#im your passenger

[unholy-cvlt]

PASSENGER

Here I lay

Still and breathless

Just like always

Still, I want some more

Mirrors sideways

Who cares what's behind?

Just like always

Still your passenger

Chrome buttons, buckles and leather surfaces

These and other lucky witnesses

Now to calm me

This time won't you please

Drive faster

Roll the window down this

Cool night air is curious

Let the whole world look in

Who cares who sees anything?

I'm your passenger

I'm your passenger

Drop these down

Then put them on me

Nice, cool seats

There to cushion your knees

Now to calm me

Take me around again

Don't pull over

This time won't you please

Drive faster

Roll the window down this

Cool night air is curious

Let the whole world look in

Who cares who sees what tonight?

Roll these misty windows

Down to catch my breath and then

Go and go and go just

Drive me home and back again

Here I lay

Just like always

Don't let me

Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go

Take me to the edge

[aster-draws]

Identity shenanigans are a hallmark of all superhero fanfictions and i will never get tired of writing them.

This is from chapter 19 of my fic Better Halves (and other such falsehoods) which is like 100k (so far) of Tim and Danny being idiots like this please go read it it's a labor of love.

just the painted bit below the cut :) if you want it

[hwaslayer]

😔🥺 *sigh*

[ants-personal]

also wouldn't it have been something if instead of walking out to meet the cops to die benson instead turned to randy after cracking his neck fake carefree smile on his face as he takes the gun out and points it randys head randy still calls out for benson and benson just says randys name back maybe he was gonna say more but it doesnt matter cause benson is still shot in the head blood splattering on randy and all over the counter laying on the floor at randys feet blood pooling

[juricore]

from the rose of versailles side story "the countess in black": funniest reaction to seeing someone classically handsome that ive ever seen in my life. no. funniest THREE reactions:

[ceasarslegion]

Well that's my last night shift done. I'm back on days as of this week.

I also have an exam for a job opportunity on Monday and an interview on Wednesday if I pass the exam. So wish me luck for that and maybe I won't have to be stuck at the most thankless job in the world for much longer

[lilacwants]

any advice for a girl whose love life rn is LITERALLY the song casual by chappel roan? my whole heart is in this man’s hands. hes the reason ive been so inactive…. (boo 👎🏻) pls help im going insane.

[arolesbianism]

I wish So Bad that I could confidently recommend lob corp and library of ruina to people because they're both genuinely rly good games and I also need ppl I know to understand the insanity that is project moon but like godddd they are a fucking Investment. Both in time and in brainpower. I generally think ppl exaggerate how hard lob corp is but it's certainly not easy and when it does get hard it gets HARD. Also it literally requires at least one day 1 reset (basically a new game+) to fully beat the game and at this point I've done at least 10. And for lor I'm not nearly as far in and I'm just scratching the surface of the real game but it's a beast of its own. Also 100+ hours and also hard as hell. Like this game does not fuck around with its difficulty spikes it will make you use your brain and it will give you a damn headache in the process. It's also one of my favorite card combat games I've ever played with mechanics that just so beautifully complement each other to create a dynamic and interesting battle system that gives it a completely different vibe and feeling than any other deck builder games I've played to the point where it almost feels wrong to me to categorize them together. But also I am not even slightly joking abt the headache thing every time I play this damn game I close it with a horrible headache and have to take a multi day break. I think everyone should experience this with me <3

[jameslongforjimshortforgabriel]

chappell roan's "the rise and fall of a midwest princess" doing some shit to my brain chemistry rn

[rpfisfine]

alex's job description for every intro: look beautifully into the camera, nod at everything aleksa is saying, occasionally exclaim "yeah", "yep" and things of this nature, sometimes even say a sentence or two. nothing else

[suckinitup]

metaphorically i get the removing taylor’s powers thing- and the fact that. yknow. its a good way to make sure she cant get into more trouble, her passenger cant get her into more trouble, and she doesnt draw attention to herself. and she would have!!! if she still had her powers she would keep causing problems!!! keep solving them!! find a new mission and keep Moving. its all neat and tidy, pulling out the rot, removing everything that isnt Taylor and letting her sew the pieces of herself back together. but. in my heart. bug girl cool.

[brokebacker4life]

if u dont fw chappell roan I DONT FW U🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️

[ispyspookymansion]

oh okay so the battery is fucking crazy

[jamesheathridge]

the ultimate chrisrandy dynamic to me is chris is insanely into randy and disguises it as bullying and randy wants absolutely nothing to do with him

[dreadark]

apparently in Reclamation Algorithm there's a special enemy raid of giant crabs you get for killing/eating too many crabs

...which sounds like a mew under the truck type joke. and I could not find a single recording of it but luckily(?) that did not stop me from trying

and finally... a day before Fire Within The Sand closes...

but anyway here's the raid. it really is crab Ifrit had a nice barbeque

[koggthryn]

vi. willow street

in the rose creek house, where you learn for the first time that, for some, the world has neat edges. and in the cab of dad's truck, road maps are spilling out from under the seats, are plastering the dashboard, are fading and softening in the heat. you, crouched on the curb, watching and watching and waiting. there is a light at the end of the street, beside the willow, and it is flickering. the willow is shuddering. neighborhood children, knuckles like switchblades and smiles all wrong, all cruel, stop there, look down at the asphalt below. as though the end of their selves lives there. look around, a little confused. seem to have forgotten how they came to be here.

vii. disappointed father

smoke and cold sweats in the truck's cab. a cigarette ember filters back in, lands in our little sister's lap. we watch it burn a hole through her. and he is growling, still. is growing over with that rage he's infected with. WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU? what have you been told? HOW MANY TIMES? will you keep forgetting this? LOOK AT ME. LOOK ME IN THE EYES. but he is grotesque in the rearview mirror, burnt neck and grizzled cheek. mold in his eyes, soot and carcinogens on his lips. and we will dream this every night: the constellations drifting apart, becoming unmoored. his mind and his fist further from each other than ever before. we will dream of taking him apart, limb from limb, orion and his belt coming undone, the sick pop of a ligament in his ankle, the grinding of his joints and heel-toe march. we will pull his eyes from his skull, hold them out from us. we will refuse to be the first to look down.

viii. seaward

we have been here before, another dead end, another sea and sky. chillier, blacker. further from god than before, we have seen the end again and again. we have always turned back, we have always sought more.

ix. relapse

she wakes to tv static and her mother, calling her to dinner. she is walking down the hallway, and the static is still a dull roar in her head. and she wakes again. and she wakes again. and her mother's still calling, she's moaning for her, COME, DAUGHTER, COME, to find her way home, to pray over dinner, to WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE

x. ruination

IT IS THE END, IT IS THE END. the harvest is past, and we are still not saved.

xi. trilogy

god the father, the son, and the holy spirit. an old man foaming at the mouth, belt and broken bottle in hand. that lost boy on his dirt bike, dark eyes shadowed in shame, a blooming at his lip and brow. a crow carrying some rosary, and the beads slide off, roll to a stop beneath the holly bushes, where we buried baby birds and the last of our polly pockets.

'23 september prompts days 6-11 | @nosebleedclub