#this means nothing do not overthink this

[benjaminalphabet]

tonight you and me finally find ourselves back in the good graces of the stars.

under full moon, rainfall, i give no confessionals.

it's a blessing, i feel no pull to reach for it -

i do feel some sort of absence when you leave,

but it isn't yours or mine.

this is something like peace.

momentary divinity,

and this is not what i thought it would be.

i realize, almost without noticing, that i cannot lie to you.

i don't want play a fool, nor pull any pretty veil over your closed eyes.

i have never been able to pretend to be anything i am not. even when i have tried;

painted myself purple and red; like a bruise's sweet colors, played less innocent than i am,

played doves, played villain, played hard to get, played cards and uglier games across others' wooden tables.

i am no fever dream.

i am no glittering highway driver, i fell out of an exhilarated and brief echoing of danger with my life in my hands.

i took off in the night, trying not to lose any more pieces of myself while i flew.

i am the runaway.

i am the ship lost at sea but i am not the water that engulfs or consumes.

could you love a chasm,

or the rushing white water at its bottom?

of course not,

i am a place you could never swim nor float gently. you would be swept away in my current;

and why would we even try?

i am a suicide mission.

i shatter glass, i am both the hammer and the hand holding it.

stare at these cathedrals inside of me and tell me if you can find any place to worship.

now that i realize what a sacred thing it is to be fragile yet intact,

you've become something i don't dare reach out to, i cannot hold you close enough to keep, nor tight enough to break.

i must be gentle now, although it is not in my nature.

i long so deeply to be beautiful.

i would trade this resilience for ease without thought.

i would give up all i've learned, be naive and trusting, stumbling over my own feet,

if it meant i could be soft again.

there is an ache inside of me to hold some kind of celestial eloquence in my hands

and make it seem easy.

stars burn hot and dense,

liquid time, infectious gas -

i was never able to breathe standing on the sun

but i did try.

i did try.

like Icarus i have a pair of scorched and melted wings that will not heal.

i will never get that close to warmth again, i will never fly again.

i have never been the accidental type.

i have never been clumsy enough to trip and fall into love, or hit my head against devotion on the way down.

i have never been that effortless.

you are something like the petaled creature i thought i was, i am more like the ominous yet well meaning ravens that fly overhead in this storm.

you are no monster, and i am not sweet enough.

compare me to a cavern,

crystalized, sparkling, sharp,

one wrong step and i could collapse.

danger! danger! do not enter!

compare me to a labyrinth,

dark, claustrophobic, twisted,

you may never find your way out of here.

i have seen deeper, murkier depths,

held my breath and pushed toward the bottom.

that is where i found the peace within silence, at the very depths of Mariannas Trench.

i have ugly ghosts to admit to,

and i have loved ugly men,

i am the succubus apologist,

i lived between dusty red asbury walls,

and i loved it there.

i'll tell you all about it someday;

when the pain is just stories, and the places i've been don't still ache and howl inside of me like the aurora borealis.

there is some cruel and dying truth that still sits in my stomach,

there is some pathetic and still-bargaining part of my soul that is reaching for something i have lost.

i keep myself like a deadly secret,

tuck these memories into bed like a child,

and let the true weight of them slip to no one.

so, like a wildfire i spread out,

i burn out in some places, engulf and thrive in others.

the deader the wood, the more damage i can do.

catch me if you can,

but what will you find when you do?

do you think you could stomach the parts of me that roll around in their shame,

like pigs in the mud?

can you love me as you would a wild dog,

too fast, constantly chasing some phantom moonlit dream? rabid, vicious, unpredictable?

would you shout the profanities necessary to make me leave,

fool me for both our sake?

could you love me as something that has never been loved before,

a wounded animal in a cage,

something that might lash at you at any moment?

i am as equally unreal behind glass as i am on a leash, i am as equally trustworthy with your head in my jaws as i am with my stomach exposed.

can you ask for me without sudden movements?

without grand gestures,

declarations, reservations?

can you do it all with the understanding that,

although i was once,

i might not be fully human?

i have this infinite galactic gap inside me.

lately i am navy like outer space, a vacuum.

it is not quite nothingness,

it is not quite darkness.

