i am old and everything is old

Something incredibly interesting to me in the last several seasons is how readily the Doctor and Missy throw around the word “friend.” (“I want my friend back!” “I want you to meet a couple friends of mine.” “I am your friend.” “She’s my friend.”) No more of this “best enemies” thing. It’s like they are both too old for that crap and completely accept that despite their wildly contrasting views on everything they are friends. Ten and Simm!Master were still in denial about that, which was part of their terrific tension. Makes me wonder if that will be a point of contention between Simm!Master and Gomez!Master. Simm!Master was still willing to torture the Doctor. Gomez!Master is still super nasty and evil, but likes giving the Doctor (unhealthy) gifts, like robot armies and Clara Oswald instead. And for his part, the Doctor is just casually resigned to the fact that this evil murdering psychopath is is great friend. I think Simm!Master might be aghast.

jungianca6  asked:

Wow, since 2013... I wonder how Tumblr and all sites were back in the day when S1 came out. Unfortunately I missed it and joined until last year lmao. Hey, you're like a veteran of the Snk fandom

I am indeed one of the veteran squad haha, idk why spending years of my life being a weeb should make me proud but I kind of am lmao

but I’ve seen some crazy shit, no regrets

*opens old fandom folder* let’s see
one thing I don’t miss from 2013 is whip wars, we still have some, but 2013 ships wars were fucking brutal lol

half of snk 2013 fandom was plastering this face of Levi on everything

this pose too

2013 fandom basically

the gifs were everything lmao

MI CASA jokes everywhere because we were that lame lmao (like we aren’t now lol)

literally very unnecessary horse jean edits, like why lmao (and why do I have it saved qsfsfs)


qsfdsfs sorry I opened this old folder of mine and got carried away, I’m so surprised of all the shit I still have saved lmao

but yeah lol


Every hope
The silver lining that you’ve ignored

It won’t be the same anymore
Bring me back to life
Everything I’ve done before
Comes crashing down, I’m feeling low
But is this the reality or just another dream
Maybe I’m falling
And dreaming
Or am I dead?
Everything is gone now
I’m six feet under
Regrets and memories, for me to wonder
Rest in peace
They say to me
But I just wanted to be free
Maybe falling
I’m Dreaming
Or am I dead?
And this silence
Bred into my selfless violence
What have I done to myself?
Just to kill my pride
And now I am dead
Why cant you hear me right now

Nightcall ft. Dreamhour - Dead V



GIF GIF GIF GIF…. this shouldn´t become one at the beginning… and then… it got out of control @_@ And I made 10 or 15 versions of that piece, because I am NOT HAPPY, how Jian Yi came out T___T I am so sorry for the fans, I will try to make something better the next days!! And I know now, that I can´t draw anything that I want… that head + face was the hell for me :( I have so much to practice, and on the other side sooo many ideas, that I wanna bring on my screen!! But I don´t like the last things I draw, especially THIS!! I wanna cry…. I am not good at all now, and one week ago I was so happy to get so many, wonderful new followers, but now I am like “why do they like that pieces of sh**??” I can´t make ME pleased, so how is it, that I make other people happy with it? ARRR my head hurts and my mood is not good, so I will go shopping now with my mom and hope that it become better ;)~

getupoffathathang  asked:

FlintWood Stop being so lame For the drabbles u ship them right?

“Stop being so lame,” Marcus complained, reaching for the glass that Oliver had just swiped from him.

“I’m being ‘lame’ because you told me to stop you after six drinks, Marcus,” his boyfriend replied, holding the firewhisky that Marcus very much wanted just out of reach.

“Sober me is stupid,” Marcus said, lunging a bit towards the tumbler in Oliver hand, failing, and collapsing onto Oliver’s lap instead. “You shouldn’t listen to him,” Marcus muttered, rubbing his cheek against Oliver’s jeans.

“Sober you says the same thing about drunk you.”

“So I’m always stupid. Big deal.” Marcus grinned up at Oliver. “You still like me anyway.”

Oliver rolled his eyes.

“Merlin knows why,” he said, but the exasperation in his voice was undercut by the affectionate smile on his lips as he took a sip of Marcus’ drink.

“No fair,” Marcus pouted, looking up at the drink with longing, but his arms were too heavy to try to grab at it again.

“Since when do you know a goddamn thing about being fair, Flint?” Oliver laughed.

