thetwit
what day is it
2K posts
whatever tickles the noggin
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thetwit · 3 days ago
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🌅
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thetwit · 7 days ago
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Star Shower~
Can't wait for it to rain again in California 😭
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thetwit · 7 days ago
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My oil painting of an Uncrustable
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thetwit · 22 days ago
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thetwit · 22 days ago
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letting go
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thetwit · 22 days ago
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Art by The Unclean
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thetwit · 28 days ago
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for the angsty ideas what about clegan mutual pining for like the entire war and then gale is like "wanna be my best man lmao" because he thinks john doesn't reciprocate his feelings so he will just marry marge. at the wedding they are both in so much pain but say NOTHING. they sort of lose contact after that because the reminder of what could have been is so painful and then one day gale gets the news john died of a heart attack and he just about goes clinically insane. at the funeral john's wife then hands him a letter from john in which he confesses all his feelings to gale and gale has to live with that for the rest of his life.
i am breaking my own heart lol
WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?? ANON YOU'RE EVIL
anyway, sobbing
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John had a look in his eye that day.
He always seemed to have a look in his eye, one that was only reserved for Gale. An almost twinkle, a wink sort of, but at Gale's wedding it seemed to be an almost melancholy stare to it.
Even after the wedding, when John cornered him in the bathroom and asked him if he was doing something he'd regret, Gale couldn't look him in the eye because of how much he did regret doing this. Marrying Marge, starting a family. It wasn't what he wanted. What he wanted was right in front of him, but he could never say that to him. Not in this lifetime.
Gale could have died the day he received the phone call from Josephine. The day she said that John had succumbed to his illness, the day that John died.
He felt his heart rip in half, almost fell to ground when he hung up the phone. He had to brace himself against the wall to stop himself from vomiting, he could feel his stomach twisting and his head swimming.
Marge could tell something was wrong, and didn't accompany him to the funeral. She said it would be best if Gale went by himself.
Even at the funeral Gale felt out of place. He lurked at the edges of the memorial, standing out in his military dress greens amongst a sea of black. He kept his crusher cap over his eyes so no one could see the tears that welled up in his eyes as he saw John in his casket, far too young, but still as handsome as when Gale met him in flight school. He put his hand on the edge of the casket, wishing he could reach forward and grab John's head, maybe even daring to press a kiss to his forehead, but he clenched his fist and turned away, wandering to the edge of the cemetery and watching the rest of the memorial from afar.
Afterwards, Josephine came up to him and embraced him, kissing his cheek and giving him a sad smile. Gale smiled as much as he could back at her, hating how he felt a pang of jealousy at the ring in her finger.
"I'm sorry, Gale, I knew how much he meant to you," Josephine says and Gale shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.
"He was my best friend, I'm sorry for your loss, Josephine," Gale mutters back and Josephine gives him a tight smile.
She opens her coat and pulls a thick envelope from the pocket, paper an old cream color from age. She hands it to Gale with another tight smile.
"John wanted me to give this to you when he passed, I mean it Gale, you meant a lot to him," Josephine says and squeezes Gale's arm again.
Gale's hands shook as he took the letter, recognizing John's scratchy handwriting that scrawled "Buck" across the paper. His throat feels scratchy again and his eyes well up, but he just gives Josephine a smile before practically bolting back to his car.
Back at the car, his hands shake as much as they did the first time he flew when he broke the seal of the letter, slipping the aged paper from the envelope into his hands, trembling as he tries to read the words.
Buck, Gale,
I've always been bad at these sort of things, you know, talking about what I'm feeling. You've always been better at that sort of stuff than me. But the doc said I'm sick, terminal or something like that, so I'm going to try my best to say what I want to say.
While the war was hell on earth, while every second I was up in the air or on the ground waiting for you, I was glad I was able to do it with you. You're my best friend, Buck, but I think that what I feel for you is far more than how best friends should feel for each other. Seeing you with Marge always made me unreasonably jealous, sometimes I wished I could be her instead, I wish I could be the one on your arm instead. What I'm feeling, I know it ain't natural between two men, but I had to tell you sometime or another.
When you get this, I will probably be dead, and you'll probably hate me for what I've just said. But before you burn this letter and forget about me forever, I just want to say; I love you, Gale. More than a man should love another man. I love you so much, and you kept me alive much longer than I ever thought I would. I wish I could have said this to you in person, but the thought of losing you was too much for me to bear.
We were the only B-17's left, Gale, and I'm sorry I have to leave you behind.
Yours,
Bucky
Gale can't breathe.
His hands shake and he drops the paper into his lap, pressing a hand to his mouth and sobbing something great and ugly. It rips from him like a wild animal's anguished cry, and he lurches forward onto the steering wheel, shaking even more as he sobs again. Gale manages to grab the paper again and presses it to his lips, kisses the way that John signed his name and tries not to smudge the words with his tears.
John loved him. The same goddamn way that Gale loved him back.
And now it was too late.
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thetwit · 28 days ago
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Head in the (dark, English) clouds
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thetwit · 30 days ago
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Changing my belief system from "this is the hill I'll die on" to "this is the hill I'll kill you on" has done absolute wonders for me 10/10 do recommend
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thetwit · 1 month ago
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"Su mirada se pierde en el horizonte, donde el pasado y el presente se encuentran, y su corazón late con la nostalgia de lo que pudo ser."
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thetwit · 1 month ago
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Norman Rockwell self-portrait but make it Twelve 🤍
This lovely idea is born from our Whouffaldi Homebrew discord server - in which discussions and creative emulsion are warming. I love you pookies 🤍✨
References bellow
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thetwit · 1 month ago
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Seaside cafe
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thetwit · 1 month ago
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This is probably one of the most detailed artworks I've ever done, my clover drawing obsession knows no bounds ☘️
(Also yes, there is a four leaf clover in there)
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thetwit · 1 month ago
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the path to the bus stop from my new place is healing me in ways I didn't think were possible
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thetwit · 1 month ago
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thetwit · 1 month ago
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thetwit · 1 month ago
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if the world was ending i'd wanna be next tp youuuu~
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