i’d love an indulgent little montage of stede bathing for the first time since he gets back to the revenge, especially since such a pivotal emotional moment took place there. idk just the symbolism of him taking up that same space that ed did, covered in his robe, spilling his heart. peeling off his dirty clothes, nothing separating him from the trust ed put in him that night, baring himself the way ed did and washing away the last however-long’s worth of longing to be home. allowing himself this tiny little sliver of respite, the steam surrounding him, submerging his head under the water but surfacing again, really feeling the ache of proper piracy and the bigger ache of remembering ed’s head against his hand
Started watching The Sandman which, despite years of tumblr osmosis I’ve actually managed to learn very little about, and I’m afraid I’m deeply into this sad wet-cat man
If the landlord doesn’t want me fishing around in their shower vent and cold air returns, then they shouldn’t make them stink like rotting garbage. You painted over the screws so they’re hard to open? Cool. I’ll drill holes into them and get them out with a power tool because the town next to me is having a citywide garage sale and I’m sure there’s some Ryobi in there at a decent price. Your vents are coming off motherfucker, and if I find anything I swear to fucking god I am going to have both your vents and your bank account cleaned out.
Feeling floaty and thinking about how I wanna go inside and deep throat my dildo and pretend it’s his cock!! I’m so horny and I want to be used so so badly. Unfortunately not till Sunday. But on Sunday I will be the most desperate devoted slut for him and I cannot waitttttt!!!!
thinking about the things i draw and how they helped me love myself…..every character i draw is hairy and sweaty and i myself. am hairy and sweaty. if it’s hot and sexy on my fictional guys it’s gotta be hot and sexy on me right.
i love what rainy days do to me. the pressure fills my head until i feel like a hollow glass sphere tied to a rock deep underwater. the ends of my fingers and toes tingle and time passes by unobserved. sleep and water and food evade me, and let me sink deeper. i retire to the back of my mind, snuggled up against the occipital lobe, high enough to brush the roots of my follicles and forget the sensation of my legs. rejecting even the thought of humanity becomes simple, because how could it not? the hot lick of tragedy cannot burn the underfoot of cold gods; the sly whisper of indulgence cannot fill their empty stomachs; the docile beat of love cannot make their still chests pliant. i am caught in the crystalline planes of heaven, stretched tight in glittering spiders web, suspended if only a moment in eternity. then, like a deer from wide-eyed disbelief, a single footstep cuts me loose. the world comes back in sounds, rampaging across mortal wounds, and light, cracking through warm supple flesh. this is what i mean by delusion, this is what i crave when my breath goes lax, this is brought to me with crowding clouds and taken away just as quickly. my neck always seems to creak when it twists, and under my ribs is an sunken ache.