“You’re just mad I’m better at Quidditch than you.”

“I might be if that was even remotely true.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t.”

“I know.” Marcus closed his eyes, a smile on his face and Oliver’s hand stroking his hair.

Send me a ship and a sentence, I’ll write the next five (or so)


when will we learn how old kou is!!!!!!!!! 

but this is also sort of interesting… it feels like kou should know how old kei is because he was on the news constantly, but it kind of implies he saw kei with his lack of innocence and thought he was older. “i am a high schooler” is like, reminding us how young kei really is (17 years old) despite everything that is going on

but anyway. this was a Scene

that one post about the summer science camp and the kids covered in shaving cream eating the watermelon alien eggs in the middle of the night isnt even surprising.  Like all the comments on it are like “wtf is this” but those people have never been to a summer camp.  As someone who went to one from 8th to 12th grade, summer camps are surreal and just plain weird like

  • that one year where the entire group had an intense obsession with old bay seasoning.  old bay got put on everything. pasta. sandwiches. chips. pudding. a guy snorted it
  • same kid also drank dirty taco dishwater on a dare
  • flies on leashes
  • one of the guys had 4 pairs of decorative boxers.  he shared them with 3 other guys and they wore them over their shorts for at least 3 days.  they wore them in public.  theres a picture of them doing model poses in front of a waterfall wearing fluorescent decorative boxers over their shorts
  • a girl deadpan goes “i am the captain now” and then pushes our counselor out of the raft into the white water rapids.  he was cool with it
  • the 2 guys that shared a canoe and tipped their boat 7 times in 30 min
  • everyone imitates a velociraptor when you cross that specific field on the hike. no one questions it
  • the indestructable piece of firewood that became a minor deity
  • hearing coughing and screaming in the tents at 12 am because someone decided to kill all the bugs on the ceiling of their tent with a 10 second long spray of 40% deet aerosol bug repellent
  • someone put a frog in a kids shower.  he let it stay in there with him.  he kept it for the next 5 hours.  it sat by his bowl at dinner
  • pillow fight using entire couch cushions in a shabby 1800′s log cabin
  • on the last night at camp we go back to the main property where the hotel is. the hotel kitchen has a cookie jar.  we wanted cookies.  so logically, we dressed in all black, put black mesh kits over our heads, grabbed a bunch of pool noodles, and “snuck” up to the half mile to the hotel, dropping to the ground anytime a car passed vaguely in our direction.  we send a kid into the kitchen through a side door.  he is acting as a decoy to get the staff out of the kitchen.  he says he is a guest and cannot find the bathrooms (especially not the one in his guest room). he is still wearing the mock ninja attire.  the last 2 staff leave to show him where the bathroom is in his own room that he doesnt actually have.  everyone else in our group goes into the kitchen to get the cookies. the cookie jar is empty.  we end up taking a half eaten loaf of wonder bread instead.  we run back away from the hotel waving pool noodles in the air holding a loaf of wonder bread.  no one questioned any part of this entire event. 

basically dont underestimate the surrealist hive mind of a small group of people cut of from all social conventions for a week

Silver Storm (4/?)

Summary: While on trip out of state, you were taken by Hydra. You were barely 21 at the time. Hydra took you and turned you into another asset, matching the Winter Soldier’s abilities. They injected you with a serum similar to his, wiped you,  and instructed the soldier himself to train you. He was hard on you, but when it was just the two of you he let his walls down. You were each other’s comfort, until the events of D.C when he was sent to kill Captain America. After that day, you never saw him again. You were told he abandoned you, that he was on the other side now. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, but what happens when he comes bursting through the doors of your facility?

Memories are in Italics, bold is readers thoughts *

It’s kind of a slow chapter guys, but itll step up for the next ones!

Pairing: none so far, but Bucky x reader (eventually) , reader x avengers

Warnings: swearing, torture, violence, sadness

 - I wasn’t aware there was already a superhero with this name, so my character is in no way connected to  Marvels Silver Storm! *

                                                    Chapter 4

   You stare at the screen, still in shock. You begin reading off the information out loud. Tears are streaming down your face as you pull your lip between your teeth. Y/n?   Reading your name seems to strike  a nerve, a familiar sharp pain spikes through your head. A whimper leaves your lips, causing all eyes to snap to you.

