#its written for me

[disproportionatelysculpting]

I have many memories flooding in me, nostalgia has it's grip around my neck.

From that summer days lying on the floor with my cousin and falling asleep, to going to my favorite park, traffic park in Nagpur with dad and trying to reach the sky on swing to playing with a girl who became my bestie in a day or two who told me that when plane crosses from your house, don't go on roof or they will give you a rose and kidnap you and so many more insane lies, to visiting my neighbors house and watching om shanti om for first time on that bhaiya's pc to going to restaurant, Rasoighar, the name of the place, as a prize on getting good marks. I remember being enchanted by the lights there and the simple decoration that felt like wonderland to me back them. I remember feeling happy.

From sitting in train on summer vacation waiting to reach my nani's house, playing silly games with my sisters, sacrificing my eyebrows to be done with a rubber band because my sister learned that from her friend, to sharing lotte choco pie chopped into little quadrants in whole family because it was new to market and dad bought one pack with family of 9 kids and many more adults, to the time I slipped and wounded my pinky toe because me and my sister thought it would be nice idea to slip on soap floor while bathing and the cows my nani took care of, the garden was green for most times, my nana's hobby. I remember feeling home.

From watching the carpet of Parijat each morning of springs with dad while I waited to be picked up for school, to that embarrassing memory of me running in school during lunch because my parents visited school and I wanted to look cool, to all the didis and friends in my auto and that one time driver uncle treated us with popsticks, and I stained all of my shirt and skirt with it, to the colony where we waited for other students and the koyal's voices singing early morning, to the boy I danced with for school programs, to playing with all those forgotten faces and nameless humans with crayon shreds and sharpeners. But I remember I was smiling noticing things.

From chopping my hair and throwing out of balcony, front side of the apartment that too, to visiting the house beside ours that looked like a mansion to me back then, to that aunty putting mishri mala around me on Holi to stealing unripe mangoes from the trees from a neighbor's house, to going to my mausi's apartment and all those unfamiliar alleys and roads.

From the weird chaos on my birthdays to the times my dad fed me each day and how I threw a hand on dad and one on mum while sleeping to show I loved them equally while sleeping, to being recorded dancing by my dad while my mum singed the songs and I danced around and sitting on the walls watching Ganesh visharjan with nani and eating ice cream because I got my teeth removed that day from by a dentist and to the time I was left at my dad's friend house and all the fun I had with his daughters.

There are so many more I didn't wrote but those times were so nice, some were not, but most were, or they seemed. Because

From being beaten by my mother over something silly and told to sit out of house on stairs for hours until I said sorry, to my dad putting pencils in between my fingers each time I made mistake in maths, to getting scolded because I couldn't cycle properly when I was learning it to that friend's father death, I saw his dead body in coffin and people crying, I was crying in my room later, I didn't know why back then , I was a kid, death was a foreign concept, to the countless time I fell and broke my knees and lips and burnt my hand, to that night my dad was watching a robbery documentary and I had a nightmare of being kidnapped while I was sleeping in same way, to being told how house was more peaceful when I wasn't there, and that feeling of jealousy for my unborn sibling because I was scared I will lose the love I had. I remember feeling ridiculed by my mother over simple things I thought was love.

Now that I think everything seems made up, or just unreal. Do other people remember it all? was all of this only special to me? were the smiles other gave me real? because I remember it all, the happiness I felt as a kid in this little things, how life was just simply colored and some things have left such a deep memory in me, they resurface once in a while drowning me in memories I want to relive. Those 2 and a half year of my life seems the only happy period I had in constant, ever since then I have had happy moments but not a happy period of life. I wish it didn't lose it colors and every feeling stayed the same. But is that past even same as I remember? would it have been different if we never moved here, if I didn't turn out like this? If my family didn't got more problems added? would things be different if my life like the memories never changed? I am mourning the life I lives and grieving the lost potential, but is there any way that went back and stayed same?

[mithrun-house-of-kerensil]

It made me so emotional the kindness the party treated Thistle with again and again throughout the story. Laios never wanted to hurt him even though he, in a way, took Laios's sister from him. Marcille wanted to talk to Thistle about magic even as he attacked them. Laios could have killed him but he chose to reason with him even as Thostle resisted. The party didn't abandon his body when he got eaten, they tucked him into bed like he was just sleeping. Yaad went back for his body so he wasn't left in the rumble. Laios, in the middle of the celebrations, went to check on him in hopes he would get his desires back the way Mithrun discovered he could. Oh the love in the world!!! The narrative that anyone can be taken advantage when alone and the only way to help is kindness and care!!!

To eat is to live but to eat together is to be loved.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

ITS THREE AM AND YOU KNOW WHAT THIS CANNOT KILL ME IN A WAY THAT MATTERS COMMISSION NEEDS????

S PI R A L S

[obsob]

oooooooooough i love you i love you i love you!!!! hand in loving hand !!!!!!

