bookburnt - Tumblr blog

[bookburnt]

        gerry is a peanut butter pill pocket for people attracted to emotionally unavailable men.  you think he’s aloof and safely unattainable but by the time you realize his seemingly cool demeanor is merely him being socially awkward as fuck and underneath that he’s actually very emotionally intelligent and completely willing to devote himself to you, it will be too late.  you will have already fallen for his weird goth charms.

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ind. semi-sel. oc-focused multimuse. catalogued by swid.

featuring Lip Hennessy, an urban-fantasy-based dancer OC. #WRITEDISASTER.

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        in my verse where gerry survives & settles down long enough to have a flat of his own, literally an entire wall (plus some surface area of the neighboring walls) is covered in maps, news clippings, surveillance photos (with any images of eyes obliterated), colored thumbtacks and bits of string.  he uses it to keep track of various movements & phenomena, but from the outside, it’s a purely overwhelming amount of information - it looks less like a bulletin board and more like an utterly deranged decoupage project.

        he calls it the Wall of Doom but he’s also so used to it being a part of his daily existence that he straight up forgets about it until he brings someone over to his flat, catches them staring at his completely bonkers information-hoard decor, and has to remember all over again that hmm yeah that’s not normal is it.

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gertrude, your assistant looks gnc af

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cursed fact?  when gerry texts, he uses smileys with noses, but not eyes.  he’ll literally just send you ^) and you have to deal with that.

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effortless gothic androgyny in the grocery store

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just thinking about g.erry and m.artin getting married, realizing neither of them actually like their last names, and instead of either of them taking the other’s last name or hyphenating they just choose a word from the dictionary at random and both change their last names to that instead.  we don’t know who ““ger*** k**y”” is, it is only g.erry sauerkraut and his husband, m.artin sauerkraut

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        there are a lot of things gerry never learned, never had time to fit in around the other educations that dominated his life.  he has never learned how or when to fill an awkward silence, never learned the kinds of questions and answers that pave the road from strangers to friends, never learned what it is you do with your hands when someone touches you.

        he has also never learned the paramount virtue of not making a scene.  there’s no sense of politeness anywhere in his skull that keeps him from looking up at a cafe and flatly saying “you wanna shut the fuck up” when some pisspole’s making life hell for the barista.  no ingrained social silence that keeps him from informing creeps on the tube that no, really, she doesn’t want to talk to you, and maybe you should get off at the next stop.

        it’s occasionally gotten other people convinced that they’d like to beef with him, but they usually change their minds about that pretty quickly when he takes a step closer.

just thinking about gerry using his complete lack of normal socialization as a force for good

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just thinking about gerry using his complete lack of normal socialization as a force for good

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Will Wood: the Normal Album Sentence Starters

lines taken from the 2020 album.  edit as desired.  tw: violence, disordered eating, gender dysphoria, mental illness, substance abuse, suicidal ideation, death

01.  Suburbia Overture: Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally

“Trick or treat.  Merry Christmas.”

“Howdy neighbor!”

“Thank you Jesus!”

“It don’t look like survival, but buy now or die.”

“You’re not alone.”

“The lights are on, but no one’s home.”

“Takes a village to fake a whole culture.”

“Home is where the heart is- You ain’t homeless, but you’re heartless.”

“It’s the safest on the market.”

“You still gotta watch where you park it.”

“Give me your half-life crisis.”

“I can tell that you know where paradise is.”

“Parasites don’t care what your blood type is.”

“A snowflake only matters in a blizzard.”

“Everyone knows that nobody knows that.”

“Well, word gets around on hit number stations.”

“Smile and wave, boys, kiss the cook, live laugh and love, please pass the pills.”

“It’s only culture.  It’s only culture.  It’s only culture.”

“Didn’t they want your blood?”

“Hey, fuck your culture.”

“Do you know the difference between blazing trails and slash-and-burn?”

“Hey, you’re only mortal.”

Keep reading

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        It shouldn’t come as a surprise that she doesn’t recognize him.  He knows she had enough difficulty putting it together the last time they'd seen each other, and now he's... difficult to recognize.  He’s lost some weight, after all.  Lost some weight, gotten a wig, been covered in tattoos, and died.  Not necessarily in that order.  But–

        But it stings to realize she’s afraid of him.  He stops in his tracks, as if approaching a spooked animal.  Does he reintroduce himself?  Call her by name?  He wants to.  He doesn’t want to be unknown to her.  But there’s something selfish in that desire.  What good would it do Leah to know it’s him?  Was him.

