#i will never make a textpost like this again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twentytwoarts · 2 years

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golly gee i sure do love mighty the armadillo

#love for the mighty is stored in me #God bless mighty the armadillo #i will never make a textpost like this again #interact if you LOVE mighty the armadillo

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rat-presenting · 3 months

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Cis people with deadnames are either some of the chillest, coolest people you know or the guy from your old job who did coke with the teenagers on staff to align their chakras and says with a straight face nobody is worthy of his inner thoughts so he never shares them.

#I could write. a book on the shit that guy pulled before management fired him #I’m paraphrasing but you get it.#no hate if that’s your thing but I draw the line at making your coworkers listen to your weird religion just because you’re the director #it got to a point that we would start him on something just to gawk and make fun of him later in the staff rooms #like. “Jesus was a Buddha and also a dream warrior and all the ancient Egyptian gods were real and came to me in my dreams”#“now thrust to align your coochie energies”#I will never try thai chi or whatever that was again #textpost

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mossflower · 6 months

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hate it when a post gets notes

#oh you like healthy ships!! good for you!! so do i!! why r u putting that in the notes of the toxicship textpost though #the point of that post wasn’t that healthy ships are bad #i think i was just getting tired of seeing people be like. oh this ship is so healthy!! like you’re shipping it bc of that?? forreal??#i don’t want to call it heartstopperesque bc i actually like heartstopper. but you get where i’m going with it right #like btw if you do this? if you like ships bc they’re healthy?? fucking awesome! i dont get it but you have fun!!#at the end of the day we are all playing dollies with fictional characters. play dollies however you want my friend #side note i am never making a post about shipping again. you people are all so annoying. godbless (affectionate) (self-aware)

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solradguy · 1 year

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Spending a lot of time and money to make a custom bright red leather jacket just to be the specialist man in the bakery section of the grocery store was such a great investment. I love my red jacket. Everyone should make their own special jacket

#textpost #I love my black jacket with the jackalope and terminator skull and cyborg demon skull on it too #But the red one has a thermal liner and the pockets are more comfortable #Even though it's the same exact size as the black one it's like very very slightly shorter??#Which is fine until I need to zip it up and then it looks kinda dumb #But honestly I never zip these things up anyway because they also have laced sides and #well. with all my belts stuff too.. then with the jacket zipped up it's kinda like #Who's this guy with the very fitted slightly too short screaming bright red jacket with the slutty laced up sides #Doing here at the vaguely Christian family lunch and breakfast restaurant #See the problem is that I love being a bit of a special snowflake and I'm tall enough and look angry by default enough that #I can get away with looking a lil saucy and out of place all of the time. What're they gonna do? Get made at me about it lol #I've never had anyone get angry with me about how I dress/look in public which I appreciate a lot #But I get a lot of stares. That used to bother me but I don't notice now and it's funny going out sometimes with my #super self aware/shy sister because she's like 'everyone is staring at me/us :(' and I'm like 'what. who?'#I dyed my mohawk purple the other day btw and this new leave-in conditioner is great #My hair's like idk 8 inches? on top now and the conditioner is almost enough to make it stay up on its own again #Sorry this got long I'm exceptionally sleep deprived and stoned #Instead of Jack-O' posting I'm jacket posting tonight hah!#The shade of red I used for my jacket was fire red btw lol #I wanna put more spikes on it

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synapticconstruction · 11 months

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Apollo being Will’s assigned fursona is funny but like,. I think knowing the context later on when Will notes that outside of swimming, she had a passion for art, although a side hobby of hers, she nevertheless would draw what her and Will’s interests and have her own characters. It kills me knowing how although it dwindled among sharing her art, this game is what’s left and like although you have NO CLUE as to why this Let’s Play is happening you have to sit and just think about the GRIP these text boxes have on Will It’s

#APOLLOS LOVE THEY’RE LOVE ITSELF THEY’RE AN EMBODIMENT OF THEIR SHARED PASSIONS ENDURING THROUGH ALL *SCREAMS*#diminish #*gritting teeth*#I’m pulling my hair trying to word my feelings but tumblrs textposts are my canvas and I’m throwing the bucket of paint full force #with the bucket #screaming and crying throwing up pacing back and forth #very normal abt them #I think I should start being open abt this webseries it has been taunting me to make stuff again #I think I also want to wave Teddy and Will around infront of ppl like I’m sorry I never was the same after I originally watched this #BUT KNOWING SHE WOULD DRAW STUFF FOR HIM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 PLEASEEEEE DONT DO THAT TO MEEEEE