[k1tty5]

another design for the au i’m working on (cough cough thinking about)

[morningsaidthemoon]

Excerpt from The Song of Roland, translated by Norma Lorre Goodrich (Medieval Myths)

[orpheuslament]

isnt it amazing we live in a world where theres poetry. why is nobody else going insane about it

[aerequets]

Setting aside his food, Twilight slowly knelt on the floor, ignoring the pain of his injuries, and wrapped his arms around the large dog. Bond held still as his master buried his face in his fur, his heartbeat strong and steady in contrast with the sudden trembling that had overtaken the man’s form.

this is from chapter 4 of @cantareincminor 's amazing fic Orpheus! I feel like with autumn approaching (on my side of the world at least lol) the weather is getting perfect for reading, so you can tuck yourself in all nice and cozy and read this fic because it's nice and long >:) Thank you for the commission and happy belated birthday, Cantare!

[wild-flowerhoney]

jegulus might not be canon but have you considered that canon sucks

[shyranno]

I've been sad lately so I've been trying to boost my serotonin by drawing Jedi AU youngling trainer Maul (who I affectionately call Dad Maul)... it works :))

[ask-spiderpool]

Hey mod, are you okay? It’s been a while since you posted (no judgement!) and I just wanted to see if something was wrong. Love you and I hope you stay strong🫶🏼

Bless you anon! I appreciate you checking in! I don't post a lot of personal updates here, but I have been going through the wringer lately... hough.

Lately I've been battling with anxiety, you know, same as everyone. It's kind of made things that I used to enjoy kind of stressful for me. Everything becomes stressful for me. Even not having things to stress about makes me stressed. I'm at my most Peter Parkeriest, in the worst sort of a way.

I thought it was a brain thing – that it was all in my head. I have a new, stressful job, and a stressful living situation, and some family issues I'm dealing with. It'll pass. So I kind of tried to power through, until my body shut down on me last year. And as it turns out, when I got checked out by the doc, it's not just a brain thing. I have a tumor (her name is Lamar, and she's benign, buuut...) she's producing 5x the normal amount of stress hormone in my body. The doctors think it's insane. I think it's hilarious. I feel like it's some kind of joke.

I've been battling this ridiculous chronic stress for years, thinking it was all in my head, but actually, biologically, I'm an overflowing reservoir of stress, and it's something that can be measured in my bloodstream. And it's been going on for years!

So, lately I've been devoting a lot of time to forcing myself to relax. Doctors orders. I can't get stressed about things. Every day I have to effectively diffuse a bomb. And the bomb is me. I'm so pumped up with involuntary stress, and I have to devote my time to keeping it at a manageable level. And so there are a lot of backflips I have to do to keep myself human right now, and not turn into a bomb.

See... posting to the blog doesn't exactly calm me down. It makes me anxious, most of the time. So I've been telling myself it's okay. Only post when you feel good. You have enough things to worry about, and the blog can't be one another thing to worry about. It can only be for fun. If it doesn't feel like fun, don't do it.

I need to do a million little calming activities to function. The blog used to calm me. But it doesn't, anymore. I still love it, and I still have so many scripts I'm excited to do, but... I just have to be patient with myself, right now. I can't bug my head over something that can wait. It can wait. Right now isn't the time. My health is the most important thing. I can't get that back, if I lose it.

Right now I'm about keeping my head above water. Keeping calm. Doing meditative things, that aren't necessarily productive... (trust me, I am SO upset about not being productive. I miss it a lot) but they force me to take it slow and force me to not worry. I'm learning the banjo (she calms me), and I spend a lot more time in nature, having staring contests with ducks and pigeons, and befriending beetles and bugs.

I'm a very positive person, and I know I'll make it through, and I love myself for all the effort I'm making to keep myself from breaking. Because I know if I didn't force myself to calm down, I could snap like an elastic band. I – I don't want to break, like I did last year. I need to be good to myself. And relaxing is an effort. It takes a lot for me. And certain calming routines work for a little while, and then stop working, and I need to make the effort all over again to find something new. It's kind of insane how much time I need to calm back down again. I remember, once upon a time, it being baseline.

Luckily there's a surgical solution, so hopefully I'll be normal again soon, and there won't be any more bees buzzing in my brain!

I hope you'll all be patient with me! And hopefully I'll make it out alive and stronger than ever, soon.

[raevenswritingdesk]

The first outright not-a-joke or “one sided” gay kiss the doctor themselves has had in doctor who history happening during pride month AND with an interacial couple has me feeling so many things 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🎉

[randomfandomss]

I'm literally not saying anything but Eric's brain must have really, really short-circuited after that comment from Assad...

It's an excerpt from Eric's book 'Perforated Heart'.

[mistiell]

I’d like to think that once Astarion’s grown comfortable with physical affection, he gets a lot more affectionate with you. Especially when it comes to casual or subtler gestures.