        “Just wanted to ask if I could bum a cigarette,”  he says by way of self-explanation, jerking his chin towards the smoke in her hand.  “Sorry.”

@bookburnt // revenant starter.

Every cell unnaturally hers sparked to life at the other’s approach, slithering steadily through veins and sinew until every synapse was awake. The world slowed, a momentary relief so she could better assess the situation. Looking at the figure, Leah could forgive herself the knee-jerk though that she was staring down the Stranger on earth.

Their kind did not singe her body like this, however. This stranger’s influence hummed at the same pitch of her body, the grinding, twining song of fight it, fly from it, or embrace it. Even so, her whole body urged her to only the first of these options, telling her everything was wrong in the most familiar way.

She had stopped breathing. It had never started, she noted, not really. The unusual spring chill colored her ears and nose, her breath dancing into the air, and though she saw an imitation of the motions in the other, she had not yet seen any evidence that this work had any effect on their lungs.

Dead, then. Dead, and yet, not the specters that so often flocked to her side. Twirling the cigarette nervously between her slender fingers, she stared up at the Institute windows.

“What are you,” she chattered softly, “the bouncer?”

Letting her eyes drift from the figure did nothing to ease the panic coursing throughout her. It did, however, allow her to play the nonchalant. Whether they were ally, enemy, or obstacle, she could know nothing without first engaging with them.

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muse aesthetics, tarot edition.  y’all probably know the drill by now.  bold what applies to your muse, italicize what sometimes or sort-of applies, strike through what’s antithetical to your muse.  repost, don’t reblog, and have fun!  tw: mentions of alcohol.

Major Arcana:  a long journey  -  a feeling of raw energy  -  putting a name to something unknown  -  an elaborate patchwork  -  unexpected catastrophes  -  unexpected blessings  -  vivid dreams  -  sudden awakenings  -  the feeling of shedding your skin  -  the echoes in holy places  -  bright lights  -  deep shadows  -   feeling the earth move beneath your feet  -  wandering in museums  -  the strange clarity of moonlight  -  thunder and lightning  -  an unfamiliar road  -  coming back to the place you started as an entirely different person  

Cups:  being overwhelmed by emotion  -  finding something to celebrate every day  -  finding something to mourn every day  -  connecting with others  -  the scent of ocean air  -  making food for your friends when they’re stressed  -  the remembrance of something lost  -  sublime confusion  -  cool colors  -  a cozy cafe  -  a bustling bar  -  calm waters, hidden depths  -  getting tipsy in the afternoon -  summer rain  -  comfy sweaters  -  flowing skirts  -  a house by the sea  -  deep conversations after midnight

Wands:  the scent of spices and dark wood  -  making something just for the sake of creation  -  dry heat  -  crackling fire  -  a bolt of inspiration  -  refusing to apologize for your passion  -  stubborn optimism  -  taking on more than you can handle  -  hot tea  -  warm colors  -  getting up early  -  staying up late  -  bright fire, fast burnout  -  tacky thrift store finds worn with the utmost confidence  -  the thrill of starting a new project  -  spring storms  -  hotel rooms  -  perpetual restlessness

Pentacles:  the scent of rich soil after a rain  -  hard and diligent work  -  solid ground, strong foundations  -  the satisfaction of a long-awaited payoff  -  generosity that comes with a catch -  work boots and heavy jeans  -  silk and jewels  -  resting on your laurels  -  seeing your work through to the end  -  harvest time  -  fresh bread and rich soup  -  earth tones  -  jewel tones  -  a lush garden  -  sunlight through the trees  -  dark chocolate  -  a home in the farmlands  -  a sprawling house in the old part of the city

Swords:  the scent of fresh air  -  focusing on the intellectual at the expense of the emotional  -  freshly fallen snow  -  burying yourself in action  -  tending to your own wounds  -  a foreseeable disaster  -  crisply tailored suits  -  starkly elegant dresses  -  refusing to admit defeat  -  cold air, clear thoughts  -  old hurts  -  fresh starts  -  overthinking your overthinking  -  the harsh glow of street lamps  -  black coffee  -  a cabin in the mountains  -  an apartment downtown  -  the quiet before the dawn

tagged by:  me. tagging:  @thehopcful, @acemenagerie (elias!), @aleximedicus, @fortunebuoyed (mordaunt!), @bringhelltoyourdoorstep, @skyaches (siri!), also anyone who wants to lmao

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Shoutout to the breakers of generational curses

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not me, listening to a metal cover of I Really Like You and thinking g.erry/m.artin thoughts again