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sleepyyghostt · 11 months

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whats it called when music you cant fucking stand is playing and you get some tingly spidey senses going off type shit on the back of ur neck that makes u wanna rip ur skin off. google is just trying to tell me i have multiple sclerosis

#textpost tag #im so sorry rap music i respect you as an art form but God i never want to hear most of you again. especially not at work all day #well its a specific type of rap i guess. a paricular sound to it that makes me wanna bash my head in.#but there is plenty that doesnt sound like that that i do actually like a lot/dont mind

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hoonclub · 2 years

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cant decide what to gif . omg

#a/#sorry again everytime im in the mood to talk i make like 10 textposts in one go and you’ll never see me again for 2 weeks

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estrelladeishtar · 1 month

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What if I just started posting my insane ass ramblings about Ishtar & Zion like I’ve been doing in server(s) just outta the blue

#tbh i. half expect they won’t really be read by ppl—also how the hell would I even like.#format those posts… would I just repost my screenshot ramblings or like.#actually retype or. hm.#also again—how would i even format those oc posts…#obviously each would need a read more bc i have an OBSCENE amount of things I can say…#but its also like. how do i even ease ppl into this.#do i just show up suddenly on the tl & go ‘fuck it. oc posting you suffer w me’ & then suddenly like…#drop an oc ramble/textpost outta the blue? or like. what.#…i admit i mostly feel like doing this bc i. never get asks or anything abt my ocs. unless if i sign up for it directly by someone but #i mean like wanting asks w/o… well just out of like actual interest ig. i wanna talk abt ocs but i always feel like im just.#supposed to wait until someone explicitly starts w asks abt em for me to post abt em &… since asks aren’t a thing i get well…#then it never happens &. pain. so i just figure if ppl wont ask then just post myself but also. fear.#…anyway im rambling wcdhdhfh #just. tl;dr idk if ppl would wanna see me post my oc ramblings. & also how to format posts for that if i make em.#& many other things.

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f1nalboys · 30 days

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Takin' It - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x GN!AFAB!Reader

wrote this based off this one singular textpost i made when i was also high. enjoy

WORD COUNT: 695

WARNINGS: nsfw, pegging, bottom!bo, top!reader, reader uses a strap but does refer to it as a cock at one point, doggy style, making bo beg, face down ass up, degradation sorta, reader ended up way meaner than originally planned so enjoy that, vauge hints at bo being a dickhead outside of sex, like a vauge primal urge to fuck bo, both reader and bo are called a bitch, bo calls reader sweetheart/baby/bitch lol, proofread but im currently high and wrote this in an hour so.... take with that what you will <3

“F-fuck you!”

It never failed to make you laugh at just how often Bo ran his mouth. Whether it was in the morning when he decided the breakfast you cooked was too cold, or the afternoon when you had dropped the flashlight you were holding for him in the sweltering garage and he had berated you for an hour, or earlier in the night when he had made some snide comment. Or, like right now, when he was bent over the bed with the blankets gripped tight in his fingers and his face squished into the mattress. His mouth just never seemed to stop running.

“Shut the fuck up, wouldja?” You grunt, hips snapping forwards harshly, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room followed by a sharp hiss from Bo, though it was slightly muffled, just like everything else he said. “How’s it feel, Bo, huh? I can feel you shaking under me.”

For once, Bo doesn’t answer you. You can just barely make out the stitched brow, the open mouth, the few tears that had slipped down his cheek mixing with the sheen of sweat that covered him in the darkness of the room. Your hand, which had been holding onto his hips for the last thirty minutes, dig into the plump flesh, eliciting another hiss and you can’t help but grin down at him when you feel the resistance as you push back inside him.

“Aw, look at that, fuck. You love it, don’t you? Feeling my cock inside you like this, making you take it,” you grunt, your thrusts speeding up, getting harder. Briefly, you wonder if this is why Bo acted the way he did; being on top and feeling, seeing, smelling every change in your body and being overcome with an urge so interwoven with your body that you act without thinking? Wanting to get more from you and knowing you could give it if he just did it a bit harder, a bit faster, for a bit longer? “You better tell me or I’ll stop.”

Bo makes a choked noise, a sob, and you moan under your breath, sweat rolling down the back of your neck. “Fuckin’ bitch!” Bo spits and you start to pull out, both hands resting on his hips to push him off of you, only another inch or two of the silicon left inside of him, and his hand reaches behind him to blindly grab at your hip. “D-Don’t! Dontchu fuckin’ dare!”

