you, with your hands splayed out in little decadent arcs. how god sent a bird to cut through my heart. your voice a grand piano. this, a church space. worship; cry out. i saw you and knew i could never find peace.

you watched me undo myself on the beautiful green; angel feathers in my teeth. i suddenly understood the temptation of eve. i wanted your red hair in my hands. i wanted you under me. the kick to the ribs every time we lock eyes, the dip of your chin, that coy smile. you, somehow knowing.

only you. the rest of the world went silent. all of vegas lost power; the congregation silent behind our doors. we sanctify only in the silken dark. just beak and maw. i would have spooled the whole aria of my life through you. undone eden. is it prayer, is it pleading? the soft release of your voice; that gentle way you play me so precise that i rend apart.

was this the worship i lacked? that precious velvet world you render. the way you love me through my suffering. godhood in you. this place outside; this remade holy. you made a garden appear where had only been concrete. the whole hotel burning down behind us; you still sang me to sleep. you belong to the veil. i felt it whisper while you passed your mouth over me.

we have been given so few scraps and been told to enjoy our feast. we spent so much of our time here starving. so much is missing from me. before this, they took my mother and my love and my future. so many girls missing. they grew sick at the idea of us, overwhelmed with disgust. i kept my hands still rather than spoil this world with the broken car window of my heart. and still: you came here, spine straight, smile quiet. the gravedirt gathered around you - secret places you had chosen to plant flowers. wearing the shadows like a gown, sewing it into art. this way you fold our little space and make something new from nothing. this way that your gentle music took a backroom and made it into a steeple.

i want you like a reprieve. i want you like it is both prayer and pleading. i want you like a better memory. my hand in yours, pressed down on satin sheets. our bodies tangled, desperate, thrumming. the sweet blue of night, your breath in a sigh, the curve of melody. the crane of your neck, and how it kills me. like this, i understand the point of the fight. like this, even just standing up seems like victory. like this, the dirt and blood taste like glory.

i am a being capable of immeasurable love and whimsy

the baby has one parent's little face marking thing and the other's coat because they're a little horse family the world is a beautiful place

why should palestinians have to leave behind their land because israel wont stop killing them. why should anyone have to leave behind their life and memories and sentimental value just because an aggressor is left unchallenged. please think this sentiment through and delete it from your thoughts. instead of blaming an oppressed people for living in a hostile land, ask who is making that land hostile to live in.

im already at the south downs cottage guys, catch up

sick of this anti-aging obsession. let's go in the opposite direction. i want more characters who are hardened & grizzled & have a face lined with the harrowing tribulations of time--and then halfway through the narrative u find out they're 27

harry du bois steps up to the lectern in front of the crowd. "as a lesbian...." he pauses, looks at kim questioningly. kim shakes his head imperceptibly. harry looks back at the audience "...supporter"

when we’re done with our overwhelming grief we’ll eat i guess

i think one of my favourite parts about the "Jason has an army of kids in Crime Alley that will do anything to protect their protector" HC is that they absolutely would inherit all of his 'little shit' traits. they'd throw the other Bats off course on purpose. Dick, trying to find Jay: Have you seen Hood, by any chance? Kid: Sure I did. 'e's gone to the ice-cream store down in th'Narrows. He buys us ice-cream, sometimes. Dick: okay, thanks kid! (backflips away) Dick: Dick: there's no ice-cream store near the Narrows. Tim, just walking by Crime Alley: The kids, throwing rocks at him while Jason watches in amusement:

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

sneepy day

with that said there are characters that a fat maybe not canonically but they are spiritually. to me. they may not be drawn that way but i know whats true. ive seen it like a sort of prophet

I could get the clink for life, or the electric chair. But I don’t want to die a virgin.

i need well meaning cis people to stop attemping to steelman trans healthcare conversations because it basically always ends with them just lying about easily checkable things "no minors are getting irreversible treatments" wrong not true "no minors are having surgery" also false, like instead just say the truth: currently some minors (few, but some) are able to access hrt that will have some irreversible changes on their body, some (even fewer) minors are able to access surgery.

the counter to transphobes screaming "these kids are being irreversibly changed" isn't "no children are accessing this care" it's "puberty is also an irreversible change" and "i think under 18s and even under 16s should be able to make medical decisions actually"

"no minors are accessing this care" means that transphobes can easily point to the examples of minors who are accessing that care, which just make us look like liars. sometimes teenagers and children need to make medical choices on their own. i think a 14 y/o should be able to get an abortion. i think trans kids and teens should be able to have the approriate care, which for some will just be like, picking a new name or haircut, and for some, sure, could be surgery.

That one wizard from that one game and his cat 🔮✨