kudos-si-do - Tumblr blog

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Am I allowed to reblog warriors here? I guess I am? I don't know how Tumblr works but LOOK UPON FALLENCLAN AND WEEP, FOR IT IS AMAZING

Cherrystar was going to elect Skyfrost (one of Poppy’s best friends), but changed her mind when Flamefall approached her and reminded her of the vision Feathersight had, of raven feathers. And after all, Ravenshade is such a loyal warrior, trying to save Poppyfeather’s life like that, he’ll make a great deputy, too.

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how terrible it is / to love something death can touch

Keep reading

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I voted bad even though I've never had it because marzipan is made with almond meal and that rips my soul from its foundations and smashes it upon the rocks. ...Just so I don't sound insane, I'm allergic to almonds.

HI. Im using you to solve the discourse. Anyone who picks the wrong option gets the guillotine

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"Growing Around Grief"

Lois Tonkin, 1996

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i think all quiet on the western front and the lord of the rings are in direct conversation with each other, as in theyre the retelling of the same war with one saying here’s what happened, we all died, and it did not matter at all and another going hush little boy, of course we won, of course your friends came back

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move along (or you might as well be dead)

they tell me: sooner or later, life is going to look like it did before. i don't think that's true. when i was ten, my dad promised me that we'd come back to a place that came to mean more to me than anywhere else in the world. he died before we had the chance. sometimes i look at the pictures, at the curves of roller coasters gleaming above lake erie, and i wonder if he knew that his cancer would kill him.

it's been a long road. the chemo they used to save me — to poison me just enough to only almost kill me — almost killed me again, more than a year after remission. neuropathy, they said. common with chemotherapy. especially common with how much you were treated with.

it doesn't matter, what they say now. i hit the ground headfirst from somewhere around eight feet up. i don't remember it. you're getting better, they say, but then they take another look at me and i'm placed back into the prison i've only ever been paroled out of for a few scant days, a few golden hours.

there's blue ice cream on my tongue. they don't sell this specific kind here. i laugh as i say it's a gel or a liquid, banned on airplanes. freedom, taken back. blue, blue, blue.

you tell me that my family isn't normal. i've been told all my life that every family is its own kind of mess, that my family wasn't any messier than anyone else's. that maybe we were lucky, getting the family we had. i believe only part of it now, but before you, i believed it completely. yes, it's true that humans are messy. we get our messes everywhere. but it isn't so normal for someone to throw away your possessions and laugh while you sob, scoff as you dig through the dumpster for pieces of your childhood you can never get back. or is it normal? am i making everything about myself again? am i being dramatic? i've been told that all my life — i'm too dramatic. i walk on three broken bones and i don't complain.

your family isn't normal either. someday i'll send hockey postcards to your father without an ounce of guilt. someday i'll look another member of your family in the eye and disagree, even though i was supposed to be agreeable, even though i promised i wouldn't do anything to make your life harder. smile, smile, smile, i told myself. be at your best. don't let your cracks show through.

my dad was supposed to teach me to drive, to threaten my significant others, to walk me down the aisle. all my friend was supposed to do was grow up. she'd be an adult now. her birthday was last month. the sixteenth anniversary of her death was a less than three weeks ago. she's dead, frozen in time as a kid with a feeding tube up her nose and a bucket hat on her head, always pink or purple. i remember thinking that she was the bravest person i'd ever known. my dad was brave, too. does bravery always beget bravery?

i'm going to die. one day, if not today. if not tomorrow. if not next week, next month, next year. i'm trapped in the same few hundred square feet as i'm always trapped in. you're late by an hour to pick me up from the airport. i think i should be annoyed about it, but i only shake my head. i wonder what adventure your adhd has taken you on. when i hug you, there's relief in the action. i'm tired. my head is spinning. i'm not quite there, not quite right, but i want to be. i'm a little bit trapped in my mind, i think. am i being dramatic? later, i'll hit my head lightly on a support column in the barn while you're trying to teach me to dance. it will bruise, just barely, but enough to betray me. i'll have bad migraines for days, and i'll be too scared to talk about it. i find the fucked up basement we joked about and i make sure you see it.