“You better get to begging then, bitch.” You say, leaning over and grabbing him by the hair like he has done to you time and time again, yanking him up. The toy is forced back inside him, deeper than it’s ever been, and you can feel the vibrations of a moan as your other hand rests against his throat. His head, being held back in the angle it was, reveals to you the perfect view of his fucked out face.

Tanned and lightly freckled skin, weathered from days outside, covered in sweat and a redness that went from his nose to the tips of his ears. His eyes are half-lidded, eyes rolling into the back of his head every few seconds. You laugh at the drool that had collected in the corner of his mouth. A tug on the brown locks threaded between your fingers brings him back to the surface just enough to break his resolve.

“Fuckin’ shit! M’sorry, baby, keep going, alright? I do love it, shit, I do, Y/N! God, j-just like that, sweetheart, don’t you stop, alright? Christ, when’d you get this fucking strong, huh?” He asks, accent so much thicker when he’s not thinking about it. A brief squeeze on his throat and now that shit-eating grin is back on his face and he’s rocking his hips back, fucking himself on the toy as you catch your breath behind him. “You like given’ it to me, darlin’?”

You grin, leaning in and nipping at his neck. “I get the appeal.” You whisper, jerking your hips forwards and taking back over for him. “Now hurry the fuck up and cum or you don’t get to tonight.”

#f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works #house of wax #bo sinclair #slashers #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher #slasher x y/n #HOW 2005

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cloverjelly · 3 months

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drawing life series members based on the songs in my playlist [7] - jimmy/its called: freefall by rainbow kitten surprise

why this song: "some days end when i need a few friends / now and again, i could never hope to keep them" (always fucking DYING before his alliances fall apart) and "scratch, kick, let gravity win like / fuck this, let gravity win like" (being emo and self deprecating bc "who cares im gonna die first anyways", kinda canon divergent but wtv it makes the best stories)

(a/n: peep the feathers and read my textpost about how jimmy is after secret life. spoiler hes not doing that good)

#jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #canary curse #life smp #traffic smp

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calumhoodgoss · 8 days

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horror story of a teenage 5sos blogger

let me set the scene - its the mid 2010s, I'm 17, in the height of my 5sos fan career, im watching keek compilations all day and scrolling tumblr all night. Life is good.

Fast forward a few months and I start talking to this cute boy at school. we start going on dates, having first kisses - and first everything elses. we're falling madly in love. it's intense (and so cringy to look back at as an adult) but again, life is good! not a worry in the world!!

eventually.. it somehow comes up that my boyfriend and i both have tumblrs (of VERY different nature's mind you). we wanted to show eachother things we'd found online but we were both adamant we didn't want to see eachothers blogs (FOR OBVIOUS REASONS). instead of following each other, we would send each other screenshots of funny textposts, pictures, etc. - blacking out our respective blog names and url's to protect our online anonymity. life is good!

now by day, I'm spending all hours messaging my totally hot boyfriend but by night... by night, I'm reblogging hot gifs of calum hood, smut fanfics, imagines, general gifs of hot couples making out (ifykyk). it's the HEIGHT of tumblr fanfiction and imagine culture and I could not get enough. i was exploring things in real life with my boyfriend while also exploring online through fics. reblogging every single thing along the way. i was having my cake and eating it too and it was a fucking good time to be alive. life is so good!

of course, like any normal person, I was using my tags as a stream of consciousness. a way to get out my feelings about cal, about my boyfriend, about being a teenager, about LITERALLY EVERYTHING. Unfiltered, hormonal, teenage girl writing about the boys she likes. every. damn. night. life! is! good!

until.. all until.. my boyfriend and i were lying together in a park, under a tree, light filtering down on us as we talk and laugh and kiss - a perfect afternoon UNTIL he says there's something he has to tell me. 'what does *name of my blog* mean?'

TURNS OUT, the very first time I sent him a screenshot of something, I didn't black out my url properly and he had been SECRETLY STALKING MY BLOG FOR MONTHHHSSSS.

MONTHS

MONTHS!!!!!!