it is the absence of even that.

it's clear that me and god haven't finished our conversations yet.

we have not come to an understanding;

and so i cannot reckon with you,

with anyone,

or any of the sweet helpless things i used to think i wanted.

i hold this feeling close to me, and the wall of this dam has become a sacred and holy ground to me.

once it breaks i will drown.

so, i have learned that there is merit in solidity, even if the sacrifice is a reserve to solitude.

i play my glistening part, i'm melodic and melancholy and so much fun! and no one ever has to know

how restless waters have shaken me.

i must be careful with my damaged bow, my torn and tattered sail,

my hands and body are not what they once were.

ask me after many days have passed,

once the flood is over and i've relearned how to walk,

after you've watched me take my first shaky steps towards trust -

will you tell me if it was worth it then?

for now i'm not sure.

my brokenness calls me back to the alter,

to worship.

i am praying again,

my knees bloody and raw again,

my knuckles chapped and red, folded hands in a desperate need.

i am begging for mercy again,

and in this water i have no raft, no driftwood,

i must swim,

i need all my limbs, all my strength,

and i would love to save you too;

i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry

i cannot sacrifice myself again.

7.21.24 || untitled, unimportant.

some horrible ugly confessional

[mars-ipan]

my fellow anxiety havers what is one of your mundane day-to-day tasks that should by no means be anything remarkable but feels like you are being hunted for sport. i’ll go first: putting all of your groceries on the conveyor belt during checkout is like a long series of quick time events to me

[derrygirlstrash]

Not to start shit, if you know me you know I'm a "ship and let ship" kinda gal and saying this I truly have no problem with James/Orla as a ship it harms no one and plenty of people like it, I like people having fun... that said...

I have never understood the common argument that James/Erin as a ship makes no sense and James/Orla should have been the ship instead. Often one of the arguments is that James/Erin wasn't set up while James/Orla was and I'm sorry... what? James/Erin have at least one ship heavy episode each season as well as plenty of background moments and several significant moments in Erin's Diary.

Even if you ignore all the background moments of the two holding hands, being inside each others personal space, the times where they're clearly matching and whatnot. There is at LEAST the implication that Erin would ignore her supposed crush for James, that she cares what he thinks, that Erin is James's type, that they're aligned in creative values and match each others energies, that Erin thinks he's handsome, that James thinks she's beautiful, that she can't imagine her life without him, etc.

James/Orla have some touchy moments... that's kinda all they have as far as romantic coding and I don't see how those two hugging in the Season 2 finale is somehow more significant than what setup James/Erin have throughout all the seasons.

Honestly, while I can see Orla liking James - you could build a case for it and convince me even though I see Orla as ace/aro in my own personal headcanons... no one has ever been able to give me a convincing argument for James liking Orla back. It kinda feels like you have to ignore that he never has a reason to fancy Orla back and just project onto him that.

Which, again, go off if that's your bag I think their friendship is fun and I could see making a ship out of it, but the common argument is that the SHOW makes a better case for James/Orla and like, no? No it really doesn't? It's just not main girl/main boy and some people really don't like that trope or Erin as a main and I think that if you say the show didn't set up James/Erin well and you argue the show would have been better with James/Orla based on what's in the show, you just might not like Erin very much?

I've also never been able to make sense of the argument that James/Erin is somehow the trope that 'guys and girls can't just be friends' like, is that not also James/Orla? Y'know, besides that Orla isn't a girl. They do use she/her during the show time period though and some people who argue this think Orla is a girl, they just think they're not THE girl. So somehow it's better even though it's the same thing.

Basically what I'm saying is that shipping is fun and we all oughta do it. Every ship besides the obvious ones is potentially fun and I'm down for it, but there is one ship the show was setting up and we all know what that ship was and I think it would be better if we all were honest about it.

PS: "James was gay the whole time!" Truthers, if you made it through this post somehow I'd like to offer a compromise: James Maguire is the most bisexual coded male character in media history we can all win here.

[macksartblock]

Anthony: Okay, now it is Normal’s turn.

Will: Okay, Normal-

Anthony: Your dad is holding his turn until after you do something. Lark’s aiming at the Doodler - you are standing between him and the Doodler.

