile. That's another thing that's unreal. The key barely making any noise, the lock not rattling, the door not creaking and cracking. Eddie pulls a strand of hair between his lips, the smile feeling too silly for this room, for this home, for everything he gets to have now.

For all the tiny things that matter now. All the tiny things he gets to have, turning the key's smooth slide into an allegory of everything he ever wanted but never dared to hope for.

The slide of curtains, the click-click-click of the window handle being turned to let the air in. The breeze of fresh spring air dancing around his nose.

It's all a little much. It's so fucking addicting.

And then Steve. Socked feet coming to a stop beside him, a hand landing in his hair, a voice that's so endlessly warm and fond and maybe a little worried sounding from above him, "Hi, angel."

"Hi," Eddie says, tearing his eyes away from their couch to meet Steve's. The sunlight from the windows hugs him, making him glow. Eddie smiles. He smiles and smiles and never wants to stop.

Steve hums as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie weaves his arm through Steve's legs, holding onto his knee.

Everything feels a little less silly now. Like every time Steve doesn't question his little moments of sitting on the floor and just staring at things.

"We have a couch now," Eddie says, because it feels important to point out. Because Steve isn't looking at it.

"We do," he hums. "I got the call earlier. Thanks for helping with that, baby."

Eddie nods again, leaning his cheek against Steve's knee and trailing the couch again with his eyes. It looks brighter now that the curtains don't turn the room into something out of a sepia-type movie anymore.

Steve's hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp a little with his nails. It's nice. It's warm. It's pretty.

And it's so unreal.

"I'm twenty-four," Eddie says then, and some part of him wants to carve that into the fabric. He won't. But maybe he should carve it somewhere else. "And I own a couch. It's a little crazy."

Steve comes to sit down beside him, their shoulders pressed together and he links their hands, resting them in his lap after a brushes a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"Why's it crazy, angel?"

He shrugs, resting his head on Steve's shoulders and curling into his warmth some more.

"Most of my life I never thought either of those would happen, y'know."

Another hum, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head. Another smile.

"But you did it," Steve whispers. "You made it. And we've got a couch now."

"We've got a couch now."

Saying it out loud doesn't make it feel any realer. It only makes his heart race and his eyes prick.

"I love you," he says, finally looking away from pretty grey fabric to meet prettier hazel eyes. "I love you so much."

Steve leans in, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you. Thank you for buying a couch with me."

And it occurs to Eddie then that Steve understands him. Sitting there on the floor with him, hearing his words and listening to those unsaid, understanding Eddie on such a fundamental level that it should be scary. And it is, sometimes.

But he's not scared now. Because they have a couch. And they have pretty curtains that keep the light outside and still turn the room into something magical. And they have a lock that only needed a bit of graphite to let the keys glide smoothly.

And they have each other.

They stay on the floor until Steve's stomach growls, and they eat dinner with their backs against the couch and Eddie's feet in Steve's lap. They hold each other close after dinner, just breathing each other in as the breeze blows around them.

In the end, Eddie is the first to sit on the couch, with Steve standing between his legs and giving him a scalp massage in silence. In the end, Eddie buries his face in Steve's stomach to hide the tears, and Steve lets him.

Because this is real. And he gets to have this. They both do.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid@hotluncheddie @gutterflower77@auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important@stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic@bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[nothingworthnoting]

some nights i wonder how i dont collapse under

the thought of what once was

and what couldve been

other nights im sobbing inconsolably

wishing i could turn back time

wanting to be in your arms once more

longing to hear your sweet nothings

desiring to be seen by you

oh that stare of yours

ive always wondered why it made me so uneasy

only to realize you were never looking just into my eyes

but also staring into the depths of my soul

you could tell i was uncomfortable and would ask why

and i would brush it off

as if i could actually confess to you

that ive never felt so exposed

stripped naked of all of the masks i put on

to stare at me the way you did

was to unravel me

and hold the fibers of my very being into light

oh it hurts

but hurt me as you please

[coolnonsenseworld]

A little promo with my little obsession on the side...........

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