Literally just months worth of calum hood smut, so.much.smut, smut requests too!!!, soft porn gifs WITH TAGS LITERALLY EXPLICITLY ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND, countless text posts about our dates and whatever the fuck I was thinking or feeling that day, 5sos drama, EVERYTHING. EVERYTHINGGGGG. ABSOLUTELY EV ER Y THIN G

needless to say that blog was immediately scorched from the surface of the earth. and since then, I virtually haven't been on 5sos tumblr - until now. I was so mortified that I wasn't just throwing my thoughts into the void, I was literally scarred.

we're still together though lol I guess he some how liked me enough to look past the 5sos blog HAHA. he's a much stronger person than I because if the roles were reversed and he had some obsessed teenage fan blog, I think i would have gotten the ick straight away. Especially since I literally NEVER talked about 5sos with him because I was soooo embarrassed that I was obsessed with them (this was album one era guys HAHA and my boyfriend was way cooler than me in highschool). now I don't care, I play them in the shower all the time - he can deal with it hahaha

moral of the story is, idk don't tell your teenage boyfriend you have tumblr cause he will find your blog

#he showed me his blog to make me feel better #it wasnt even embarrassing #he would post his film photos on there #and some of them did really well #this was 10 years ago #before film really started having its hay day again in the main streem #he was way cooler than me #i just reblogged stories about calum hoods dick 😭#5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #ashton irwin #***almost 10 years ago

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innitmarvellous · 21 days

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Part 2 of my ace contemplations - Part 1 can be found here - or more like: more whining, haha. Sorry.

First off something more general: I'm happy about the responses I got on the original post, but I think it's a bit sad that there isn't a hashtag or something for people who want and need the support of the aspec community here on Tumblr (without having to join a special forum or sth). Because it seems that while the community is quite active, it's mostly for sharing memes and snappy textposts and stuff, and less about more helpful things and discussions. I'm not saying the memes etc are wrong and shouldn't be a part of it too, but idk, I just wish there would be more of an actual community bond, if that makes sense? To help the people who aren't yet at the stage where they can view their identity as something great, people who are still struggling and are reliant on online communities for that kind of help.

Because for all the talk about the very active Tumblr aspec community...I personally haven't seen and benefitted much of it, apart from the memes etc. And I hope I'm not the only person who don't just want to agree with meme posts and would wish for more. Or am I just unfortunate? Looking in the wrong places? (In short, where are the nice supportive ace people of Tumblr? I'm desperate here...well, kind of.)

---

Something related to the books I mentioned in the original post:

these books are all written from such an US-centric, university-educated and creative business viewpoint. And that's just not my world at all, as an mostly unemployed European with crappy education.

Like, one time it was mentioned that aces always look out for each other and how great that is. And yeah, sure. It is. It would be great, but what about the people who aren't part of that lucky network or community? People who possibly haven't met another aspec person in real life? They are missing that kind of support, and maybe it would be the one thing that would make everything easier.

---

Another thing: I found the probably supposed to be inspirational stories from other aces in the books rather disheartening. Yeah, fine, so person XY found their perfect partner by luck, despite whatever made them think it would never work out, yadda yadda. Good for them, but that's not gonna happen to me, right? I'm not gonna strike that jackpot and will find someone who accepts me as I am. Maybe I'm just a really, really spiteful person, but stories like that don't inspire me or show me what's possible for me personally in any way.

---

Well, yeah, I never encountered that. Like, truly never. That's one thing where I'm very ace: I don't get what's supposed to be sexy about a (mostly) naked body. I understand a appeal of a open top button and bit of chest being visible or something like that (lol that sounded so stupid), but the body being in full view? Nah man, put on your shirt again before you catch a cold, lol. (And it's not just guys actually, but people of all genders, if I'm honest.) I should probably add that I absolutely don't mind seeing anything like that, it just doesn't do anything for me.

---

I guess my takeaway from all the reading I did isn't like for other people who don't feel wrong or broken anymore when they find out there are other aces out there. Even after knowing a lot about it I still feel like some crucial part of me is missing, and I could be more than what I am if that were possible. But then again, there isn't really a possibility for change, so I need to do my best to accept this. I just wish I had it easy one single time...why is basically everything about me so hard to accept? lol

Idk, but if I ever manage to convince myself that inevitably dying alone one day (and spending the time until then alone too) is a good thing, then I'm sure I'll be able to do anything. Now I only need to figure out how to convince myself and that's where it gets difficult, lol.

Being both aspec and too dumb/awkward to make friends is such a curse tbh 😓 And I can't even become a crazy cat lady because I'm bad with animals too, ugh...

---

In connection with the previous bit, I'm kinda envious of that way of thinking. Would make things much easier, I assume. And it's great if it worked for her, but I on the contrary would find it quite painful if I look back at my in a sense similar life.

---

And to counter all the hopelessness a little bit - we're supposed to do that kind of thing, I guess - I tried my best to come up with some positive points, although I take them with a grain of salt myself.

