#love the anxiety for me

[lavenderlhymes]

the clamor in the background is deafening to my ears. i’m begging and clawing for inspiration to appear—a thread, a string, a loose end to follow. i just want a tale to swallow. i want you to spin me a story with your fingers sticky from the apple you carve and honeyed words tricky. a narrative of love and passion, romance and fate, to distract from the noise and captivate.

—a longing for a museful escapade

[mirpkechi]

this is me btw . . . me when online frienfds . . . me when close mutuals . . . me talking to the silly people in my phone . . .

[inkskinned]

i got my isbn today for the book. 8 months to go. my mom and i were talking about what the next steps are. i was eating trail mix, standing on one foot, phone tucked into my ear.

"yeah," i said. "the problem is that tumblr as a market is like, not something that can be studied." there's this weird wave of nostalgia and affection for this place that came up over me: how lovely we avoid consumerism. okay, it sucks as a creator. but also? keep stickin' it to 'em.

my mother made the sound at the back of her throat that i also make, the one that means i've got an idea. "you should figure out some kind of reward for presale amounts. maybe you give out poems or a mug or a signed book or something. would your followers like that?" my mother is sweet, and kind, and i have no idea how to explain on this website you can buy someone crabs.

i put more m&ms down the hatch. i had to speak through peanuts and almonds. "if it passes 25 thousand i will print the book out in its entirety and eat it live on camera."

"oh god. no, you don't have to do that." she was anguished. "just tell them that you'd love them to read it, and that they've inspired you to write. you got started on that site, and they helped you keep going. raquel, you love these people. the community? you talk all the time about the other writers and artists and whatever else. tell them that you're hoping for their support, they'll come through."

"no," i assured her. i discovered i had dropped an m&m, but an ant had already found it, so it belonged to him now. i will let his little life have a surprise blue treasure in it, too. "i'm gonna fuckin' eat the book."

[royaltea000]

he could not control the class 😔

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Normal Friend Behaviour.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[suokumi]

Short summary of LDR by @spadillelicious

[starvedvampire]

the reason i find stuff like hypnosis and aphrodisiacs so alluring is that they’d just allow my brain to calm the fuck down: no anxiety, no overthinking, no intrusive thoughts, nothing.

just a constant state of aroused bliss, knowing i’m safe in the arms of the person i’m sharing this with and yielding to them.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

[lazylittledragon]

do any other artists feel like. yeah you're a 'good artist' because you draw things that look nice, but like. TECHNICALLY? you're really not great

i really hate that i can recognise that yes, my art is good, but is it VARIED? is it dynamic?? is my anatomy good? is it full of texture and colour theory? do i know how to do This? can i do That? no, not really. and that's quite painful actually

[serendippertyy]

me as a horse

[reapersynth]

eddie diaz + text posts

[qifreyplushie]

promise you'll never leave me

[comatosebunny09]

the quiet game [ snip ] | sylus

‘i need you’

It’s a simple text, yet it blares through the mire that his room’s sunken into. Has him sitting up in his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pushing his hair back, and the sheet’s soft as it glides down his bare torso to puddle around his waist.

His thumb hovers over your message. Quivers and twitches. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath or counting his heartbeats until he blinks, waiting for you to finish. Watching those telltale bubbles appear and disappear as you struggle to form more words—more context.

But you don’t.

And it isn’t normal for you to be so brief—so cryptic. Which could mean one of two things: you’re genuinely in peril or playing a sick, cruel joke on him.

He opts for the former, used to these phases you occasionally lapse into. Where your messages lack their usual luster. He can feel the dark undertones of your words curling around him through the screen. And something cold sinks into his belly, its talons clawing at his heart.

You need him.

He’s on his feet without thinking. Pouring himself into his jeans, shrugging into a shirt, tugging his boots on. Moving with a sense of purpose through the quieted halls of his mansion, stopping only to grab his leather jacket from the coat rack and to shove his motorcycle keys into his pocket.

The underground garage swallows him whole, and the shadows of the basement dance across his features, hanging between the set of his jaws and the glabellar lines forming between his brows.

Luke and Kieran peer curiously from an alcove after Sylus’ exit. Fix each other with comically perturbed looks. Even beneath the veil of their masks, they read each other’s expressions, and they shrug.

Whatever’s got their boss on edge is none of their concern—yet. He’ll call them if he needs backup.

They’re sure of it.

[stardink]

"I don't know if they understand that sometimes, I'd just like to stay the same."

[dizzeycheizzy]

I MADE A JOYXIETY ANIMATION

EAT UP PEOPLE🗣️🗣️🗣️🙏

[beetle-baguette]

Merde