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!” your sister, Anne, shouts as she tackles you onto the floor. A giggle escapes you and you roll around the floor encased in her arms. You look to her face, taking in her chocolate brown eyes and long brown hair. She was beaming a smile at you and laughing. You hear two other laughs in the room and see your brothers, Ryan and Kyle. They join you and your sister on the floor, all of of you laughing. You see yourself, at only 5years old, with all your older siblings loaded on you in a pile.

You break out of the memory, the tears still flowing from you.

“Y/n,” you whisper. No one says anything, they just continue looking at you. “Is my family still-”

The black widow cuts you off, “We have protection on them in case Hydra goes for them.” You nod, trying to process everything.

“How- how old am I now? What year is it?”

“It’s 2017. Physically you’re 21, but really you should be 29.”

“It’s only been 8 years?” shock apparent in your voice. It felt like decades.

“Uh guys, you might want to keep reading.” You hear Sam say. You move, facing the screen again, except new information is showing.  You read through the rest, discovering that Hydra gained you from staging a car accident. They hit your car on accident, pulled you from the wreckage, then burned the cars completely. Having an inside agent announce that your body burned completely in the accident and declaring you dead the next day to your family. You watch the videos of what they did to; the injections, the torture, and the training you went through with the Soldier. Watching the brutality and force of the soldier makes everyone cringe. You see the ashamed look on Bucky’s face. 

Originally posted by n-barnes

 You tilt his face down to yours. “That wasn’t you and I know that. Everyone knows that,” you say calmly. He nods, the guilt still present on his face. You cup his cheek with your hand and he leans into it. He blushes, sending a blush of your own across your cheeks as you realize what you’re doing.

“Alright, why don’t we get her evaluated so she can be situated somewhere more comfortable than that cell?” The scarlet Witch suggests. You look towards her and see a welcoming smile. She comes to you, standing in front of you and Bucky.

“I’m Wanda, it’s nice to meet you, y/n.” Her accent is beautiful and her tone sends a feeling of safety through you for some reason. You smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Wanda,” you say quietly, still shy. Bucky explains Wanda’s powers to you and how she can use them to help you with your memories. You hesitate, not wanting to expose her to disgusting memories from Hydra. But when she says she helped Bucky, you agree to her help. They rest of the team that you didn’t know introduce themselves. They all seem nice but still wary of you. I can’t blame them though, I’m a monster. Finally, Wanda and Bucky lead you to where the man that Tony hired to evaluate you is.

  Two days later.

 The Doctor that did your  evaluation cleared you, stating you show the same signs of PTSD that Bucky did when he first came to the tower. Tony was still being unfriendly to you, but Steve and Bucky assured you he’d come around. Everyone except Wanda, Steve and Bucky were nice but still distant. One of the three of them has been by your side throughout the last two days. It was refreshing to have people to talk to and laugh with. You start feeling semi normal again. Memories have appeared; ones of your siblings and more of your time in your cell with Bucky.

You’re sitting on the couch with Bucky when a new one slips through. You whimper at the pain, causing Bucky to look to you.

  You were sitting in your cell with Winter, both of you silent. An agent had just come in, telling Winter he was being sent on an important mission; something about taking down a group called SHIELD and another assassination. This target was a man named Nick Fury. They told him they would be leaving in 10 minutes and that he would be filled in on the jet. Fear set through you, the thought of him not returning played in your mind. You could tell the time was almost up. He would be leaving soon and you wouldn’t see him until the mission was over.  As he stood, so did you. You walked over to him and pulled him into a kiss. He didn’t respond at first, but after he realized what you were doing he kissed back. The kiss was slow and needy. Tears fell from your eyes as you lips move with his. You heard footsteps approaching and remove yourself from him.

Originally posted by autumnleaves-summercomesx

“Come back to me in one piece, Winter,” you whispered. He wiped a tear from your cheek.

“I will always come back to you, моя любовь (my love).” The door swung open and he left.

 You come out of the memory, tears falling from your eyes. You look up, seeing Wanda has entered the room. “Oh my God,” she whispers.

“What did you remember?” Bucky asks, tilting your face to his. He wipes the tears from your face, just like he did in the memory.

“I -I remember the last day I saw you. When you were sent to take down SHIELD.”  A sob escapes you and he pulls you to him. Wanda sits on the other side of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn and hug her, surprising her and Bucky; you’ve only really shown physical affection towards him. You begin to pull away, feeling as if you crossed a line, but she wraps her arms around you before you do.