I am sitting here staring at the floor Anthony. I need to know if these sentences were two entirely different points and you were referencing Sparrow as waiting or if these are connected thoughts please—

[lord-squiggletits]

I was at a "making friends" kind of social event just this past week and ended up having two subsequent conversations with different people that gave me an interesting reflection on my own reasons for writing without me even intending to make the conversation about it.

First conversation: The person talked about the feeling of awe from being at a music concert and how incredible it is that so many complete strangers can be united by a singular love of music. I related to it with regards to my own writing and how many people have read my stuff. Ended up telling this guy about some of the AO3 comments I've gotten from people to the effect of helping motivate them to live/just reflect on life in general. Somehow went into a tangent about a suicidal friend of mine who died when we were in high school, and me saying that maybe the reason I write so much about the things I do is because of the influence his death had on me. And the other person ended up asking me, 'So do you think it's like every time you write, you're doing it in his memory in a way?'

Subsequent conversation was with someone who was a psychologist for a day job, and I ended up telling them that I was kind of thinking of getting a degree in psychology/therapy one day because writing about mental health issues had gotten me so interested in the world of helping people heal themselves. But then I was also like, "Well, I don't know, it could be that I don't need to become a psychologist to help people with mental health. Maybe helping people by being a writer and telling stories is enough."

It was just a surprising, but topical realization for me to have talking to a bunch of strangers. For someone like me who's often preoccupied with doing and having knowledge and expertise, I often fall into the idea that you need to be directly involved in helping people to really be making a difference. I've literally had thoughts in my mind along the lines of "I'm so smart, hardworking, and dedicated when it comes to writing, but wouldn't it have been so much more of a net gain to the world if I'd decided to be this passionate about something like being a doctor or activist that actually helps people?" It's not like I truly regret being a writer (or ever will, because there's nothing else that I love so much), but in my bad moments I truly do sometimes think "Why does it make a difference if I entertain people or make them feel nicer for a while if it doesn't actually change anything in the world?" To quote one of my favorite Transformers fics of all time, "There was nothing that would have been more worthwhile, but that didn't rule out the possibility that the whole damn universe was wasting its time."

I guess the answer is that making someone feel better, even in a small way, is changing the world, even if it's just a few people, and even if it's just as simple as making someone's day better.

[jrueships]

can you please walk us through the relationship between wemby and jabari the people need to know

i think the most notable thing about vic and Jabari's relationship is that they don't have one, when it would be so beneficial if they did. they're like two soldiers fighting for the opposite sides of a war, too loyal to the cause to stop and think about what could have been if they just lowered their respective weapons aimed by cold hands larger than their own. foils by fate, friends by freedom.

' remember, you will Always be Different. '

' remember, you will Always be Replaceable. '

'Replaceable'

Jabari's dad made it in the NBA, then didn't. He was a big that could shoot, but wasn't a post-up man. Back then, post-up was the desired style. Ironically, now, it's all about shooting. But his dad didn't live in the now, and his career in the US was short-lived, to keep it cordial. Jabari's older brother played basketball throughout his whole life, but stopped after college. Jabari's cousin, Kwame Brown, was drafted 1st overall in the lottery, and became a notorious bust for the Washington wizards.

Basketball is a business. Basketball is fleeting.

It doesn't matter that a big with sharpshooter skills is valued as something so 'prized' in today's nba, not back then, not when it would have mattered for Jabari's dad. Making it is one ballpark in its own, but Staying in it? Can perhaps be an even more painful ordeal when the hoops to accomplish it aren't circus hoops, but a plain hill some just don't have the strength, mentality, or the materials to help climb without distraction or pitfall.

Jabari's dad made sure Jabari had this threat forever ingrained in his mind. When he yells at Jabari for misplaced eye contact, for typing the wrong words in a public social media reply, for reacting in a way a camera might misinterpret, it's out of love. Jabari's dad was known for being a hassle to coach back then, maybe because he knew his potential and no one else did because it was too new to the mold. So he makes sure Jabari doesn't follow his same habits. Jabari is polite to authority, simply replies with a 'Yes Sir' or a 'No Ma'am', he holds eye contact, he wakes up hours before he needs to just to jump rope, just to uphold the standards that his family could not. He is Everything his father is and isn't, plus more. When his team wins, he's still talking about his missed freethrows even 8 hours later. Because someone else could have won the game And hit those free throws too . someone from a family that gained success and stayed in that success. Someone who wasn't Just Another Son of a basketball player trying to do what his father couldn't, someone who was Different .

