i ordered dominos bc its the last day of their 50% off and they forgot a topping and they delivered to the wrong building so i gave feedback on the website and they called me back and left a message offering me free stuff but tbh i don’t want free stuff or a credit i just want sausage on the pizza i’m eating right now
@shimmerleaf & @blurobolobo: Hah! I knew it! I suspected it but now it’s confirmed…! Your dirtiness levels are at that of an elementary school boy of the 90′s. [[Because they were ‘purer’ then, you see.]] Now I’m laughing, looool I’m using this against you two for sure! AHAHAHAHA.
quick doodle of pastel kaiser chan from this afternoon i did in between frantic pokemon games… which i’m still playing in a great effort to avoid assignments which weren’t as easy as i thought they were going to be…. i don’t want to do it……i just want 5 eevees
tumblr says “reverse crypt scene,” and it’s 2015 & Barbara Kruger made this in 1981 & I just wait around endlessly for it to stop being true that men can only express emotion onscreen through beating the shit out of each other, while viewers are left with the hard unpaid labor of reading their inarticulacy and ill-concealed microexpressions; but maybe two seasons of television, or ten, or thirty-five years since Barbara Kruger decided red was an obvious color choice for this frisky battle royale, or a hundred years of cinema, or a few centuries of printed material, or barely five millennia of literacy—maybe it just isn’t long enough, and we’re fortunate that at least some humans have developed a sort of compensatory faculty, that passionate attentive fans are gifted with sixth-sense perspicacity and penetrating insight in order to see through blood splatters and past inflicted contusions directly into character, to surmount hurdles of mumbled blunt gruff monosyllables and truncated physical gestures, to intuit or infer or imagine (depending on your viewpoint) that these men in fact love each other deeply. as long as this labor doesn’t also train its practitioners to think they must do this in actual felt life, that this is what’s expected of you, to look into someone’s stony features as they hurt and injure, telling yourself you can see their hidden motivations, tragic backstory and unexpressed-because-inexpressible feelings. or, perhaps it’s the other way around: certain demographics have more seemingly native talent at exegesis precisely because they’ve already had a hunter’s childhood of training, and a decade or two or four of life experiences, all preparing them to do exactly this, and to do it well, lest they make a mistake in reading the text and be punished by that text accordingly. wind up butchered in a bathtub, at the end unfriended and alone.
and now you will write codas that render those unexpressed words clear, and make gifsets that flay the subtlest movements crystalline (trembling hand, swallowing throat, averted eyes, microscopic ghost of a smile); and I will write about what you make, and about you: how marvelous you are, how tirelessly and with such love you spin gold again and again from the poorest straw.
in the newest text, even isn’t being clingy. he’s looking for reassurance. he knows that isak is uncomfortable and is trying to get a sense of how he feels, even if it means sending him weird memes at 1 am.