You hear her voice echo in your head. “Don’t cry, y/n. He is here with you now. You have no idea how much he loves having you here. I can feel how much he cares for you and his thoughts are very loud when he thinks of you.” You chuckle, pulling away from Wanda.

“Thank you,” you say to her. She smiles and leaves you with Bucky. You lean back into him, relaxing.

“I’m not leaving you, not again Y/n,” he says, placing kisses in your hair. You look to the window, realizing it must be late by how dark it is. You fight back a yawn but it still comes out. Exhaustion sets in, your eyelids getting heavier.

“Ready for bed, Doll?” he asks. Since getting cleared nights ago, you’ve spent the night in Bucky’s bed, curled into his side.

You both stand, and he takes your hand in his. As you enter his room, you see all the shopping bags along the back wall of his room. Tony sent Wanda and Natasha to pick you up some clothes the other day. They returned with what seemed like 100 bags filled with shirts, pants, underwear , bras, and shoes. When you thanked Tony, he just waved you off.

Bucky lets you go, going to grab pajamas for the both of you. Even though you have all these new clothes, you still chose to wear one of his shirts to bed.

“Uh Bucky, I think I’m going to take a shower,” You say, heading to the bathroom. He nods, already getting in bed. You close the door behind you and begin stripping off you day clothes. You turn the shower on and step in.  A moan escapes you at the feeling of warm water hitting your body. As you wash your hair, another memory appears.

 You were laying with Winter on the hard concrete floor of your shared cell. He had his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. You tilted his head towards you and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“What was that for?” He asked when you pull away.

“No reason.” You leaned up, kissing him again, except this time it was heated. You bit at his bottom lip, sliding your tongue into his mouth when he moaned. Your tongues fought for dominance, and he won as he swiftly shifted your body under his. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him against you. He kissed down your neck, then back up to your lips.

“Winter,” you moaned as his hips move against yours. His lips left your neck, moving to your ear.

“I love you, Мой солнечный свет ( my sunshine).”  You froze at his words.

“I love you, too,” you reply as you kissed him deeply.

Originally posted by negasonic-teenage-what-da-shit

 You shake off the memory. When you take in your surroundings, your eyes go wide. You are still in the shower, but not alone. Your back is pressed against Bucky’s chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He loved me?

“Bucky what-”

“I heard your sob and something fall from the bed. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll g-” You turn around in his arms, your bare chest pressing against his. You look down seeing his flannel pants still on his body.

“You do know you’re still wearing pants, right?” you chuckle.

The confession in the memory replays in your mind as you run your hands up and around his neck. He looks down at you shocked.

 "Y/n, what are you -“

You lean up, barely brushing your lips against his when you are interrupted by frantic knocking.

Originally posted by its-never-too-late-too-love

"Buck, is everything okay in there?” You hear Steve yell through the door. Damn it Steve.

@film-it-fuck-it-live-it–abigail  @ladydarcyofcamelotandasgard  @cate-lynne  @gooseyhouse  @hollycornish  @unusallycarbonatedbagel  @bluebrrn  @dogsareradandstuff  @a-book-pressed-rose  @smadrat  @bangtanjm  @bethabear12  @reinakatarina  @infinite-exist-ence  @mcsmashdesigns  @skeletoresinthebasement  @thenerdylesbian  @echelonwonderland  @mayayeah  @mutherfuckinstarboy  @liamjpayne-o  @camila1818  @superflowergirlxxlove  @bodyasleep-mindawake  @omggrace31   @ssa-nightowl  @bexboo616  @prostheticsoldier  @vivianbabz  @tequilavet  @abbybills22  @atlcowgirl  @weirdlyobsessedreader  @life-what-life-i-dont-have-one  @ohitsjustcorina  @vaisabu  @undiscl0sed-desir3s  @wildchild2707  @ok-ladies-lets-get-in-formation   @baileys-corner

* Sorry if I missed anyone !

