About Time For A New One Of These…one That Has A Proper Explanation Of Where I Am, And How Things Are

i saw this and i had shivers so I liked it and then I saw it again and still had shivers so now it deserves a reblog this is golden

we survived because we were the “smartest” species you say, we survived because jellyfish don’t know how to construct a Fighter Jet. We survived because our environment is ours to manipulate with walls and floors and lightbulbs to capture the sun and tunnel into night.

we survived by being faster in our cars and stronger with our tools, and better than we were before. We survived with language to build on the past with and weapons to fight the future. We survived because of our hands and our heads and the fact we make the universe itself knowable.

But then again, a mother will gain the strength of ten men to lift a full car off her baby. A man will spend eight hours nursing a puppy back to health and that dog will follow his every step from the doorstop to the grave. A best friend will dropkick an alligator in the water for the sake of him.

And I’ll tell you, maybe it was all of it. And maybe it was because we loved each other better than we hated, we loved each other in the dark before the lightbulb and loved each other more in the wilds before our walls, and we loved each other so thoroughly we made pyramids and libraries and monuments, and wrote not for the sake of money and food and living, but for the sake of wrapping each others hearts in velvet soft to escape the sandpaper winds of this world.

And that too is survival. That too is a reason. Not for our brains or our hands or our grit, but for our willingness to wrap each others wounds in bandages and set the broken bones of grandparents and sit outside windows and sing lullabies and love songs and cry over butterflies and sunsets and care too deeply. Care too strongly. Care too much.

That too is survival.

the intimacy of liking a mutual’s post. i hope you see my stupid little icon and feel seen. i love you. i appreciate you. do you want to run away with me. i’m here for you. let’s swordfight. i’m never going to give you up.

Agata

“Sleep tight, my flower.” Mama tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. With a soft and gentle smile, she rested a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you when the sun rises.” Agata blinked. One hand roughly rubbed at her eyes - while the other flashed as they wrapped around Mama’s wrist.  “Wait,” Agata stifled a yawn. “’m not sleepy. I want to play.” Mama’s chuckles sent warm reverberations through her bones. “Darkness is no place for a little flower to play.” Mama gently pinched her cheek, then tapped her nose. “Sleep. The sun will give us light in the morning.” Agata frowned, her eyebrows furrowing. Yet Mama would not be deterred - and the battle was lost when her mother began to sing.

“Mama!”  The Child clung desperately onto a pillar. The ground shook and shook and shook. People were screaming as they pushed past each other and stepped on each other. All of them, running away from- With a short cry, Agata was knocked onto her back. The ground shook and the feet that were going to trample her were monsters that hid in the dark. For every attempt she tried at standing, there were five monsters that knocked her back down. The rumbling beneath her exploded.

“Agata?” The Child blinked. Gone was the flaming city. Gone were the monsters. Yet gone, too, was her Mama. But...not for long. She tilted her head back, meeting the warm worried gaze of The King. He who tilted his head down at her. “Such a sorrowful face for someone so young,” Hades murmured.  Agata glanced away at that. The hand that was not held pushing stray strands of hair out of her eyes. She blinked as The King pulled her into a stop. Hades knelt down until they were eye-level with one another; until their eyes locked their gazes. She stilled, perfectly replicating a statue, as The King tucked the strands of hair behind her ears. Hades tilted his head at her again. Smiled then - a warm sight that spoke of promising safety and protection. Agata shifted her feet - though not out of discomfort. The act was more of a giddy, excited dance. The King straightened and they were soon on their way. The Underworld - Agata had only heard stories of it, and not many as Mama always thought they were too scary. But here, walking side by side with its’ King, The Child found that The Underworld was not too terrifying to be in. “We’ll find my Mama soon, right?” she asked, glancing up. Hades merely hummed a response - his voice sending reverberations through her bones. “Soon,” he said, glancing down with a smile. “I promise.

No that’s Ginger. Gender is the machine with the spinning blades that you use to make smoothies

no that’s gengar. gender is a game of skill that involves balancing wooden blocks

I made a spicy meme for you all

WHY was I CALLED OUT in SUCH A MANNER, I-

Oh, by the way, for context;

This is NK

People writing about any sort of nonhuman character

Writing Prompt #3

‘You have 10 days to live.’

Mortality is a dark subject to dwell on.

We don’t often think about what happens when we die, after it, about the death itself. Often times, we go through our daily lives without even being reminded that we are such fragile things.

