The cosmic giggle:

I thought I knew what love was, I’ve written about heartbreak often, having been on both the giving and receiving end of it, I thought I was an expert, but heartbreak as it turns out is a lot more nuanced than I could have imagined, the first time around I knew I broke someone’s heart I was young and dumb and I just truly had no idea what I was doing, however the second time what I didn’t know is that I broke my own heart in the process too, because heartbreak demands grief, it requires it in order to heal, and I thought I had outsmarted my own heart, logically explaining away pain that needed to be felt, now I’ve been down this road many times but I wonder if all of it was for nothing, because I’ve left pieces of me imprinted in others DNA, so it feels as if parts of me that I wish I could take back are roaming the earth aimlessly, and I as a result feel incomplete, I tried falling in love again but it didn’t work, I was too broken and not able to see it, then I learned that hurt people hurt people, further down the road I learned that karma is a debt that must be paid, and when I tried to outsmart that, as if by a cosmic giggle karma showed me that the pound of flesh must be paid in full, I just didn’t think it would be that I’d meet the love of my life in you, but I’d have to live the rest of my life with the knowledge of your existence, knowing you are out there close enough for me to see you, and just far enough for me to never have access to you, my debt is paid in full, you will never know how my heart aches for you and the future life we never got to live, the real pain lies in knowing that you were the love of my life but to you I was just some guy that just couldn’t see your worth, I’ve written about this many times, but as always these words will never reach you, I know karma will make sure of that

Let the world love you as is. Let God love you as is. Let yourself love you as is.

There is nothing to be. There is only constant unfolding & evolution. The only real pain is in resistance & denial.

this one’s weird and morbid . funky 2am concept ramble. tw for murderrr

It wasn’t long until Vivian noticed the way Irma eyed the chemicals on the counter with anxious eyes. Their hands were balled to their chest, recoiled, afraid of what was laid before them.

“Oh, my dearest, you don’t have to be so complex.” She promised. She pressed herself to Irma’s back, and reached a slender hand over their shoulder. “It’s good to start simple. It doesn’t take much to kill a man.” She giggled gleefully, breath ticking their ear, sending a wash of goosebumps down their neck. “Not physically, anyway. Psychologically? Well, that’s a little more up for debate.”

She pulled back, took them by the hands, and twirled them around to face her. Her manic grin softened when she saw the worry on Irma’s face. “Don’t be scared, darling.” She cooed, so soft, so sweet. She cupped their cheek with a warm hand, and they leant instinctively into the touch, intoxicated. “It isn’t so hard. Just a little rat poison, in his evening scotch. Run upstairs and lock the doors.“ As she whispered the instructions so tender, she continued to caress their cheek. “Remember to cover your ears to block out the screaming, okay?”

For the rest of the evening, Irma remained slumped against Vivian’s shoulder. They watched through half-lidded eyes as she continued delicately stirring together the bottles of cleaning liquid she had laid out on the kitchen counter, until she proudly held up a beaker of a thin, green solutions. She winked conspiratorially at Irma, before dunking it into a bottle of beer.

Patting them on the back, Vivian led Irma out of the back door of the house once they heard clumping footsteps coming down the staircase. And as they hopped the garden fence, Irma could hear choked screams behind.

Quiet Places

Don't settle for average.

Refuse to conform.

Go your own way and march to the beat of your own drum.

When everyone does one thing, do another.

In the crowd, things become cloudy.

So, seek higher ground.

Get above it all.

There, you can breathe from 30,000 feet.

Because, if the very air from your lungs is the price to pay to belong, you know you'd rather not.

You'd rather go to the places where one seeks truth. 

The places where you can turn as many pages as you want.

Where you can stand and stare off into the distance. 

On the path near the water where your eyes can pierce a hole into the soul of the sea itself.

There the answers to the very mysteries of life lie and wait for someone to pick them up off the floor.

And my God, are they crying to be held.

But no one comes.

Be that person.

The person who finds solace in solitude.

The kind of solitude that makes you dream of worlds both old and new.

Where magic exists and adventure awaits. 

Where destiny is beholden. 

Where purpose doesn't lie in the next trend.

Where love is a many.

And kindness is plenty.

Do not be afraid of going there.

Of being alone.

Home is where the heart is.

And while there may not be many there,

the drums that beat like yours will find you.

And you'll realize, you were never alone.

You are home.

i want to have yellow flowers embroidered onto my coat. i want to live on my own with a cat. I want to be a spinster. I want to knit with arrows, yarn catching on the fletching. I want to be unaccompanied. I crave to be myself without presumption. I want to have yellow flowers embroidered onto my coat.

Streams of Thought, Vol. 1 & 2, Black Thought (2018)

Black Thought’s debut solo projects ooze a very fundamental – and profound – level of skill that’ll no doubt be of little surprise to any long-time Roots fans. Black Thought’s bars are dense, topically diverse and, yes, thoughtful, while the production and features are both slick and appropriate. Solid performances dominate these two releases, proof that, while Roots records over the last decade have been scarce and – for me, at least – unfulfilling, Thought is as sharp, dextrous and intriguing as ever.

