That's - Blog Posts
It’s happening. I no longer crave a random purchase of Furbies and manga that’ll never end.
I want to buy hoodies and travel cups and purses.
It’s happening. I’m shopping responsibly.
Who’s to say The Last Dragonborn can’t be a lost descendant of Martin Septim? Martin admits to being a part of the Sanguine cult before becoming a priest of Akatosh. We all know what the Sanguine Cult can get up to. Parties. Drugs. Sex.
There could be an entire family of Dragonborns descended from one of Martin’s potentially many one night stands, and none of them even knew! So when someone tells me they headcanon that their Last Dragonborn character is a lost descendant of Martin, I say, “heck yeah, makes sense to me!”
Fight and try to get whatever you want till you got it no one left only peace left #ye #love #math #blessed #glory #faith #thats #me #3 #og #musically #vip #box #news #space #love #sign #7days #sound #dont #key #me #kanyewest #standing #hot #that #try #me #fuck #skepta #😊
because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
Being a hopeless romantic and independent at the same time is hard. It's like you're dying to receive love. Everything you see in this world is love. You have crushes and all but when someone shows a least bit of affection towards you, you disappear from there. Like you could love yourself better than them. And it's not because you hate love but because you're hopelessly romantic and your standards are hard to meet and you're better of your own.
there are two competing sects on this website - one that uses the word "spicy" to mean "neurodivergent" and one that uses the word "spicy" to mean "sexual content." i do not like either of them
Here's what I have drawn for my art class to day....
It's graded assignment................
10 Questions Meme
I was tagged by unluckyycat. (And I'm terribly flattered. Thank you!)
rule 1: always post the rules rule 2: answer the questions from the person who tagged you rule 3: tag 10 people and link them in your post rule 4: let them know you’ve tagged them
1. What names did you like growing up that you wish you could have changed yours to?
Ahah, well. As a child I didn't covet other people's names so much as furtively dislike my own. Still, when I was very little my mother found me out and decided the best course of action was to rechristen me "Stinky Mud" and only call me that until I admitted that my birth name wasn't so bad after all... Anyway, once I was twelve and could brave the possibility of it happening again (it didn't) I've been going by Jack.
2. What’s your favourite shirt look like?
Mind if I give you the top two? I'm torn between them. (It feels like there's some kind of awful fabric pun in there somewhere, but I'll spare us - this time.)
3. How do you take your hot beverage of choice?
Coffee. That's my choice hot beverage, and I take it with sweetened condensed milk and a touch of vanilla. That, or with two sugar cubes and a splash of cream. 4. Any scars with cool stories you’d care to share?
Oh, there are a few - I'm prone to minor accidents. Lately my favorites are these, though:
That's what happens when you carelessly scrape chopped vegetables from your cutting board into a skillet full of overheated oil. In uprolled sleeves.
5. What’s the best bad decision you’ve ever made?
This one's been boggling my mind since I first read it through, and I think it's because I ultimately can't regard a decision as having been a bad one if it produced a good result. But I've got it now:
One morning on the bus to my high school I was pressed against the window listening to Joy Division on my CD player, when I heard a voice I didn't recognize cutting through the music. Worse, no matter how high I turned the volume, or how hard I crushed the earphones up against my ears, I couldn't come close to drowning her out. Usually, this early, everyone on the bus was half-asleep - but I could hear every word out of this girl's mouth with infuriating clarity. By the time we hit the schoolyard I was livid. So when I noticed my friend Ringo kicking his heels outside around the back of the bus I marched myself right up to the toes of his boots and launched into a tirade, complete with a mocking imitation of what I considered to be one of the more ridiculous parts of her overheard conversation - something to do with her boyfriend incorrectly registering on her caller ID as "Robert Smith", and it being fate because she was such a fan of The Cure. I think I was positively snorting with derision at this point. (As you might have gathered by now, sophomore carletoncolton was a bit of an ass.) And that's when Ringo cut in, "That's my girlfriend".
Haha... honestly, I don't remember how I didn't faint after that what with all the blood draining out of my face. The upshot of it all is, that when Ringo told the girlfriend in question what I'd said she only laughed. We're BFFLs now. 6. Do you remember most of your dreams when you wake up?