I lived that kind of life; a life where I went by the days with a kind of reckless, careless freedom.

Perhaps you could call me ignorant, or oblivious. All living creatures die, but with the way I had lived you would’ve guessed I was chasing death.

I wasn’t. I had no intention of dying. I wanted to live. To live without regret, to look back and to say ‘I’m happy with the way I lived’.

That sentence ran through my head when I learned I had 10 days to live. A measly 10 days - barely more than a week - was all that my goodwill had earned.

Yet amidst the raging thoughts one would usually experience when faced with their own mortality, there was one clear sentence. Found beneath the piles of fear, of anger, of ‘why me?’, there it was, clear as day.

‘I’m happy with the way I lived.’

And I was.

Truly, genuinely happy.

After I realised it, it was easier for me to accept my fate. At least, as easy as it can be.

Those around me took longer; longer nights spent holding them while they cried, longer hours spent pounding away at locked doors because I cannot stand not seeing them again before I left.

I didn’t even tell most people. Those who had been with me for years and years, defended me from all sorts of monsters, and yet I kept this secret from them.

I wished I had enough time to tell them, to be able to tell them and be there to reassure them. But I barely had time to comfort the ones closest to me, and to convince them to accompany me on my plan.

My last journey.

I only had a few days left, after spending them on clearing all my extra affairs. It was then that I realised I had been lucky, in a sick and twisted way.

At the very least, I knew enough to plan for it.

After all affairs had been settled, we packed our bags into our car and went on a road trip. We called out buildings, sighs, horses, cows, fields, mountains, lakes, parks, people. We stopped and ate at the most questionable diner I had ever stepped into - and that was truly saying something, as I’d walked into multiple questionable diners.

We traveled and slept and talked. After a while on the road, I’d noticed that the others had began to relax slightly, to enjoy this final journey I’d planned, to live in the moment with someone without many moments left.

I was glad they did. It made the journey easier for me.

After all that traveling, we’d finally arrive at our destination. 

A long bridge, suspended high above a river valley. From the centre, a single piece of cord.

It had been unanimous that I were to go first. The man in charge fixed a harness around my torso, gave the cord a few more experimental tugs, then nodded an affirmative in my direction.

I took in a deep breath, then I jumped.

After it, my friends had applauded me on my bravery. They called me reckless, as always. I smiled cheekily in return, as I’ve always done.

And then we went home.

Bungee jumping had been the last thing on my bucket list. My last hurrah to the life I’d lived before I learned the news.

I was happy, but oh I wished I’d lived longer. Of course I would. I had plans that went on for years, dreams that plummeted like a deflated balloon.

But I dealt with the hand I was given, and while it was truly a shit hand, I was satisfied enough.

9 and 3/4 days after the news, I climbed to the roof of my apartment. The stars still peeked out beneath the ever-brightening sunrise sky, and I had wanted to see them one more time.

One last time.

Despite how dark the subject of mortality can be, Death always came on time.

And I was ready for it.

yes

Queer and scared of goin’ homeless

I’m getting kicked out of my place. Head is pounding over this. But it is what it is.

This was sudden as fuck and it’s crushing close to the holidays, and difficult as fuck to find a new place with COVID-19 and all that.

I’m frantically looking at some rooms for rent in town. But costs are up and I’m doing what I can. I’m selling a few of my more expensive possessions to scrape up some cash for the move-out but the new places I’m looking at cost a lot more than I can handle right now..

So I really need all the help I can get, to scrape together at least $1,100 before the deadline in January. The sooner I move the better.

My Ko-Fi is here if you would be so kind as to give your buddy Sin a hand. I hate asking for money at a time like this but I really don’t know what else to do here.

Please boost if you can. Every bit helps. Even a dollar. Please please please.

Thank you so much for reading

if anyone wanted to ask me why I like writing, I’d say that the people in my head need to be free. Because they do. Once I die, I’ll bring all the thoughts I ever had with me and none of you will know - none of you will be able to know what thoughts I had when I was alive. And I have worlds and communities and cultures inside my head and I don’t want to bring them down with me, I don’t want to be the only person who ever walked the streets or talked to the people or danced the cultures. The worlds I make may be filled with people - but they’re all me, and the streets are lonely. I guess I’d mostly say it’s because I want to share. I want to share the worlds, the lands, the realms I make. I want to share the stories I’ve told to myself so many times.  I want to put my mark - however small - so that when I do inevitably die, I won’t bring this world I made down with me. I don’t want to walk the streets alone anymore.