- Well, it does give me an explanation for whatever is going on with me. (Although I only need that explanation for myself, since I seem to give off so much sad loser energy that no one ever bothered to ask me whether I want a boyfriend or kids. They just look at me and think "nah, that's obviously impossible for her". Which is oddly funny yet a little bit hurtful... ^^')

- I'm kind of glad that I never actually have to hug people or cuddle with them since I hate physical contact so much, lol. Doesn't matter if it's platonic or not. Remember when everyone missed being hugged during the pandemic? Couldn't be me :D

- I guess someone who is a rather bad person with way too many negative traits like me shouldn't be on the dating market anyway, so it's a plus that I'm no relationship material. Although that's more of a plus for others, not so much for me, lol. But it is a plus in the sense that everyone I would fall in love with would be unattainable for me anyway, so it's good not to be tempted in the first place.

- Idk, that's about it, I think? Maybe I forgot something, but I believe that's the gist of it. Kind of sad, but I tried, haha.

#aspec #aroace #acespec #arospec #asexuality #aromanticism #asexual #lgbtqia #queer #i sure hope this will be the last part but i guarantee for nothing

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gabessquishytum · 1 year

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I was thinking of turning this into something longer but I actually think it works nicely a little vignette. So I’m posting it here instead of ao3 bc you all deserve it for blowing up that emo worm dream textpost xox

——————

Word count: 1364

Warnings: Angst, references to death of family members including children, references to pregnancy

Ship: Dream/Hob

Because Dreaming Costs Money

There’s nothing like a good old fashioned cry to sort you out and leave you feeling refreshed. Hob has been a firm believer in the power of tears for a good few centuries now. Crying might not fix your problems, but it certainly doesn’t do any harm.

He feels sick with the weight of it, the need to weep. It’s in his stomach, squeezing at him so hard that his abdominals are clenching and he wonders if he’s about to dry heave. He covers his mouth with his hand just in case, feeling his lips tremble. He breathes through his nose, like you’re supposed to. He’s doing everything right. But he can’t be too loud, because his office door isn’t all that thick really, and he doesn’t want anyone to hear him.

He’s sitting on the floor, behind the desk — almost under the desk, actually. If he makes himself very small and very quiet, no one will know that he’s there. He’s breathing through his nose, but every other moment he sobs with his whole chest, and it comes out in an ugly sound through his dry lips.

He’s forgotten her name.

He can remember a few things. The scent of fresh rushes on the floor. Woodsmoke, too. Her hair, the same chestnut brown as his own. Her strong arms laden with bundles of sheep’s wool.

Not her face. That’s long gone, and he’s accepted it as another curve in the passage of time. But her name. He can’t remember his own mother’s name!

He’s never even bothered to write it down, because he could never have imagined needing to. He curses himself, gripping a handful of his own hair, consumed by the urge to scream. What kind of son must he be to lose the memory of his own mother? When was the last time he even thought of her?

The tears are streaming down his face now, and he’s forgotten his intention to be quiet. He wants his Ma, he realises through the haze of grief. He wants her now more than he has in 600 years. Only now, when she is so far gone from him. His fist collides with the wood of the desk and he barely feels the sting, so he does it again and this time his knuckle splits open.

“Stop.” Someone says. There’s only one person, or person shaped thing, who could possibly get through the locked door of Hob’s office. Hob looks up through his blurry eyes and finds Dream just stepping into his line of sight, framed by the sun from the window. Hob makes a strange little whimpering noise and drags the sleeve of his jacket over his face. He doesn’t want Dream to see him like this, so messy and far away from the well-adjusted person he’s cultivated himself into over the last few centuries.

Dream kneels down on the carpet and crawls under the desk beside him. It’s the last thing Hob could have expected, and it tips him into a fresh wave of tears. Dream seizes his hand gently, the one with the bloody knuckles. He cradles it like an injured bird and kisses the cracked and broken skin with the barest brush of lips. He doesn’t tell Hob not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, until Hob is hauling breaths into his lungs and his tears have run out, at least for a little while.

“Sorry.” Hob says thickly. His lips feel numb, in fact his entire body feels as though it doesn’t really belong to him anymore. His back should ache from crouching under the desk, but physical sensations feel very far away just then. The only thing he can really feel is Dream grasping onto his hand.

“Don’t apologise.” Dream says. He shuffles on his bum a couple of inches across the crusty old carpet and puts his hands on Hob’s shoulders. It’s a grounding touch — Dream’s hands always have such a weight and an intention to them. He never does anything by accident.

Hob sniffles. “Just had a really bad day.” He says. “Everything’s sort of overwhelming. Kind of just wish the whole world would go away for a minute, y’know?”