Out of Feathers, Out of Bones [an elucien epistolary fic] part 1

Elain travels Prythian learning to accept her new life and powers, but better than any glittering court is her tentative correspondence with her mate. (rated g, set post-acowar so minor spoilers)

on ao3

Originally posted by angelkarafilli

Lady Elain,

I hope this letter finds you well. And I also hope it isn’t overly presumptuous of me to send this at all. I wrote to Feyre a month ago, telling her I’d be longer in the spring court than I planned; They need all the assistance they can get reorganizing after the war. Is it right to call it a war when it lasted less than a month? The extended skirmish. No, sorry, that makes it sound silly, and the death toll was

I’ve already restarted this letter four times, and Tamlin does not possess an unlimited supply of stationery, so I’m going to keep going. My apologies for that babbling and any in the rest.

Keep reading

‘’Tale as old as time

Song as old as rhyme

Beauty and the Beast’’

If someone thought i wouldn’t draw the dance scene from Tale as Old as Time fic. I honestly sorry bC HERE I AM XDD Animation movies AU’s are my new adiction and @vixenfur and @mikaisatop are the ones I blame for this one U_U

(The bg wasnt draw by me, it was taken from the original movie ;) )

Story Time!

When my parents got me my first smart phone, they said it was ok to have a pass code if I wanted. But they said nothing on there was of interest to them and I believed them, why should they care about my conversations between my friends, my boyfriend, people I meet on the internet? They trusted me to come to them if I had anything that worried me or somebody was bothering me or anything.

Seemed fair and square, I didn’t normally get into the kinds of situations most teenage girls find difficult to handle; if somebody was bothering me, I’d tell them to get lost and it worked. So, I didn’t bother with a pass code, trusting them also that on my phone was my private business so they shouldn’t be going through that stuff.

However, one day, I left my phone downstairs after dinner and they went through it, finding out about my friends, my boyfriend, anything that was linked to me at all, right down to going through every conversation I had ever had on Facebook.

After I realised I had left it, I went back down to a seemingly normal scenario, mum and dad watching TV, granddad in the other room doing whatever he was doing, but my parents started to basically shame me on everything they had found. They shamed me for talking to my boyfriend the way I did, they shamed me for being friends with certain people and they even went through Tumblr, shaming me for feeling the way I do. There was no support, I had no time to explain anything and they just sent me to my room without any kind of reasoning.

I was so angry and upset about what they had done, I went upstairs and deleted everything I could, my old blog, old conversations, my Facebook messages. I eradicated as much as I could afford to. I felt so naked, so exposed. They knew everything I had done in the last three months or so and that left me feeling completely vulnerable.

To this day, I have always had a pass code on my phone. And not one of those shitty pattern ones, a 12 digit pass code that I change at least weekly to hide myself from them. I am scared to tell them anything, I hide away everything that is me from them because they couldn’t respect my privacy. This happened when I was fourteen, now I’m coming up on eighteen and the hurt is still there and the pass code is still in place.

Parents, please, if you pry into your children’s business, they will shrink away from you and hide. Let them come to you, don’t make them scared of you. I have never forgiven my parents for that and that is something you don’t want weighing down on your conscience, just don’t do it.

If you’re worried about your kid, just ask them, chances are, they’re fine.

5-year-separation positivity hour

Okay I started writing this last night but I feel like it needs to have an actual post about this. I still don’t know the spoilers for the finale, so please don’t tell me!

Okay, so let’s say Bellamy and Clarke are indeed separated. I know a lot of you will be pissed off for delaying Bellarke further, but hear me out: this can be really good for actually making them canon.

This got really long so I’m placing it under the cut.

Keep reading

Which star wars villain should you fight?

maybe you express love by yelling “fight me!” with tears streaming down your face. maybe you need to work out your repressed trauma, or maybe you just want some exercise. Whichever it is, here’s everything you need to know to decide which pillar of galactic evil to bloody your knuckles on!

Darth Vader

Do it. Fight Darth Vader. You’ll never win, and that’s the goal. from the cradle to the coffin, every one of us knows who he is and what he’s capable of, and yearns to erotically asphyxiated by the one true goth of all time. Fight him, and gasp your final breath to the thrilling thunder of the imperial march

end fight probability: 300% you die highly aroused and emotionally fulfilled


Not a good idea at all. If you must scratch the vengeance itch, dew it, but he’s slippery for such a crusty dude and dreadfully powerful. Watch out for those sharp, germy fingers.

end fight probability: 80% he fries you to a crisp, 20% you win but later die of infected wounds

Darth Maul

Don’t even fucking try. This bugger can survive literally anything. Give up.

end fight probability: 200% even if you shoot him into the fucking sun, he survives it