Everyone knew wemby was different. When his literature class was asked to write an essay about your future dreams in life, he wrote a fictional romance about a couple where the woman got in a car accident and was comatosed as a result, but got better in the end. He didn't write about being a great basketball player one day, because his parents don't pressure him to hunker himself into the norm, even though his mother once was and now coaches. If Wemby one day realized this wasn't for him, they would encourage him to leave and follow whatever greater passions propelling him. He's so agile for his size because his dad was an Olympic talent in track and field. He is someone who has hobbies and talents that are considered common alone, but strange combined, because he loves what he has and what he does. He reads every night for one hour before bed not to appear as some pseudointellectual, but because he Genuinely loves it, and when he loves something, he excels at it. He does try to be different, but not out of ego. He just loves to be. He either accomplishes at 200% or zero. It may be 200% in an unexpected direction, but it's His direction and that's what matters. If he somehow does wind up a bust, a possibility he considers without fear but acceptance as potential fate, then he won't go down as yet another failed first pick. He'll fall as he flew, Victor Wembanyama.

' Different '

' Replaceable'

Jabari winces each time he's subbed out, even for a second, even on an injured ankle, he's silently Stubborn, his posture shrunken and his gaze at the ground yet his eyes, big, wobbling, staring up always at the speaker, he's silently scared.

Jabari doesn't Want to be different. He just wants to be what his family couldn't be when it came to fame: irreplaceable . His parents split when he was younger, he tries his hardest to appease them both as to not cause any more issues. The relationship relies on his shoulders more than ever, and he can't fumble it again. He has to be what his dad couldn't so his dad can stay, commenting on commonality or surprises. He wants to support his still working mother, especially after the split. He doesn't Want to be unique, he just wants Security.

Because this can crumble any moment now, it doesn't matter how high your pick was or how bright the future Could Have been or how the game would later shift to your style if you had just somehow Stayed. Why bet on low chances if you know you can't handle the risk. He shakes any college coaches' hands that showed up to his practices, personally thanks them for coming even though he's one of the best in the country so their presence should be a given to him, it's not. When he picks a college, he picks one that guaranteed their faith in him from day One, and didn't require any further prodding to finally say '.. Maybe we'll offer you a position' like Kentucky did, as big and famous as it is, it wasn't Secured . They saw him as a risk at one point, and that's everything he's been trying to avoid when it came to attention, negatively standing out.

Jabari wants to be known as the strong shoulder to the world. He WANTS to be known as That One Guy who can just carry everything, nameless but Good. He just wants to be Good. Please tell him he's good. Please tell him what he's doing is Good. That basing his entire personality around yet another soldier who ultimately fell in battle but fought nonetheless being nameless is Good. Please feel free to give him all your burdens to bear like he's just some mule, an animal, a Tool .. because that means he's Useful, at least. That means he's Good. And if he isn't good, then he's nothing. Because you can always just buy another one anyways. A better one.

'Different'

Although his parents try not to treat Wemby by simplifying his differences into a strictly labeled, simple FUTURE BASKETBALL PRODIGY box at birth, that doesn't mean that can always stop others from doing it. Wemby signed his first autograph at ten years old.

It didn't matter if he was a kid who was so much more than just his basketball future, basketball fans wanted one thing from him and one thing only: Success. People didn't care about his literary skills or his drawing hobbies. The eyes on his alien needed to be smaller 'so your shoe can sell better, trust us, it's still Your drawing.. your weird little .. not money-making hobby, do believe me, Vic, We know what We're doing. You just stick to whatever you do.'