Like an arm draped over the back of the couch when he’s sitting next to you. His arm isn’t actually touching you, but he’s got his thumb hooked just under the collar of your shirt resting idly in the soft well of your clavicle.

Hooking his foot around the back of your ankle or letting his knee press against yours under the table when he’s sitting next to you (which he always is because who else is he supposed to sit next to? Gale??)

Keeping a hold on you when you’re in a crowded space. Holding your sleeve, your wrist, linking your pinkies. Anything to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the chaos.

Always having a hand on your waist, your back, your hip. Part of it is born out of wanting to keep close to you, part of it is born out of a little bit of possessiveness — A subtler way to show you off as his.

Thumbing dirt and grime off your cheeks, adjusting your collar when it’s fallen crooked.

I feel like once he’s stopped doing it out of habit, he’s not super duper into PDA (Still loves on you, obviously. Just more casually), so it doesn’t happen super often when you’re around others, but he’ll peck your cheek or temple every so often as a greeting. Especially when you’ve been apart for short while.

If you’re wearing pants with belt loops, I feel like he’s def the type to pull you to him by them. Just loops a finger through and tugs until you get the hint.

Idk I just feel like he’d be pretty affectionate once he’s warmed up to non-sexual intimacy. Not always, he still has off days as everyone does. But even then, he usually still wants to be close to you.

[nsharks]

preview (again) of part 20 | bleeding blue :-)

The heat dissipates as you land hard.

Dread takes hold of you.

It's Blue— screaming.

You fly up to your feet, spitting dirt from your mouth, and break into a sprint. Ghost is already meters ahead, grabbing the knife from his ankle, inspiring you to do the same. Voices—unintelligible, but unmistakably human—grow clearer with each stride towards the camp. Visitors. Ruthless blood pumps in your ears. If they have dared to hurt her...

Ghost makes it there first. You part through the trees and snap your eyes over the clearing, relieved to see Blue behind the fence. Still draped in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the tip of one of her dad's rifles through a gap in the fortification, aiming at four intruders. 

"Don't come any closer or I-I will blow your heads off!"

"We're not here to hurt you," one says: grizzled. Calm.

At first glance, they don't appear threatening, but you know better than to make that sort of judgement, your fingers tightening around the handle of your knife as you ready your stance the way Ghost has taught you. Two of them are mounted upon a brown horse—a teenaged boy and a woman some years older than you—with two men flanking their sides, chests swollen in tactical gear and backs mounted with rucksacks.

Their clothes are dirtied but they don't seem helpless. The men are tall and brawny, nearing Ghost in size. The older one, who you figure was speaking to Blue, wears a tattered boon hat and sports a dense, brown beard.

You make a quick sweep of your eyes to detect any weapons and spot the distinctive 'L' of a handgun at the younger one's waist. He hasn't withdrawn it yet, even as their heads slant in your direction, but you don't wait for him to—arching the knife in one swift motion above your head.

Ghost grabs your wrist. 

His stance shifts as he stares back at them. Then, he motions for Blue to lower the gun.

You jerk your wrist free with a quiet hiss. “What are you doing?"

He doesn't spare you as much of a glance and strides brusquely across the dew-lit grass, leaving you there by the tree line. Confusion knots your stomach. He greets the bearded stranger with the gruff utterance of a name: "Price."

He... knows them. The realization hits you, widening your eyes, but you’re too bewildered to move even an inch.

A masculine gesture ensues when Ghost reaches him; a clap to his shoulder, a nod of his head. "Simon."

Simon?

Then, the younger one steps around the horse and you instinctively flinch, half-expecting him to whip out that gun of his, but instead he offers Ghost a tilt of his chin and a worn smile. "Lt."

"Kyle.”

The exchange is perfunctory. You listen from paces away, unsure where your place is in this.

Nervousness has you fiddling with the blade of your knife, needing something to do with your hands. It is difficult to make out their words for a moment, deep voices turned to short murmurs. You glance a sideways look at Blue and find her eyes rounded in curiosity.

The next words you make out are from Price. "This is my wife, Nereida," he says and helps the woman down from the horse. Even from your view, you can tell she is beautiful in a raw, Grecian way. Fatigue paints violet beneath her dark eyes, and her hair is spine-length and black.

The young boy slips down beside her.

"And this one is—"

"My nephew," Kyle says. "Ari."

Now that you're looking closer, the relation between the two is evident, from their dark skin to the smooth bridges of their nose. The boy reaches a hand out to Ghost but it is left ignored. He clears his throat and waves for Blue to come over. She hesitates for only a second before unlocking the gate and darting to his side.

"I'm, um, Blue," she introduces herself, playing with the hem of her shirt over her knees. "Sorry for... threatening to shoot you. I didn't realize you know my dad."

"We're sorry for scaring you," Nereida offers.

Blue scrunches her nose. "I wasn't scared."

[naomistares]

making crappy memes about my comic instead of working on it