General Grievous

Why would you fight my old boy Grievous? he’s just trying to do his job and he’s so tired. Look at the bags under his eyes. And he has asthma. if you decide to be a heartless beast and fight him anyway, you will lose, because he has four arms and he’s 7 feet tall. Just buy him a drink and leave him alone.

end fight probability: 100% he cuts you into sashimi, but you deserve it for picking a fight with Johnny-four-lightsabers

Count Dooku

I can’t imagine feeling anything about him strongly enough to warrant a fight, but if that’s your thing, go ahead I guess. Put out his creepy eyes first.

end fight probability: 60% you win because he’s old, but sustain injuries

Kylo Ren

Please, fight him. Beat his ass. if you can dodge the saber and hold off laughing long enough to get a grip on his hair, he’ll trip over his own garments trying to shake you off and fall on his own blades. finish it up by crushing his windpipe so we never have to suffer his insufferable voice ever again. Good luck and godspeed.

end fight probability: 82% you rip his face off (100% I need counseling)


Don’t fight this crusty boy until we know more about his stats. but if you decide to anyway, he has serious claws – you better protect your neck against a Gollum-style strangling. he’s survived this far, he can probably survive a lot more. if you can take him seriously long enough to attack.

end fight probability: 75% he bludgeons you with a frozen rat (his supper) while screaming “for the last goddamn time I am NOT darth plageius”


Definitely fight him, take out all your inner rage on the poster boy for creepy old white men who ruin everything. The main thing is to watch out for those cheekbones, which can probably split wood and definitely slice your hand off. Don’t be distracted by his foul stench either. The good news is that he’s old and frail and the only exercise he’s ever had is furiously jacking it to imperialist propaganda.

end fight probability: 90% you kill him, 64% the spores released by his disintegrating corpse give you a debilitating lung disease


Fight him, but be careful about it, he’s famously prone to violent confrontation and not afraid to start swinging. Target his major weakness: the aesthetic. if you can stand on his cape you can probably immobilize him.

end fight probability: 80% you win with minor injuries


this guy is literally everything wrong with the world today –  fascism, gingers, men who won’t shut up. Fight him and kill him for all of us. It’ll be easy, he looks to be made of damp bread & library paste. Go for it. Wring his neck

end fight probability: 99% you break every bone in his pathetic body


This is a tricky one. if you’re a wookiee, go ahead, you may able to win. If you’re human, you will be slammed to the ground before you knew what hit you, with a blaster barrel in your mouth. But if you’re a lesbian that was probably the goal all along.

end fight probability: 110% she breaks every bone in your pathetic body


Deep down, we all want to either fight him or fuck him, so do it. Fight him. Grab him by that gigantic forehead and smash him through a wall, which was part of his master plan all along, of course. He’ll bust out those thick blue biceps and either the brawl will continue or you’ll end up making passionate love on the floor.

end fight probability: whatever happened, it was artistically done

From Awakening Osiris,
The Egyptian Book of the Dead:

