#im living babey

[crawthornsharkinson]

One day you're young and doing tequila shots til sunrise and waking up in alleys and the next thing you know you're extolling the virtues of having a wagon every time you take yours to the supermarket because people in their 40s fuckin love a wagon and keep asking you about it and then you go home and clock an exciting bird at the window and wonder how this is what you're doing with your twenties

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i have a Scene - a Plot if you will - that backs this as context. y'all are gonna have to trust me on this one <3 or read the tags...

[barghuest-draws]

Lil’ sketch to release some of that obsessive pressure so I can work on my other projects for a bit ❤️

[miquella-everywhere]

I love the Haligtree because it doesn't give any hints or indication or concept that r*d*hn was even a single deranged thought regarding Miquella's lore 💛

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Truth be told, Jack doesn’t remember the eight seconds he spent on the bronco’s back.

If any moon-eyed fangirls come up to him and ask about it, he plans on giving the standard blanket responses, like all he heard was the roar of the crowd.

In actuality, all he has are fragments from right before the livestock hands pulled that gate. It’s hard to forget that kind of anticipation racing through his veins, the sawing sound of rope pinning his riding glove to the back of the horse as Jack grit his teeth, ordering Racer to pull it even tighter.

Everything else, like the sickening crack from his head slamming against Midnight Train’s spine that made the audience cringe in horror, was told to him second hand. 

The trainer who checked him out gave him a lot of medical jargon he wasn’t too familiar with, but Jack gathered the important stuff. No riding for three days, get plenty of rest, neither of which he has any intention of following. And of course, there was the whole spiel about concussions affecting memory.

Imprinted in his is the face of one of the pick-up men as Jack faded in and out of consciousness, stern and cool and steady. He can nearly still feel strong arms around him, keeping him from falling into the dirt of the arena, can still hear the New York accent reassuringly mutter, “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”

So if Jack can’t stop thinking of the pick-up man who hauled his limp body from the horse into his lap, he’s chalking it up to brain damage. 

He’s been named Rookie of The Year for Bareback Riding—Jack Kelly can’t afford to be distracted by any potential flings. 

And still, every time he blinks, that face is waiting for him just behind his eyelids.

It’s the longest, most agonizing twenty-four hours before an opportunity to make a bad decision presents itself to Jack. He usually doesn’t make it that long. He also usually doesn’t go that long without visiting Dancer, but his body needed to recover after being thrown off that horse in the arena. 

The first thing that greets Jack when he enters the stables is the very same face that’s been stuck in his mind since yesterday. The pick-up man is reaching up, brushing the soft golden mane of the quarter horse that pulled Jack off the bronco.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he greets, drawing up his most charming first-impressions smile.

“In the stables?” asks the pick-up man. Not an ounce of his attention dedicated to brushing his horse’s long blond mane is redirected to Jack. “Pretty sure this is the least fancy place to meet someone.”

“It’s as good a place as any to thank you. For yesterday.”

“I assume you mean when you got your ass bucked off of Midnight Train and I dragged you out?”

Jack scoffs. He should probably be accosted, but he’s only more intrigued. “That would be correct,” he admits.

“No need to thank me, in that case. Just doing my job.”

“Be nice if I had a name to the face that saved my rawhide.”

“And it’d be nice if you checked your staff sheet maybe once before you rode.”

Jack blinks. “Pardon me,” he begins, leaning an elbow up against Dancer’s stable, “but have I offended you?”

“Not yet.” His head twitches in annoyance. “But you’re a rodeo man. You’re bound to eventually.”

Jack crosses his arms. “I’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

The pick-up man pauses and sighs, finally rewarding Jack with a look in his direction. He pretends not to, but Jack catches the way his eyes quickly scan him up and down. “David. David Jacobs. Which you’d have known if you’d check your staff sheet. You haven’t even bothered to give me your name, because you assume everyone already knows it.”

“So you’re saying you haven’t heard of me.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you, Jack Kelly,” David answers, turning his attention back to the silky mane he’d been brushing.

Jack looks up at the horse in question—a beautiful quarter with an unusual coloring halfway between brown and straight up golden. He steals another glance at David, head turned up in an admiration that’s reserved for the sacred bond between man and horse, as ridiculous as Jack admits that sounds.

Still, it’s quite the sight. David is quite the sight, beams of the setting sun reflecting off his green eyes, the shadows accentuating the perfect combination of curves and angles on his face.

 “Gorgeous,” Jack finds himself muttering.

“Thanks,” David replies, completely missing where Jack’s compliment was directed. “Shimmer’s my pride and joy. If you should be thanking anyone, it’s her. She’s a bit of a social butterfly. Even broncs love her.” He turns his gaze to Which one’s yours?”

“The skittery one right next door.” Jack points out the appaloosa horse, Dancer, aptly named for the way she fidgets her feet when she’s excited.

David snorts. “Figures. Shimmer’s obsessed with her. I always catch them talking to each other ‘cross the stables.”