Pick(s): ‘9th vs Thought’, ‘Conception’

People against piracy fail to realize that no, I can’t just ‘buy it.’ They stopped making DVDs and Blu-Rays. They’re barely offering digital copies for download. I am not spending money I could use for food or bills to pay for a subscription service just so I can always have access to a beloved piece of media. Especially not when the service will remove media on a whim without concern for how the loss of access to that piece will make its artistic conservation nigh impossible.

For example, I recently learned that Disney+ had an original film called Crater. It’s scifi, family friendly, and seems cool - I would love to buy it as a holiday gift for my little brother! But: it’s exclusive to D+ and THEY REMOVED IT LITERALLY MONTHS AFTER ITS RELEASE.

The ONLY way I can directly access this film is through piracy. The ONLY available ‘copies’ of this film are hosted on piracy websites. Disney will NEVER release it in theaters, or as something to buy, and it may NEVER return to the streaming service. It will be LOST because we aren’t allowed to purchase it for personal viewing. If I can’t pay to own it, I won’t pay for the privilege of losing it when corporate decides to put it in a vault.

So yes, I’m going to pirate and support piracy.

a comic/zine about coyotes

Black Thought & Salaam Remi - Streams of Thought, Vol. 2

Everything black thought does is just amazing no? This mans flow is probably the best in hip hop history and those smooth and incredible beats support his rapping amazingly. Of course nothing groundbreaking but like I said, Black Thought could rap over anything and it would sound great (but the instrumentals are also great!)

Rating: 8/10

spotlight stolen yet again

later:

dw he got apollo to wear the shirt eventually

Magic box.

To avoid any irrational and crazy ideas, I've stored all your belongings in a box—the gifts, the love notes, pictures, the dreams, and the hopes we had. In there I put away the life I believed we could have had. The troubling part is, a part of me feels that our story somehow continues inside that box. Now, I'm hesitant to ever open it, in fear that if I do, the magic will disappear, leaving it just an ordinary box filled with old stuff.

original x

tw gore

-

He coughs.


And chokes.


And starts to collapse to the floor.

Irma can’t look away. He’s trying to take breaths, to cling to his final lifelines - to no avail. Every breath is cut short before it can begin, and he just ends up making these pathetic, choked sounds. With every breath, something hoarse starts to form in the back of his throat. And with a few more, blood begins to spurt feebly out of his mouth.

The colour is hypnotising. It’s a stark crimson against the ghostly white hue his face has turned. They take a few, tentative steps closer, feeling Vivian’s dark gaze on their back, appraising. As they near him, he slumps onto his hands and knees, and hacks a thick glob of blood onto the hardwood floor.

Far away, Vivian tuts disapprovingly. “I’m going to have to scrub that off later, you know.” Her voice fills every inch of Irma’s skull, enveloping their entire world. “You’re a guest in this house.”

Irma continues to stare down at him. He raises his head, staring at them with bulging eyes. They’re raw and red from lack of oxygen, and specks of blood fleck in the corners. Blood trickles from his mouth to his chin in a neat little line. He gasps, tries to gasp, his chest heaving with the movement.

From here, Irma could snap his neck. Make things quick. But they don’t. He doesn’t deserve an easy departure.

He’s turning blue, now, and his eyes are starting to go glassy. He glares past Irma, to some light at the end of the tunnel, maybe. Or maybe his eyes can’t focus anymore. One of the two.

And, before they know it, he drops. His arms give out, unable to sustain his weight anymore. He hits the ground with a rather anticlimactic thwack!

The sound makes Irma chuckle. It’s soft at first, but it makes Vivian laugh too. Vivian’s laughter is always infectious, so it makes Irma laugh more.

And then they can’t remember why they’re laughing.


And then they start crying.

Somewhere along the way, in the haze of gasping tears and hysterical cackling, Vivian loops her arms around their waist, cuddles up to them on the floor - when did they end up on the floor? - and laughs along with them.

On the bloodstained hardwood, body rotting by their sides, they laugh together until they collapse in each others’ arms, hoarse and exhausted.

"i just want non-queers to just see me as a normal person just like them" cool good for you. meanwhile ive been a weird little freak since i was a kid and the world is gonna have to learn to accept me like i am or ill start burning shit

you can be down for simple assimilation for yourself but many of us just want to be respected as is because theres nothing wrong with being different. especially those of us who are also neurodivergent on top of queer or many other things people often ostracize in society.

if you want other queers to water themselves down or just completely close off parts of their identity and self expression so that you wont be associated with those ~freaks~ and can be more easily accepted by The Normies, then you are not caring about your fellow queers at all.

we arent doing any harm, and we should be pushing for people to accept others no matter how HARMLESSLY strange and unusual they may come across. challenging the norm is the only way to get more people accepted across all communities.

phil is honestly great representation for smart people who can’t speak

totally how that scene went right.

bonus: