Just Listen Until The End, Ok?

A Being of Grand Design

I wear a dress made of stars, galaxies swirling along the bodice, nebulae lining the fringe. i am made of every life ever lived and every soul that ever will be. 

My skin is covered in words. Every poem, every novel, every classic i’ve ever read. Words melding together and covering my skin in ink. 50 thousand fonts and letters melding together in a grotesque mockery of a tattoo. My favorites excerpts are printed in bloody red.

Every breath I breath in is made of stories. Novels, plays, movies, ballet, tv shows, opera, music, art. It fills my veins and fuels my body. Carrying thoughts and dreams as they make my muscles move.

My hair is thousands of memories strung together. Ever moment filled with emotion. Sadness drowns me as Rage burns bright. Love floats me to the highest clouds as happiness brings me down to earth where I can dig my toes in fresh soil.

Seas of tears fill my eyes. Every one I’ve ever shed and every one I haven’t. Just because something isn’t real doesn’t mean I can’t scream for it. Tear filled wails shake my body as I sob for lives never lived and souls reaped to soon. Dreams drown as I cry for every person alive and those already in the grave and those who will be and those only found within stories.

My heart pumps ink through my veins. Never replacing blood  but trying to take a humanity to whom it’s claim had always been staked. The ghostly hands of authors long dead and characters fated to be, caress my bones as I crawl to my grave of pages.

I start as a film reel replaces my brain. Love and Loss and Pain and Worship not mine control me like a marionette. Every emotion from this earth and beyond dig their claws into the inside of my skull as ideas framed as people recite lines lost to time.

I cut my arms open with a sharp shard of glass. I spill blood red as dusk as I don every bad thought, every bad day , every tragedy and heartbreak, every scream and fear fraught day my family has ever had. I soak them in my ink streaked blood and make every familial woe mine. I wear boots made of death and tights of betrayal. My shawl is of fear and my belt made of financial doubt. I wear a headband of hate and bangles of loss as prejudice is smeared around my lips like lipstick.

They ask me what it’s like to be a writer.

I say it’s like turning yourself into fates marionette as you become Frankenstein’s monster.

aesthetic:

ancient universities, dark or dead flowers, aging books, handwritten letters and messy journal entries, heartfelt poetry, sentimentality, melancholy piano or cello, sweaters, coffee, old libraries, ivy on brick walls, Augustine prayers, holding hands, walking by the water on a gloomy day while the wind blows through your hair, studying by lamplight, lighting candles, getting lost in the woods, soft music playing in a sunlit room, tea cups, plants that can thrive on little sunlight, rainy days, cuddling peacefully while a storm rages outside, a leather bound Bible that’s falling apart, learning Greek or Latin and reading Shakespeare for pleasure, laying on the ground in the sun and staring at the sky, coffeehouse and book store dates, sincere and passionate love, believing vulnerability is strength, being kind because ‘you never meet a mere mortal,’ feeling everything, an awareness of the supernatural, walking wistfully through long dark halls, an unassuming but enduring faith in something bigger, book shelves and sculptures and paintings, reading out loud while your lover lays their head in your lap, star gazing, leather analog watches, dramatic expressions of love, preferring intimate one-on-ones over coffee to big and loud parties, a fine glass of wine, quoting those long dead, having a thing for intellectuals and Europeans, a subtle wanderlust under being content at home with a book and a cup of tea, longing to wander Scottish castles and moors, wishing you had an accent, the haunting sound of monks singing in cathedrals, knowing you’d do anything to let your loved ones know you love them and just how deeply you do

Among other things, Howl’s Moving Castle provides AMAZING representation for the girlies who take too long in the bathroom. Like, what do you mean 30 minutes is a long shower? Mr. Howl Jenkins Pendragon spends a MINIMUM of 2 hours a day in the bathroom getting ready. You can’t rush beauty fr

feeling very normal about atsushi wearing rashomon. very normal

Pics from my Twitter, continuation of the 'invitation for a fun night' pics 🙂🙃

I will not upload much here of this 'comic' for obvious reasons 😆

Eddie, posting to Tiktok at three in the morning: I think it’s perfectly okay if you’re a restless sleeper or you sleepwalk. That’s fine. I just think you should have goals…that’s not leaving my house.

Eddie: That makes it sound like I kidnapped someone. I didn’t. It’s just… My husband has been walking around in a circle for the last fifteen minutes

Eddie: And I want to go to bed but I can’t until he does because he has this bad habit of escaping and ending up at a hospital…or the woods.

Eddie: And yeah, I’m glad he’s not trying to break my ribs or- *flinches in surprise when a hand is suddenly shoved in front of his face*

Eddie, eyes flickering off screen: …yes?

Steve, after a long pause: Six dollar

Eddie, who adores sleeptalking Steve: For what?

Steve: Book fair

Eddie: …I have never wanted to live in your brain more than I do right now.

Chuuya : I fucking love you, dazai.

Dazai :

Chuuya : *flustered* F-fuck, I meant loathe. I hate you. VEry much. Fuck me- yOU. Fuck You. I meant loathe. I fucking loathe you.

Chuuya :

Dazai :

Kaji : *jumps out of nearby bush* HE MEANT "LOVE".

Dazai, smugly : You meant "love".

Chuuya : *defeated* I meant "love".

Ok, but picture this, a bisexual Eddie and a gay Steve who's still working out his sexuality. Eddie is trying his best to make Steve feel better but he just isn't getting it.

Eddie: You can like girls and boys Stevie it's ok it's what I am and you don't think any differently of me right?

Steve: No, no, no Eddie you're not getting it. I don't feel anything when all those girls.

Eddie: But you went out with so many girls! You loved Nancy! You told Robin you had a crush on her while very high!

Steve: But I didn't feel anything when Nancy kissed me! And I just thought if I found the right girl it would be ok and my parents would be happy and I'd get married and everyone would be happy!

Eddie: Maybe your asexual! You can still love them and not want to sleep with them! You could still marry a nice girl!

Steve frustrated with his feelings reaches out and pulls Eddie into a kiss. Eddie kisses back and eventually they pull away.

Steve: So that's what it's supposed to feel like.

Eddie: Maybe you're gay.

THIS TOO SHALL PASS