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#nice and warm
papaya99999 · 2 months
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Something nice, like a Paul Baking Bread
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prettyboy-remi · 16 days
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Not beating the pretty boy allegations
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caleblandrybones · 1 month
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ok I had some yummy veggie lasagna
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yorkshire-rockchick · 2 months
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Curled up under my duvet, with no intention of moving
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euesworld · 2 years
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"Oooh girl, you hug so softly and you kiss so nice.. I would be obliged if you would be my wife!!"
After hugging you and meshing lips.. I am so fuggin whipped - eUë
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lifeofserenity · 2 years
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I got cat paw sleeves (with thumb holes) for my polyarthitus (temp affects mine.)
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twilight-zoned-out · 6 months
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Learning about the Doctor Who specials' expanded budget: oh no, what if they overuse CGI to look more 'professional' and high-budget?
The first scene of the Doctor Who Special:
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witchstone · 6 months
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oh to be a pretty little ginger cat snoozing in the dappled shade of the wild mango tree
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verawhisk · 1 month
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You are safe. The winds of fate blow you to the warmest of hearths in the most cordial of inns. The touch of the sun comforts your flesh, but never burns it.
my commissions are closed, but you can still look at my prices here!
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noirandchocolate · 16 days
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Several weeks ago one of my coworkers called me over into her cubicle and gave me a very unexpected gift. Her mother passed away recently, and she'd been packing stuff up at her condo to give to relatives and sell, so the home could be sold. The mother was an avid knitter and crocheter, and when my coworker came upon her stash of equipment, she told me, she "immediately thought of me as someone who might get some use out of it."
So, I have inherited a varied collection of knitting needles and crochet hooks, cable needles, sewing needles, and, best of all, now-out-of-print pattern books, mostly for blankets, because that was what this lady loved to make most. Plus, I also have a bunch of gauge swatches she made, pinned to little bits of card covered in perfect schoolteacher handwriting setting out the patterns they were made to test.
And also...
My coworker brought another bag, full of yarn and...knitted blanket squares. Her mother's last started project, before she got too sick to continue. And she asked if there was anything I could do with it.
It turned out, there are twelve completed squares, and I quickly located the pattern book they are from amid those given to me. It's a book of 60 patterns, meant to be put together however the maker wishes into blankets of 20 squares. I figured out which of the numbered patterns were already made, and selected eight more that I thought might go well with them.
So now! I am working on completing! My coworker's mother's last knitting project!
And I really am feeling very good about doing it.
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anglerflsh · 11 months
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a homing of pigeons
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springbon-t-art · 28 days
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“ …How can that be?…”
❤️🏠💛🎄💙✨🩵
I loved that storybook, it brings a tear to my eye every time I listen to it.
ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Happy Homewarming! ₊✩‧₊˚౨
❤️🏠💛🎄💙✨🩵
PLEASE DO NOT REPOST
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inkskinned · 4 months
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yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."
i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.
the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.
mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.
later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.
sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.
but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.
i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.
every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.
wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?
the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:
he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.
every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.
mahler's fifth still makes me sick.
give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.
give me back what you took from me.
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amerasdreams · 1 year
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Yogurt and potato ♡♡♡ stomach feels better :)
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computrangel99 · 1 year
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also here's da fit for today
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