#I'M PROCESSING

[livefreebutwisely]

If Katsuki made the costume design then he's the one who added a cape.

He really gave Izuku everything he always wanted.

[lizluzz]

Izzy really said queer spirit will outlast empires, I'm so emotional

[amevello-blue]

Oof.

[clairedsfield]

CARLOS VALDES

© ian spanier

[thornsnvultures]

what is writing if not laying on the floor crying and listening to suddenly, seymour

[doyou000me]

If Our Colours Would Mix

[491 words]

He ascends from above, approaches from behind. Like something that keeps to the blindspot, the Artist creeps up on the unsuspecting audience. Once they notice that he is there, once he is moving to the front - of the room, of the stage, of their minds - his presence is already taking over the room. The Artist is like something that cannot be ignored, something that cannot be denied, something that cannot be avoided. 

Something like love. 

On a canvas of white, of emptiness, of purity, the performers await the Artist. As he picks up red paint, they start to move. They throw themselves at each other, arms reaching, hands pulling. The Artist splatters them with red passion, red strength, red power, and their bodies clash and collide. They heave themselves through the air, crash to the floor, tear at one another, overcome with red heat, covering themselves in red rage, dangerously close to drawing real, red blood. And then- 

Blue. 

The Artist splatters it over the performers. It runs down an arm and covers a hand that touches a cheek. Blue calm slows their movements; blue peace guides their embrace. In blue loyalty, one lifts the other who in blue trust lets themself be held up high, higher than they could ever have reached on their own. 

As the performers move, the red and blue mix. Luxurious purple blooms, rich and mature. Splatters of yellow from the Artist’s paintbrush mix with blue. Green springs to life, the green of growth, of health, of prosperity. The performers hold one another, unbreakable, unstoppable, inseparable. But then…

Yellow. 

At first, friendly and cheerful. Yellow warmth and yellow joy. The performers skip, they twirl, they dance. Then, as more yellow joins the mix, as more blue turns green and the green changes hue… 

Yellow sickness, yellow madness, yellow danger. 

Green envy, spreading like poison, corrupting. 

Some red that remains gets into the yellow and green. Orange, for a moment, the orange that the venerable monks wear, the orange of a burning sunset, of ruin. The performers move, more frantic now, reaching for eachother yet moving further apart. Their white clothes of innocence are stained with their story, stained with their love. Beneath their feet, the paint on the canvas mixes as they move, their feet dragging through the paint and the colours mix, mix and mix. They mix until they can no longer be separated, until they have become indistinguishable, until they have turned to brown. 

Brown, steady and reliable. 

Brown, like the earth from which new life grows. 

Brown, like the earth in which graves are dug and bodies laid to rest. 

The performers have fallen. Lying in the brown, still reaching for eachother, arms stretched out, they are too far apart. The distance between them, a distance of brown, is too great. They cannot touch, and will not touch again. 

Into that brown distance, the Artist pours black.

Black death. 

Black mourning. 

Black end.

This scene is like a piece of almond stuck between my teeth that I can't help but poke with my tongue. I want to get it out, if only so that I can chew it and have some of that sweet flavour. So I started googling the meanings of colours, and wondered - what if the colours mixed, creating new colours, new meanings? I know they don't seem to do that in the scene (presumably because of what paint is used?) so this'll probably not make it into Held (though I might use bits and pieces) which is why I thought - why not just throw it up on Tumblr, add it to the ecosystem, see what happens? So here we are. Tell me what you think?

[funforahermit]

anyway do y'all remember when he said "i can feel the fingers going in there"?

[pigeon-zz]

I've never had 10 minutes brake me so badly before

[xnervouscircus]

sorry about all my rambling posts and tags but ball it we fuck

[lazaruscorpse]

sometimes you end a text with "don't call me" and the person shows up in person instead even though it's like an hour by car

[chodzacaparodia]

It's frustrating that you can come up with the plot of an entire fic in just a few seconds, but writing it all down can take anywhere from never to forever.

[seagiri]

when did this happen???

[gojobait]

i like to think that this was claudia both cursing lestat and just her being a scared daughter looking to her father for comfort while in agony in a room full of people who cheered on as she burned.

on one hand i think this is her passing her own judgment on him, forcing him to face the consequences of his actions, of what he put her through. i do think she believed his version in the end (if her questioning louis and then changing her wording to "even if it is true" is anything to go by) but of course she does not forgive him. she cant. his explainations arent an excuse. none of it justifies what he did to her specifically, and both of them know it. i think its also why lestat doesnt even try to apologize to her.

and on the other hand, at this point madeleine was already dead, louis had been taken away and no one in the coven had any love or sympathy for her. lestat was all she had left, and he was the one who made her. we keep being told over and over how strong the vampire bond is in regards to louis and lestat but lestat made claudia too. he's watching his own blood die and he feels it, and she knows it, and knows that bond, that shared pain is the last shred of love she will ever feel.

[fudgecake-charlie]

Dinner at Grian's

[perpetualcontrolleddrowning]

Something something the way that Crowley introduced himself to Aziraphale the first time they met in the garden and reacted as if they had never met before. Something about him later behaving as if he did actually have those memories of their time in Heaven together and trying to pass it off as being someone different now. Something about Heaven's way of punishing angels that go against the plan by erasing their memories. Something about Crowley seeing Gabriel without his memory and saying "ask him properly." Something about "remember it now" "it hurts, to remember. my head isn't built for that" "I know. Do it anyway"

Something about "I know. Looking at where the furniture isn't"

Something about I know

[saltpepperbeard]

going fucking bonkers going bananas going INSANE [x]