i don't touch people much. most days, i don't like to be touched. i remember that my dad's hugs felt like the safest place on earth. i wonder if there's anything left of him below the ground, eighteen years later, or if it's all just bone. i've lived much longer without him than with him. i try to project safety through my arms and hope that's enough. or at least something. anything. i can touch people i'm comfortable with, most of the time. every time i thought you looked sad, i did my best. i swung my arm around your shoulders. shook your arm. made a face. i hope it made a difference. i know it was hard, being where you were, doing what you did. i hope you knew that i was proud of you.

i'm scared, but i'm not allowed to be. i fight with my brain, frustration growing. i watch your family with suspicion, with disapproval that they might or might not have earned. i try to be friendly, project myself in a way that makes me enjoyable to the people around me. i'm not that person, not really, not always. one of my friends says i'm much different in person than i am otherwise. is that true? who am i, really? am i someone who can be seen, whose flaws can be pushed away enough to only show the light? when i looked at them, who did they see looking back?

it was odd, hearing my name with a different sound to it. everyone used the same pronouns, but not the ones i'm used to hearing. it's funny, i think. gender means nothing to me, but at home, i hear a different set of pronouns. sometimes i wonder what it would be like, but i don't dwell. it wouldn't be dangerous, i don't think, not in the way a lot of queer folk are in danger, but it would bring more harshness and hardness to my life than i think i can currently bear. i wonder if you think that i'm a coward. am i a coward?

i'm in bed again. you were supposed to be here this week. i watch the plans sift out of my hands like sand. the pressure in my chest is enormous. it hurts to breathe, sometimes. my head is tangled up. they think i'm having seizures. i'm spending more time inside the hospital than i have in a long time. it curls in my chest like fire against bare skin, but i have to bear it. you're lucky, they tell me. it can always be worse. can't it?

i was raised by a religious mother and a non-religious father. once he was gone, there was nothing left to protect me from it. i spent years entrenched in it. i remember one of my teachers bragging that they didn't take money from the government so that they weren't beholden to their requirements. they didn't have to hire the gays, she said. i remember how one of my bible instructors told me to keep my mouth shut. i had too many questions. i ruined too much. the only time i blatantly cheated, it was on a test to name the chapters of the bible. i was caught and suspended. the teacher looked at me like i was scum the rest of my time at that school. am i fake, made of plastic and metal? am i real, flesh and bone and sinew? pulling out of that hate has taken a decade, and i'm still not done.

i stand amongst the protesters, those early months of the pandemic. i wonder, even then, if it will make a difference. years later, my cousin hangs a wooden flag with a blue stripe above her door. i burn underneath my skin. i say nothing.

i found the churro ice cream in the freezer section with a "new!" label around the plastic tamper shield. i bought both of the pints that they had and put them in the freezer. i got a pint of half baked, too. i prefer phish food, myself. i look up the closest scoop store and wonder what it would take to get there. i don't touch any of the pints.

i'm not allowed to drive. my car sits, unused. i rankle as i pace the same endless walls. i trip on nothing. i sit back down, mutinous. i haven't been kind to the breaks in my pelvis and femur. they twinge from the cold, or from overuse, or from both. i remember walking around the oncology floor years ago, spurred by the sheer amount of steroids i was on to offset the effects of the difficult rounds of chemo. there was no leaving, nothing but the same floor and the same walls and the same enlarged pictures of flowers. i got paranoid enough to think that they were watching me. in some ways, i think they're still watching me.

there aren't any flowers in my room. i don't like to see them, outside of in nature, but sometimes i understand the desire to receive flowers. i've never been given them. i've never considered myself as particularly desirable. i've dated, and the relationships have ended in failure. but i loved them, once. i still love them, in a way. i'm not sure if there's a wrong way to love, so long as you're loving in good faith. i wonder if i'm lying to myself about love, if i even have the capacity to love. i wonder if i'm lying to myself about any good traits i think i might have more often than i care to admit. i'm not a good person, i think. i try, scrape and scrabble my way up mountains, but it never feels like enough.

i forgive you for not braiding my hair.

but you knew that, didn't you?

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#I hope they feel like Italian today

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from now on your tumblr nickname is whatever you get from this sexual identity generator  ☆

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worm off the string

what crimes will he commit

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Behold! My newest spell of unmatched brutality and efficiency in murder!

I cast Sixteen Tons!