For the most part, no, I don't - unless they're either so mundane that I worry for the health of my imagination, or so strange that I'm convinced someone else must've dreamed them.
Example of the former: I have a recurring dream where all that happens is that I wake up in my S.O.'s house, don a pair of my politer, more presentable pajamas, and sit down to a meal at the counter bar or the dining room table. I eat it alone, in silence, with an especially small fork, and then pack my dishes away in the dishwasher when I've finished. That's it, really. I have noticed, though, that if it's after dark in the dream then everyone else is asleep, the cat included, the windows closed and all the blinds shuttered, with only the light over the kitchen sink on. And if it's light out, then all the windows and doors are open, the sun is scorching and almost too bright, and the house is empty. Excepting me and the cat, of course.
Example of the latter: About a week ago I had an unsettlingly detailed dream in which my seventeen-year-old brother, a very technical person with an eye for coding and computer hardware assembly, helped me into a full military-grade black stealth camouflage suit complete with mask and night-vision goggles. Think Splinter Cell, Metal Gear, that sort of thing. He handled all the closures and straps on the back of the suit and I the ones in front. It was dark outside, and we were standing in my old bedroom at my great-grandfather's house as it looked before I moved in - unfurnished, with pastel pink and blue wallpaper. We were crowded near the small open widow; the neighbor's security spotlight, bolted over their garage door, filtered through the chain link fence and gave the whole scene a harsh yellow quality. My brother and I didn't speak, but stared unblinkingly at each other, faces neutral. Our entire family has nearly identical dark brown eyes and I remember being uncomfortably aware of the similarity just then. The whole thing had a hushed, anticipatory quality about it... but the oddest part was that we both knew we were doing this so I could sneak through the window and pick blackberries from the field across the street before the sun came up. In the (real) morning I rolled out of bed bewildered and craving them. 7. What are you hoping happens this week for you?
It'd be everything if I got a response out of any, really any, of the job applications I've sent out recently. Or ever. 8. What’s the biggest, most exciting travel destination of your dreams?
My family has never been more than a lost paycheck or two away from eviction, between evictions, so we haven't ever traveled other than to visit relatives - and that was with help. I've been resigned to things remaining the same way for me all my life for years now. So... I haven't got one. Still, I would like to go back to southern Georgia someday. To visit. I can't say that I enjoyed living there; as a mixed-race asexual atheist it could be distinctly unpleasant, even if only the first and last of those descriptors were obvious to the people around me. The place itself, though... sometimes I have dreams about kneeling outside in the knee-high grass at night, curling my fingers into the red soil, or lying on my roof in the summer until the searing heat of the sun overhead permeates my body to the bone and I see the veins illuminated in my closed eyelids. I'm always cold on some level, in Michigan. 9. How many songs are on your MP3 player of choice? Do you listen to them all?
I could tell you exactly if I hadn't lost it like the bumbler I am, haha. My YouTube favorites playlist, though, has one hundred and sixty-five songs on it, all of which I do listen to. Add my other, artist-specific lists (Lana Del Rey, Blur, Gorillaz, Damon Albarn, Massive Attack, etc.), and that number goes up to three hundred and nine. Less than I'd have thought, actually. 10. Any tattoos? Any plans for more/your first one?
No, and no. Well. There aren't any concrete plans.
Aaaaand done! *pats brow* Whew. Call me a poor sport, but this time 'round I won't be writing any new questions or tagging anyone - the way I write, if I ever wanted to get this thing posted sacrifices had to be made. (;¬_¬) That, and I've already tagged just about everyone I think'd tolerate me asking once before.
I made this for the trend that passed this weekend! I really just love the silly long choo choo show alright? And I think I’m finally sticking with an artstyle? I’m gonna go insane about it!! Get ready 😈
What did I just read...
One time I was hooking up with this guy and he wanted to try handcuff play, I was like sure I’ve never done it why not. so we are doing stuff and I’m handcuffed and then he stops, and just kinda looks at me. he then gets his keys and uncuffs me and I ask him what’s wrong. He tells me I’m too pretty to die and then tells me to get out of his house and then blocks me and I’m still kinda freaked out about it years later