His differences, in the end, are minimalized just to that. He's just Different. That's what everyone says who wouldn't really care to say anything at all if he never hooped as well as they wanted in the first place. The youtube videos of 40 year old men criticizing his 15 year old games didn't Really care if he was just a kid, they just cared in the 'imagine when he reaches peak physicality? imagine the points (money) he'd make for the nba.' His beautiful differences, artistic, soft, unique but oh-so wonderfully common and passionate.. are all dissolved into 'Different', the Base definition.

he's an alien. Someone you can just dump all your poverty franchise worries onto because don't worry, he's Different. Trust me, he'll save your team. 'He's Different. ..am i talking about how he'd effortlessly answer questions in class while also trying to hide the fact that he's playing on his phone by tucking his bony legs awkwardly in his chair and crouching his spine over that it looked almost scary? HELL NO? what does THAT have to do with BASKETBALL?? no, he's just freakishly long, but like. Gifted. Though. ... I don't know, man, he's just DIFFERENT, okay? you can trust me, i'm a sports podcaster, okay? everything i say is gold.'

A celebrity approaches him because he was different than most famous basketball athletes. He was Different. And yet, when he didn't recognize or notice her presence due to Different cultures ( due to Being Genuinely, Detailedly Different ), he was scorned and ushered out of public eye so another possible pr bomb couldn't injure his reputation as a Difference That They Really Would Rather Not Want.

that's what his reading falls into, his old friends, his family, his art, his personality. If it's beyond ball, if it's beyond Business. The world only cares if it's marketable. Sure, some reporters will ask a question outside of sport, but only because it'll be a Different.. funny little nugget of knowledge for fans to laugh at then soon disregard for what Really made him famous. But, Wemby is what he always wanted to be. He's Different. So What if it's not exactly the kind of Different he actually wants, he actually functions on? No one has the time to perform 200% anymore. Slap the label you wanted and call it quits, stop being so High-Maintenanced. That's not marketable.

You're just different. And to some people, that's all you'll ever be. No need to explore it any further. Who knows, your Consumers might find something they won't like. And we can't risk that happening to our greatest circus freak.

i mean. Generational basketball talent .

If there's a press conference going on that somehow includes the two, then Wemby just wants to be sure everyone can hear what he really wants to say, in his own words, not echoing anyone else's, and Jabari just wants to Be in the Room.

His brother stopped playing basketball because his family said he didn't try hard enough. Jabari Can't have that. His whole life revolves Around basketball, around sport. He doesn't WANT to be DIFFERENT if that isn't the soundest option, he just wants to be GREAT. Because GREAT is SUCCESS. Jabari Smith is not success. It's just a retry at it . His father shares the same name.

Wemby's life did not always revolve around basketball, to people, at one point. At one point, Wemby's life was just his life. Now, it seems like only his family think that, and they're from a whole other country. When he comments on videos critiquing his playstyle, he doesn't do so out of anger or questioning, he does so because he genuinely Wants to improve. He Does want to be great. But, he wants to be great in Everything that he finds interesting. He always did. When he likes an author, he reads All their books, not just their most notorious novel. He wants to be transported into other people's worlds so he can learn, so he can change, so he can be Different. Even if he somehow were to lose all of this fame, this Greatness, this job, this opportunity, he will never really lose. Because he's someone who's always taken opportunities to the fullest, so even if they pan out a little differently, that's Fine, really, because he's different. Not in the minimizing, dictionary definition then leave the meaning at that different, but in the butterfly effect. What he once was ten days ago is not exactly the same of what he is now, and it hurts, sometimes, when people fail to see that, or simply don't want to because textbook different is easier to digest than worldly different.

IN SHORT.. theyre foils. i can't Exactly walk u thru their relationship bcs .. there Isn't one.. & that's what's so Interesting about them. That's what makes their relationship, to me. Because if they WERE to be friends, if they somehow in some alternate world WERE to get paired up on the same team... they would be friends. I really think they would be. Not only because their signs are so compatible, or their differences are so stark, but because their similarities would triumph everything beautifully. Maybe. We don't know because they Weren't paired together, we can only speculate. But i think it would be big and beautiful, whatever they would have, it would be Something.

unfortunately, we don't live in an alternate world where they're teammates though ! Double unfortunately, Jabari and Wemby's biggest similarity is their loyalty to the game (a double-edged sword in both their lives from Jabari's silent unhealthy desire to be limited and Wemby's silent desperation not to be) Wemby, in Jabari's eyes, is Indeed a powerful...

