what if you wanted to play the stardew valley 1.6 update but god said you have to wait until it releases on the nintendo switch

dialing up the delusions but imagine Cody making a comment about Obi-Wan in tbb s3 (because he will be fucking in it or istg Dave) that is so undeniably GAY.

And I say this in full seriousness. Just let yourself imagine the possibility of getting at least one-sided codywan canon.

guys i love jun so much he's just so jun and i love him in every possible way and i want him so bad and i want to smooch his cheeks and brush his hair and boop his nose and fuck him violently and also wear matching cat rings with him and make dinner for him and go on a little picnic with him and take a nap with him and cuddle and smooch him again and

I don’t think people posting “I’m not going to cry about it” [the deaths of anyone] in regards to what’s happening in Palestine and Israel right now realize how fucking callous that is. Well, maybe you aren’t, but some people very much are, and the fact that you don’t hold any emotional, cultural, or familial connections to the victims of violence and can just shrug it off under broader ideologies is a sign of your incredible privilege and remove, not of sensitivity and solidarity

i have winter break next week and i wanna have fun

^•w•^/

whew haha

( a drabble for The Darling @vxctorx cause I've been thinking about Their reunion )

Cherried lips sundered as a hushed and breathless gulp escaped his throat. Had his eyes deceived him? Had the specters of his past finally come to haunt his waking hours.--No. This was real. He was real. Richard Mayhew had dreamed of this moment for years. Conjured up renditions of what he would say if he and his love of golden-years-past were ever to cross paths again. Would he tell Vic of all of the hurt he had bore since that fateful day at the train station?

'How dare he. I'll ne'er forgive him.' Richard thought to himself, tears stinging in his reddened eyes. The first night alone in his flat... What was to be Their flat... pricked the most. How naive, the Scotsman thought to himself. How naive it was to think that he and Vic would spend their first night exhausted, but discreetly reveling in the twilight of their new life, their freedom, entwined against the other's figure upon a newly baptized mattress that was all Theirs and Theirs alone. Instead, Richard found himself sitting against a wall, downing booze, in a desperate attempt to drown not just his sorrows, but whatever trace of foolish hope he may have harboured for Them. Their life. Their unwound future. Richard took another clumsy swig of his bottle, before scrubbing away another loose tear with the side of his knuckle. 'I hate him. I hate Victor Trevor.' Naive. Dumb. Foolish, boy.

Or, would Richard tell him about the quiet moments in-between the eventual, watered down hurt and the mundane. The silent longing so great he sometimes felt he couldn't breathe.

'I'll ne'er forget him. I ne'er could...' The ache burrowed deep into the cavern of his chest. He could feel it in his bones. A year had passed since that fateful day, but the Scotsman found himself thinking of Him now and again. That contemplation led to remembering. Remembering led to missing. It was in the cozy silence of his daily routine that the yearning was most ardent. It was when Richard took an insomnia-induced stroll, just at the crack of dawn, while the world slept on, that he caught sight of the first flares of light. The sun's golden tendrils reminding him of the aureate ruffle of His boyish curls. How he liked to teasingly tousle them in an act of fondness. It was when he would find himself idly toying with the ring Vic had given him for his birthday, which he had never taken off. Not once. In fact, whenever he was alone, the Scotsman occasionally found the gentle touch of his lips linger against the band's curve. Did Vic still wear the other half? Did his lips too press discreet caresses upon its golden bend? Or had he forgotten? Was the ring nothing more than a trifle, buried with the rest of Their memories?-- It was in these moments that grief's ghost lingered. Not the grief of day's past. Richard looked at those with a bittersweet fondness. No. It was the grief of what could have been. What they could have made. Richard missed Him and all that he was. All that They were.

"It's you...." he rasped, his voice fragile glass. Taking a bold step forward, Richard tilted his chin up at the other, as if about to expel some well-versed speech. A speech of heart. Of the longing. Of the loneliness. Instead, his weary arms could bare the weight of such a deepened severance no longer. What bitter resolve the Scotsman may have been harbouring after all these years finally melted away, revealing both his trembling ache of yearning and boyish adoration for the golden gentleman before him. Without another word, Richard wrapped his arms round Vic's mature figure, holding him close. The tips of his fingers crumpled against the back of the gentleman's shirt as a quiet tear or two rolled down his cheek. Richard Mayhew had dreamed of this moment for five years.--'Vic, I'm sorry.' 'I've ne'er been happier to see ye'.' 'I missed ye'. So, much.' Not a word was uttered. In fact, he didn't have to say a word. All he could do was hold Vic close. A silent promise to never let him go. Not now. Not ever. He never could.

not to be dramatic but what if I'm simply not meant to be happy

STUDIO GHIBLI MEN ARGHUGH9WGH9HUFQO

talking abt howl + jiro specifically like THEIR VOICES MAKE ME WEAK IN MY KNEES GIRL

Shout out to the folks at work the other day that enabled/encouraged me to go on a lil infodump about being transgender and who had genuine questions and listened to my answers. Obviously it's not something queer folks should be expected to do but I love being a point of information for people! I love talking about my experiences and my understandings of philosophies that intersect with that and I think alot of cishet people are maybe uncomfortable asking blunt questions? But so long as they're posed in good faith and with willingness to think about the response, I enjoy answering those weirdly specific things. How else to we dispel the willful ignorance that places of power want to foster towards us? I refuse to he a scapegoat and am deeply grateful to the people that are receptive to experiences outside their own

I feel like at least several times a month, I have a random insane revitalization of my love for The Smiths. Not that I ever stop loving them, but I'll listen to some song and then suddenly fall into this pit of just deep, intense love for their music again where I can't stop listening to their music on repeat and watching live performances and looking at pics like AAAAAHHHHHH WHY IS THEIR MUSIC SO GOOOD?????? WHY IS IT PERFECT?????? WHY WERE THEY SO GENDER???????

(songs I am feeling intense brainrot over rn in case you're curious: "I Want The One I Can't Have(live)", "Stretch Out and Wait(live)", "You Just Haven't Earned It Yet Baby", "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others(demo)", "What She Said", "The Boy With The Thorn in His Side(live)"(p.s. I Want The One I Can't Have is Martian-coded to me, pls listen)(also it reminds me of that movie I watched yesterday)

it’s 2:34 am and i am feeling ✨inadequate✨

hiii sorry if some posts go missing I promise I'm not deleting them just privating for a while. I have once again become self conscious. yippeeeeee

i really don't know why ppl follow me with some of the annoying shit i know i post like a few times a week it's all so dsajkfklsdjf

i guess saying "my mother has a repellant personality" is kind of misleading because she more has the personality of like. . . a mouse trap. she entices you by being really sweet and agreeable then she'll snap on you. it's literally why she has no friends, she always makes a friend and then in like 1-2 months they become an enemy because she ends up attacking them. there's probably a term for this