Dream nods. “I understand. There have been many days in which I have wished similarly.” He moves his hand from Hob’s shoulder to the side of his face, thumbing away a spot of wetness and resting his palm on his cheek. Hob hears his own breath shudder through his lungs.

“I really miss her.” He says, almost angrily. “I do.” He isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. Himself, probably. “Forgetting someone… doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t. It makes you old. Human. That’s all. You are an extraordinary person, and anyone who has ever loved you would certainly be proud of you.” Dream says, somehow knowing exactly what Hob needs to hear in that particular moment.

Hob sniffs and wipes his face again on his sleeve. He really, really misses the days when everyone carried a handkerchief. He'd do anything for even a kleenex right now. Dream gives him an encouraging little nod.

"I was talking to one of my students today, I knew she'd been having a rough couple of weeks. She came in during my office hours and she told me that she found out last month that she's pregnant. Didn't know what to do or who to tell. Obviously I was a bit useless. Gave her a hug and told her to see a doctor, the usual stuff. I told her she should tell someone other than me. She said she was scared to tell her mum. She didn't want to disappoint anyone. I tried to remind her that no matter how bad we are at showing it, good parents always want their kids to be safe."

"You're right." Dream says softly. He hugs his bony knees up to his chest. "I know that you did the very best for your son."

"So did you. In your own way, in the way you thought best." Hob sniffles, nudging his leg up against Dream’s. "The whole conversation, I was thinking about Robyn. And then… I started thinking about my mother." A fresh wave of tears threatens to spill over and he has to haul up a lungful of breath.

“She was just a really… a really lovely person. Somehow she handled 7 kids, and all of them fucking died when they were babies, apart from me. And she worked every day of her life until the stupid fucking plague took her away.” The urge to punch something is there again, mitigated only by the fact that his hand hurts now, and he's pretty sure Dream would disapprove. He sighs and rubs at his still streaming eyes. "Like I said. I do miss her. She's a part of me, isn't she? It's not that I didn't expect her to die, it's just that I didn't expect to forget her."

"You have not forgotten her. Not her essence." Dream says. "She lives on in you. You remember the things that matter to you."

"But not her name." Hob whispers. "If I'm here, surely part of the point is to remember stuff?"

"The point is whatever you want it to be." Dream says. Coming from anyone else, such words would be meaningless and trite, but Hob really knows that Dream means it. He’d make a good therapist if he could only get past his crippling inability to express himself.

“Sometimes.” Hob says, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. “Sometimes, I think everyone just needs their Ma, even if it’s just for a moment. And there’s few things more painful than knowing that she’s gone.”

“You’re right.” Dream pulls at Hob’s arms, pulls him forward until he’s sprawled on top of Dream in a mess of awkward limbs. “Listen. I remember her name, Hob. And I’ll keep on remembering it for you, long into the future. As long as there are dreams and nightmares and stories.”

Hob hugs him tight, grabbing at the fabric of the familiar and well-loved coat. “Keep her safe for me.” He says, pressing his forehead to Dream’s.

#dreamling #dream x hob #the sandman #the sandman netflix #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #long post

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moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom · 1 year

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time for Thoughts™️

I will always rant about every member of the disaster lineage but I just got very very especially sad about Dooku and Qui-Gon.

how did I not realise how late he left the Order??? I always thought it was idk, some time earlier than the Phantom Menace but this is just. they really went for the peak angst potential didn’t they

we now know what happened to Yaddle, but at what cost…

As always, fuck Sheev. look what he did. he took a bunch of perfectly good light-siders and fucked them up is what he did.

SNIPS AND SKYGUY ARE BACK Y’ALL IM SOBBING I MISSED THEM SO MUCH

I feel like Anakin really does Not know how to Handle Child at the time of that first training montage. he does his best to be a good teacher and train her the best he can but I definitely got scary chills watching him say “again” so many times in a progressively darker tone

I’m fine I’m just crying over how all that training, no matter Anakin’s downfalls, saved Ahsoka’s life in the end

Rex!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

my first reaction to Rex mentioning Jesse was basically just “oh hey it’s my dude!!!” and then I realised that Anakin and Jesse both trained Ahsoka in ways that she then used to survive their attempts of trying to kill her and now I’m not okay

that handful of Obi-Wan scenes was a nice bonus

Caleb getting all excited about Ahsoka doing the droid training exercise he’s so precious-

The funeral.

no because the fact that Ahsoka would have been chased down and possibly killed by the Empire if they found out she was still alive but she went to Padmé’s funeral anyway to pay her respects because Padmé was so important to her-

“She was my friend” feelings. so many feelings. i cried here.

