it's sometimes just one

sometimes adulthood is an exhausting, never-ending list of stuff to do

and sometimes adulthood is buying yourself a fancy cheese at the grocery store and eating it alone in your apartment while listening to Lana Del Rey

Listen I’m bi as Heck and as much as I love girls, I also love boys? Boys are amazing and pure and liking boys is a wonderful feeling? I never see a lot of posts talking about cute boys so

Some Boy Aesthetics™ I’m in love with include:

Their tired grins? Have you seen a cute boy grin when he’s tired? Life Changing

Sleeves rolled up to forearms is all good and Well but also when they have Sweater Paws in their hoodies or jumpers? Makes the tallest of them seem so smol? I’m lov?

When they run their hand through their hair and it sticks up in places and it looks So Good

Collar Bones

Soft pudgy stomachs they absolutely make me melt

When ya boy gets flustered A++ Bonus points if he giggles Boys giggling is Everything

I think that one of my favorite things as a kid was right after a powwow my ma and I decided to go with her then fiance to an ice cream shop with some of our regalia and leathers still on. Out of nowhere a little girl comes out, points and yells:

“LOOK MOMMY! INDIANS!”

My ma without missing a beat turned around, pointed at her and screamed, “LOOK JEFF! A WHITE GIRL!”

And I think about that moment a lot.

Different kinds of fandom welcomes
  • Type 1: I am damaged. Far too damaged. But. You're not beyond repair
  • Type 2: NO SLEEP TONIGHT FOR YOU BETTER CHUG THAT MOUNTAIN DEW
slavic languages gothic

You see a sentence written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.

You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.

There is a sentence in Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.

You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.

P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.

The Croatian sentence does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.

That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence.
Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.

Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.

You see a word in a dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in your sleep. You wake up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.

This word means the same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language. The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.

H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.

One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.

You write my name is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right letters.

N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?

There are nine different prefixes you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape of one of its middle consonants. You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth. You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.

You now read a text in Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes, the meaning searing your mind.

There’s a shot of vodka in front of you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.

10

Don’t forget Gorillaz fans, Jamie Hewlett exist! He made all you’re favorite band members come to life in the music videos, shorts, ect! He continues drawing them countless times and works day and night to give you new content with the band members! So please appreciate him!!! ❤❤❤

  • fanfic writer: *writing* Oh wow, they are going to love this. This is by far my best work!
  • fic: *witty lines* *perfect love making* *fluffy enough to kill us all* *a dash of angst, a smidgen of hurt/comfort*
  • fanfic writer: Oh man. This is it. This will be my legacy! *sweats into fic* *bleeds into fic* *cries into fic* *spends days perfecting the grammar and verbage and sex scenes* *has 15 betas look over it*
  • fanfic writer: Okay. It is finally time to release my baby on the world. Here you go fandom. You're welcome.
  • fandom: Ha, cute. *like* *kudos*
  • fanfic writer: :/
  • * * *
  • same fanfic writer: *writing* Whatever. This is shit, I don't even care right now. A singing squirrel? Sure, let's do it. Haha, cheesy lines that make no sense, sure. Grammatical errors out the wazoo? Why not. No one's going to read this piece of crap anyway, I literally wrote it on a scrap of 1 ply toilet paper with a broken yellow crayon.
  • fanfic writer: LOL *post*
  • fandom: OMG THIS IS THE BEST THING YOU HAVE EVER GRANTED US WITH, WHERE HAS THIS BEEN ALL MY LIFE, OMG, I NEED A SEQUEL IMMEDIATELY, PLEASE. WHAT THE. I'M NOT EVEN WORTHY. *kudosrebloglikereccomment*
  • fanfic writer: *sigh*
Ravenclaw Headcanon

Ravenclaws are known for their extremely dry humor, and they are almost always the ones that crack the extremely sarcastic jokes and everyone around them stops and stares at them for a moment to try and figure out if they were serious or not.

sketch of some sort (๑ↀᆺↀ๑)

Royalty AU - Crown Princess Marinette of the Dupain-Cheng Twin Kingdoms

Read the fic here

(Adrien, Alya, Nino, Chloé, Sabrina, Juleka, Rose, Nathaniel, Alix, Kim) (other classmates coming soon)

i’m sure you can only grow these in the bae area though

9

hinata and iwaizumi decide to pull a prank on oikawa while he’s still sleeping when they’re away on a camping trip

based on this post!

The first and last words of each song on 1989.
  • Welcome To New York: walking through york
  • Blank Space: nice name
  • Style: midnight style
  • Out of the Woods: looking good
  • All You Had to Do Was Stay: people stay
  • Shake It Off: I shake
  • I Wish You Would: it's back around
  • Bad Blood: 'cause hey
  • Wildest Dreams: he said pretend
  • How You Get the Girl: stand the girl
  • This Love: clear to me
  • I Know Places: you stand with me
  • Clean: the drought was clean
  • Wonderland: flashing in wonderland
  • You Are In Love: one love
  • New Romantics: we're free