Problem.

He's not really a person to him . In all fairness, no one really is when they're involved in the basketball world, not to Jabari, not from the way he's been taught. Everyone's supposed to be Replaceable, a faceless tool in the pocket of good business.

.. except for This freakazoid. Apparently.

APPARENTLY, he's some supposed 'saint'. someone to be feared for being more. APPARENTLY, the reporters just LOVE yapping about him SO much, that Jabari HAS to take the time out of his training just to talk about some guy who doesn't even GO here, yet when they ask him about his opinion on future prospects. WELL, that's ALL wemby IS to Jabari, just another future prospect. Just another problem.

A problem he'll be sure to check off his list.

... okay, so Maybe he's a bit more than a problem.. maybe.. he's just a really persistent problem? yeah, that's it, nothing more. Jabari will work through this. He Always does. That's what he does well, Work.

Wemby wonders if that's all he ever does .

But he doesn't have long before Jabari's marching down the tunnel to beat himself up over all his mistakes other people would never make, and Wemby's being escorted to an interview that other people would never make solely to show how Much he just Stands Out as a soul... in basketball .

I hope they find each other in basketball, and out of it as well. I just feel like

Something would Happen

[maladaptivedaydr3amer]

You know sometimes I cry about my older brother because you know what if he does something to himself and I’m the reason he does it you know.

[bellamyroselia]

I was looking through various trainers PWT-teams, and made an interesting discovery - Crispin shares half of his team with Flannery for some reason and Drayton is somehow even worse in this regard, sharing 2/3 of his team with Lance.

Sure, they have different movesets and items, the battles are in a completely different format, it likely means nothing at the end, but it still stuck into my mind. Like let's imagine for a moment that it does mean something - with Drayton, one could just chug it into him being lazy and copying most of his team from someone he not only idolizes, but has proven that said team works. It could also possibly imply that his Archaludon and Sceptile were some of his first Pokemon, but that's a topic for another time. Crispin honestly has no excuse for copying Flannery though

[therosevest]

ok so i was over at sam’s place again for dinner and was introduced to tico (random faggy blonde dude of italian descent) but somehow just dodged roommate and they came down later for a sec while patd was playing lol and made a comment just sorta to themself abt the album cover vs brendon just standing there on the tv pic and i was like yeah heinous um anyway and then when they came back down they were kind of awkward but friendly but just yeah sort of awkward and on their phone only sorta following the convo while we’re yapping but then they stepped in to have me comment on some dudes response to a pic they posted with tico and i was like yas ok handsome squidward and then once again i’m being rather chatty w sam and tico and lydia and don’t find my moment to be like ‘hi i’m -‘ try as i might and then they’re heading out and we didn’t get an introduction but they paused and like waved a playful little goodbye with a little smile. in their stupid little skeleton fingerless gloves. yeah my type is turning out to be weird little scemo dudes. anyway so is this sufficient enough an acknowledgement for two sort of odd off putting people for me to ahead and follow them and try the social media game and see how it goes perhaps shoot my shot or do i stay chill and mysterious and wait till next time and try to officially introduce us and go from there

[seaofreverie]

Every once in a billion years I suddenly get very lucky and pick up one band merch delivery on one day, and then get another band merch delivery from another band on the very next day

[foolbo]

sometimes i panic and i go "if i start dc-posting more again now that im out of my massive reading slump the new qsmp followers might get mad at me" or "omg my dc followers are probably all so annoyed that i pivoted so hard into qsmp after being a strictly dc blog for years" and then i realize that im just a dude on tumblr with like 700 followers most of which do not actively keep up with my page or give a shit what i post. i literally disappeared of the face of tumblr for like 4 months before and nobody went "oh my god actually you fucking suck and i hate you"

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

somebodyyy tell scam to stop dwelling on the past

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

good lord my brain is running laps and i just wanna knock it out and get some goddamn sleep

[cartoonybus]

i mean this genuinely and in the least passive-aggressive manner possible, but i do not get why people hc sherman as asexual

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[exopelagic]

i said i wouldn’t do it this time but it’s 3am and mods asleep. boy