“Funny. I’m obsessed with you.”

David rolls his eyes. “Maybe you should be obsessed with brushing up your technique, and you won’t get your ass handed to you so often.”

“Ass handed to me? I made it to eight seconds.” He also ranked fourth in the semifinals. As a rookie. But he won’t bring that up right now.

“It’s going to take a lot more than eight seconds to impress me.”

“Let me take you out to dinner then, darlin’. Show you that I can go all night.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

Jack shrugs. “To be completely honest, I think I’m downright adorable, but that’s besides the point.”

He thinks he might see David’s mouth twitch when he returns his attention to Jack. “I don’t sleep with cowboys. Kind of a rule of mine.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, you spend a night with me and we won’t be doing any sleeping.” He chances hooking a finger under David’s chin and dragging his mouth dangerously close to his ear. It’s entirely too brazen and forward, but Jack doesn’t know any other way to be. “You think Broncos are the only thing I know how to ride?” he asks, grinning when he hears David swallow around a drying throat.

“You couldn’t keep me saddled if you tried,” David mutters back, and his breath against Jack’s cheek sends a shudder from his ear, through his spine, all the way down to his toes.

And then David shoves him. Hard. Sending Jack toppling over his own feet and sprawling out onto the ground with an incredible lack of grace.

“Like I said,” David calls back as he opens the gate to Shimmer’s stable and saddles her up. “Technique could use some fixing.”

The click of horse hooves trotting against cobblestone fading into the distance, Jack decides he’s unequivocally in love with David Jacobs.

[lokh]

HA I WAS RIGHT!!! apparently kui said in a modern au laios would be a minimum wage retail worker

[propertyofkylar]

i love how google docs suggests edits that are like, entirely grammatically incorrect. like okay i know i don't actually edit my pieces like at all but even if i did i would not listen to what google had to say about it

[spearxwind]

.

[lemonthepotato]

[carcarrot]

i need 2 million dollars

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

How did you move on from your relationships so fast? Its been a hot minute since my break up and im still over here struggling

My first one is complicated, since it technically ended in October when he found his current gf, and our friendship fully ended in february/march. That one was the one I had to come to terms with the fact I was being abused the entire time, so by the time march hit I was done.

My second one I got over because we both pretty much came to the conclusion we aren't ready for a committed relationship with anyone as we are now. Them for personal reasons, mine because of trauma reasons. We actually went to a BBQ and got to joke about it too, which was funny.

So I'm not really the person to ask. The relationship that took me months to get over was the one where I got over it by realizing I was abused, and the second one ended on such good terms I couldn't really dwell on those emotions too long.

Although, some advice. Getting out of a relationship sucks. If you feel like you're still holding on to that grief (bc it is grief, you're grieving), spend time with friends. Go outside. Find a new band. Write bad poetry. Throw cheap paint on a rock. Go to a concert. Sing loudly to your music. Read a book from your childhood. Eat your favorite ice cream. And during or between that, think about what you had, why you lost it, and that it's okay. You're here, living (even if you have to make yourself), and no other relationship matters more than the one with yourself.

And remember that someone there loves you.

Or, if love isn't your thing, deeply appreciates you.

ALSO! That feeling? It's grief. Let yourself have space to grieve sometimes. Mourn a bit. And with every mourning and grieving, let a little more go. It's not forever, but it also doesn't have to be nonexistent.

Tl;dr I'm not the most qualified to speak on this, but at the end of it all just live every day and do things that make you smile

[adhbabey]

if anyone had to experience discourse everyday about their identity, they'd be bitter and angry too. so just think about that before you try to say like "x group is so mean and passive aggressive towards us, and we're victims for having to deal with them". You are the problem. Stop harassing people for their identities.

Yes, this means people with traits you don't like. It's not their fault that you can't be civil about someone else.

Before you reblog, this includes people with personality disorders, such as narcissistic personality disorder. This includes trans people, with or without dysphoria. This includes physically disabled people. This includes mentally disabled people. This includes nonbinary people. This includes pansexual and mspec people. This includes muslims and jewish people. This includes people who like "cringey" or "problematic" media. Like, this includes anyone who gets harassed on a daily and can't exactly choose whether or not they like something or have a specific identity.

I think I'd be bitter too if I got harassed everyday about things I can't change or things that I actively have joy in. Let's be nice and civil. No one deserves to be harassed and berated for normal things.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

in tonight's endeavor to be distracted from Everything, i have painstakingly jotted down the base, beginning ideas for a modern human au. it includes a gap-year group road trip in Wally's RV, Home

[eonars]

oh no it's nearly 2am i was about to sleep but i just got an email saying i have been granted a residence permit now everythings too Real and i won't be sleeping

[froggiewrites]

KAIDO SEEING ODEN IN HIS RETAINERS...im SICKKKKK

[spaciebabie]

i cant even have sex with my own wife in cotl. fuck this.