Rex sticking with Ahsoka until after the funeral makes me have a lot of emotions and a lot of thoughts; iirc we don’t actually know how long they were together after the Tribunal crash before they split ways

SO LUCASFILM IF YOU COULD JUST NOT TEAR MY HEART OUT FOR ONE KRIFFING SECOND THAT WOULD BE GREAT

*insert that one textpost that was like [me every second Bail Organa was on screen] ‘that’s Bail Organa’*

anyone else feel a little iffy about the whole “we have a duty thing” he was saying to Ahsoka? maybe I just wasn’t paying enough attention, but it felt a little to me like he meant she had to/was obligated to join the Rebellion. it doesn’t seem very in sync with Bail in general, but if someone has a different interpretation that makes more sense, please share with me.

the only other thing is I’m just confused and a little irritated about the section with the farmers and the Inquisitor. like, when in the timeline exactly did that whole encounter take place? and if they wanted to show a storyline like that, why didn’t they just animate some key moments from the Ahsoka novel? I feel like it sort of gives it more weight in a way to have Ahsoka’s big return to the good fight and the Rebellion set two years after the end of the war, and given how similar the setups are, I have to say I would have much rather had at least some scenes from the book in animation than a whole new separate thing that kind of replaces it.

me when the girl’s brother went to tattle to the Empire: every town’s got a Timm 😔

ngl I really thought she might be Kaeden at first but it wasn’t too bad I suppose.

especially since I will never, and I mean never, get sick of watching Ahsoka kick Inquisitor ass

all I want to do is wrap all my faves up in a blanket and hug them very tight yk

in conclusion: I am just screaming. so hard right now.

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just-antithings · 10 months

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zelda twitter is on their monthly "zelda is minor! proshitters!" bs attacking and bullying anyone making a sexual joke or who ships zelda/urbosa or something and I normally wouldn't care anymore, but what's annoying about it this time is that I saw a lot of them remove "proship DNI" from their bios after japanese artists started blocking people with it, and some even reblog from japanese artists who make lewd art of her. The hypocrisy never ends... this close to just never interacting with anyone in the fandom again because they always turn out to be a massive hypocrite about shipping and fiction. It's always just about their personal tastes and getting likes from their clique, nothing else. God I miss 2010 fandom.

“Proshippers dni! Wait no not like that…”

I’ve never been more relieved that Zelda is one of those fandoms where none of the textposts interest me and I can just enjoy the art ahaaaa

#mod jay #just anti things

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mahuhumaling · 9 months

Text

post velum;

textpost edition. a freeform poem about the journey of patpran.

🔗 — [visual edition.] [insp.] [x]

PRELUDE.

PROLOGUE

Let me not tell you a story about two households both alike in dignity, in fair Bangkok, where we lay our scene. And instead: about two boys, their hundred stop-it's, but-what-if's, and what-the-fuck-does-this-mean's; simultaneously flown and grounded by the passage of time.

And maybe a little bit of Fate.

THE ENGINEER

Picture fierce eyes, dark swept hair, and a natural affinity for people. He walks with such swagger and charm that makes you both remember and forget he's been Head of the Class for years. But don't let that fool you: despite always being sleeveless, he wears his heart on it.

THE ARCHITECT

A walking amalgamation of a question mark and an exclamation point, he is sarcasm embedded in a smirk that extends to deep dimples for most, a sketch book with a puzzle lock for some, and a thousand meters of ocean depth for him alone.

ACT I.

SCENE ONE

The plain black watch tells us we're doomed from the start. But shh. Do you hear that?

It rings to signal a start — to start it is, again, is to love and grieve at the same time, what we equally had and never could. What we really were and never allowed to be.

SCENE TWO

The universal truth is that the sky is blue. But I can also tell you without uncertainty that the day you stormed out with sunken eyes and parted lips with my father's words, that day, the sky was red.

SCENE THREE

Is it worth cutting yourself open over guitar strings? A stolen third wonton? How about a half-assed paper airplane? An imaginary corpse flower? The black instrument case or the makeshift pavillion sign? Or is it the million little things in between them all?

SCENE FOUR

The nightlight's smile looks like a teasing grin now, unsympathetic to the unwashed gray shirt, the shared blue sheets, and the space and warmth in between.

At least it's not bright enough to reveal tears pleading to fall.

ACT II.