45. Becoming the Child

In seafoam, in swirlings and imaginings I am fish, tadpole, crocodile. I am an urge, an idea, a portent of impossible dreams. I lie between heaven and earth, be­tween goodness and evil, patience and explosion. I am innocent and rosy as dawn. I sleep with my finger in my mouth, the cord of life curled beside my ear. Like a child in its mother’s belly, I am with you but not among you. I know no ending for I have no beginning. I have always been here, a child in the silence of things, ready to wake at any moment.
I am possibility.
What I hate is ignorance, smallness of imagination, the eye that sees no farther than its own lashes. All things are possible. When we speak in anger, anger will be our truth. When we speak in love and live by love, truth in love will be our comfort.
Who you are is limited only by who you think you are.
I am the word before its utterance. I am thought and desire. I am a child in the throat of god.
Things are possible—joy and sorrow, men and women, children. Someday I’ll imagine myself a different man, build bone and make flesh around him. I am with you but a moment for an eternity. I am the name of everything.
I’ve dreamed the nightmare a hundred times, that old revulsion of bone and flesh, waking in sweat, in a headlong rush toward the world, into the cool certainty of fires that burn in sudden stars, the heat in the body. That I am precludes my never having been.
What I know was given to me to say. There is more.
There are words that exist only in the mind of heaven, a bright knowing, a clear moment of being. When you know it, you know yourself well enough. You will not speak.
I am a child resting in love, in the pleasure of clouds. I read the book of the river. I hold the magic of stones and trees. I find god in my fingers and in the wings of birds. I am my delight, creator of my destiny. It is not vanity.
There are those who live in the boundaries of guilt and fear, the limits of imagination. They believe limita­tion is the world. You can not change them. There is work of your own to do. You will never reach the end of your own becoming, the madness of creation, the joy of existence.
Dance in the moment. Reach down and pull up song. Spin and chant and forget the sorrow that we are flesh on bone. I return to the rhythm of water, to the dark song I was in my mother’s belly. We were gods then and we knew it. We are gods now dancing in whirling dark­ness, spitting flame like stars in the night.
In the womb before the world began, I was a child among other gods and children who were, or may be, or might have been. There in the dark when we could not see each other’s faces, we agreed with one mind to be born, to separate, to forget the pact we made that we might learn the secrets of our fraternity.
We agreed to know sorrow in exchange for joy, to know death in ex­change for life. We were dark seeds of possibility whisper­ing. Then one by one we entered alone. We walked on our legs, and as we had said, we passed in well-lit streets without recognizing each other; yet we were gods sheathed in flesh, the multitude of a single spirit. Gods live even in darkness, in the world above your heads, in the crevices of rocks, in the open palms of strangers.
I am a child, the seed in everything, the rhythm of flowers, the old story that lingers. Among cattle and fruit sellers, I am air. I am love hidden in a shy maiden’s gown. I am the name of things. I am the dream changing before your eyes. I am my body, a house for blood and breath. I am a man on earth and a god in heaven. While I travel the deserts in frail form, while I grow old and weep and die, I live always as a child inside the body of truth, a blue egg that rocks in the storm but never breaks. I sleep in peace in my mother’s lap, a child mesmerized by sunlight on the river. My soul is swallowed up by god.
Out of chaos came the light.
Out of the will came life.

Pharaonic Freedom

She flips her wrists with eyes of green -
Fire hiss

Jeans of squeezable snakes, she grips

Clench her seat, a throne, crinkle nose

A lilliputian heart -
Little nothings inside!

With an arm, she could raise revolt
Her ears could point, lick hands
Anoint us

We but cockroaches, damned

She summon-purrs me to her side
Asks my name!

I give her a false one, false reason
Why am I there?
A lilting pharaonic accent
Like a red carpet soaked in scorn

I bow, I give her everything
I’m not
Tesserae of plaster bone

Expecting pretty prophecy
Like old lady perfumed powder
She lisps through pointed teeth, the old

I saw the signs
Turmoil like bacterial spread
A chaos love, I know too well

She whispers plans
I stifle laughter

Beyond futures, the islands flood
She falls again, the prophecy -

I cycle failure, She? Breaks pasts?
Legend? Advent of freedom flies?

May she become a funny antidote
May she be mere fascination
Wow, someone once believed in her?


The minimum age for signing up for a Tumblr account is 13. I, at the time of writing this, am 23.

It would be bizarre of me to treat a 13 year old as though they are the same age as me. I have a 13 year old little brother and while we have a similar sense of humour as we have grown up together we could not be more different.

I have an extra decade. A decade of more experience, a decade of more learning, a decade of more everything in general. I am an adult. He is a child. There’s no denying that.

The mentality that has always existed on Tumblr of “everybody’s the same age hahaha everybody can be treated the same” is, therefore, the biggest load of fucking rubbish I’ve ever seen. This inevitably leads to children being harassed by grown adults every day. Constantly.

Imagine being a 14 year old child and waking up one morning to find that a grown adult had reblogged one of your posts making fun of you, leading dozens of other grown adults to send you messages making fun of you further.

Imagine being a child just trying to have fun on a social blogging platform and then self-entitled, wilfully ignorant and aggressive adults suddenly began insulting you for absolutely no reason.

I’m not saying a child can’t make a mistake. But that’s what it is most of the time- a mistake- and maybe you should stop treating children who make mistakes as though they’re intentionally malicious adults. In doing so, you generally become an intentionally malicious adult.

If you’re an adult and you look at somebody’s About section and see “oh 14 okay that’s not too young for me to tell this person they’re trash” and you don’t see how that’s inherently fucked up and see no need to apologise for it: I hate you, I thoroughly and completely hate you regardless of the quality of the rest of your character, I think you need to get a grip, a life and away from me