SCENE FIVE

What are we? I search for it in the crevices of your mouth. What are we? In the years of distance between our flushed necks. What are we? In the cold rooftop railing full of want.

I can feel it start to rain. It's not the reason you walked away.

SCENE SIX

The only thing the salty water and air can heal is us.

SCENE SEVEN

I lost. I have been losing from the start. Have me.

SCENE EIGHT

It's in the third beer that the weighted truth sinks in. Everything else fades, including the mundane lies. The bang of the xylophone sticks don't quite strike like the drum, but it hits like it's stripping us off of untruths.

Red dropping.

ACT III.

SCENE NINE

Facing the music has never been this loud. An untouched football, a graze across the stomach, a few ragged breaths, and fingerprints obscuring a hidden venom.

Red dripping.

It can't get worse than this, right?

SCENE TEN

Guess not.

SCENE ELEVEN

The only thing the salty water and air can heal is us.

SCENE TWELVE

The strings of our tin cans were shrouded by a strong, lingering mist of guilt and misery, too many decades old to be pulled apart, so it stays. We also do. But it never rusts. We clean them regularly.

POSTSCRIPT.

EPILOGUE

We were doomed from the start. But shh. Just like writing plays, like writing songs, there are revisions. After all, this is our story, our song. We get to dictate who are part of it. We get to compose how the Coda sounds like.

Fate is not as cruel as we think she is.

INTERMISSION.

the Our Skyy 2 crossover.

SCENE 11.1

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the stupidest one of all? Is it you who insists on cramming every inch of yourself into the spaces I consume, or is it me who pushes you not to?

Because what happens if I get accustomed to it? What if I become so familiar with your fingertips on my arm that I caress the ghost of it when I eventually leave for two years? Even for a while, would the single bed and the sole toothbrush terrorize me awake?

Give me an apple. I'm getting on the bus to leave this doubt behind and seek answers.

In the throes of teasing, of pushing and pulling, Fate's shadows skirt around the edges of another story, waiting for you to collide.

THE FOREST RANGER

You see yourself in him, with the way he closes his arms and his heart. He is years ahead of you, but you can feel it: he is just as scared as you are, except his fear has worn down and dulled. When he says nothing, you go to sleep understanding the faraway look in his eye. It must be a fissure.

Afraid that someone will go in; begging for someone to go in.

(You're also pretty sure that not even Snow White got lost in the woods as long as this, not with a silent Huntsman by her side.)

THE TEACHER

He is also engineer — he is also impulsive and brash with the way he sways to and fro along the road that leads to the cliff. He has the same reckless abandon as you when it comes to loving people with the way he demands to find the student while sporting a high fever. You try to blame it on the surgery scars on his chest or his reputable last name, but you learn that that's always been him, just reformed.

You also learn he's been deaing with guilt.

time for the curtain call.

SCENE 11.2

I don't really think about the fact that my laughter only echoes the loudest when I'm sure they can be muffled by the wild thrash of the waterfall, or that you can fully bury your face in my nape under the comfort of mesh curtains. I don't really think about how I surrender myself to loving you in the most open of spaces — the sea and the mountain.

I don't think about it. Instead, at night, I long to climb up the cliff and just count to a thousand. How did the Teacher put it? 956, 957, 958...

Damn it. I can't finish it either.

SCENE 11.3

It's 10:10 when you first return it to me with kid wonder and the water washed out. It's 10:10 when I take it out the box the second I meet you again with a kick to the chest. It's 9:31 when I decide to start wearing it, 9:04 when I see you at the rooftop, 9:17 when you clutch it close with a confession lodged in your throat thinking you'd lost me, and 9:39 when I reassure you with bandaid words that you hadn't.

It's always been nine or ten PM. It's always been this deep into the night when I can look you in the eye and ask, "So?" with a teasing lilt, but secretly plead for you to admit that you feel as deeply as I do, that you're dancing in the same thread of forever as I am.

You whisper yes, and a whole lot more.

SCENE 11.4

For once, the red doesn't drop. It stays high, high up, high enough that everyone can see. But everyone is cheering. And even if both of us are donned in costumes, I kmow the love we are putting under the spotlight is just as unapologetic and carefully mended and queer as our own. They are cheering for us too.

And since I know you want to be seen, I remove the glass coffin and let you pull me in.

END.

#bad buddy #bad buddy series #bbs #patpran #bbs writing #bad buddy writing #our skyy x bad buddy #our skyy 2 #our skyy x bad buddy x 1000 stars #our skyy x 1000 stars x bad buddy #our skyy #our skyy series #saturn

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