#fragment-in-reality

[fairydrowning]

"Days will pass, and you'll abandon things you were addicted to, and leave someone, and cancel a dream, and finally, accept a reality."

– Nizar Qabbani

[shisasan]

Maybe this is how God exists - not as a being, but as the loving force of everything learning, expanding, remembering. Maybe love isn’t about gravity, but about what lingers, what ripples outward, what continues even when we’re gone.

[jaysgirlx]

we need to talk about smth guys bc i've been seeing a lot of problems with it when it's really not that deep. jason todd can be mean, he can be cruel and a completely horrible person at times. so it's not mischaracterization for him to be written like that in dark content and fics. it's mischaracterization when you believe he's the sweetest being who wouldn't harm a soul. just because in your heart he's not like that doesn't mean that's how he's written. y'all do know he uses guns & he was a mob boss at one point, right? he's been through a lot but he has also harmed others and is very capable of doing so again. so please do not hate on fics with version or characterization just because you don't like it. you can ignore the fic and live your life.

[philosophybits]

A thing's real nature has a tendency to conceal itself.

Heraclitus, Fragments, B123

[diana-andraste]

Transmutations No. III, Odalisque, Brassaï , 1934-35

Taking on the sadomasochistic overtones of the Surrealists, Brassaï declared, ‘I cut flesh as one carves a block to break loose the figure which it conceals’.

[brechtian]

Bertolt Brecht - trans. John Willett

[blood-orange-juice]

I just realised. A seelie. We saw a seelie in the Night Kingdom but they are not present anywhere else in Natlan

Whyyy. What's wrong with this place

(I'm working with the assumption that graffiti guys are not seelies)

Also there's a celestial nail too. Why is it in the spirit world but not the real world

[fire-in-my-woods]

❗️LIFE IS STRANGE: DOUBLE EXPOSURE SPOILERS❗️

When. When Safi realized the last piece of her was inside of max and. And she placed a hand over max's heart and asked. Asked if it was weird that she wanted it to stay inside her

[urne-buriall]

i miss sotw dean

so do I. and sometimes I think about what would've happened if Cas had been at home the day Dean brought the bread, the night after their ill-fated first kiss:

Dean left Cesar’s making straight for Cas’ place, chewing on his thumbnail as he drove into town. Would Cas even be home? He’d probably be at work. Dean was counting on him being at work. He’d made bread, but he didn’t have anything like a speech prepared and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he saw Cas again.

He drove right past the laundromat, turned to go around the block, slowing himself down on purpose. Cas wouldn’t be there. Dean would leave a note. Because if Cas was there it could be very strange. Would he even want to see Dean? Would he want to invite him inside? The way Dean had shut him down last night, completely unwarranted, the bread might not be enough to counteract that. Dean briefly doubted whether Cas even wanted him that way to begin with, as if he might’ve made it all up. But his lips felt the ghost of Cas’ all over again. So passionate, so all-consuming. It was what all the couples in romance books kissed like. He knew how it felt, now. He hadn’t made that up.

He hid the trembling in his hands as he got out of his truck and made his way to the alley behind the laundromat. Vented air from the building smelled like detergent and dryer sheets, warm and thick. He’d feel like a criminal just heading this way if he hadn’t already visited so many times for GED studying. Those moments, too, he now thought of in a different light. Instead of sitting on the futon to go over notes, Cas might press him back into the couch with kisses…

Dean was convinced Cas wouldn’t be home, so when he rounded the corner and saw the motorbike parked, he stopped short. But Cas was walking distance from the vet clinic and used the truck for work, so he might still be out. Dean cast a glance up before he started up the metal steps. The sound of his feet announced him before he would even reach the top landing outside Cas’ front door.

He might not be home. Dean could leave the conchas on the patio table with a note. But if Cas was home, he would’ve heard someone come up the steps. Dean should knock and hope for no answer. He pulled back the screen door so he could knock on the door proper, then waited a fast moment.

Good. Nothing. He could release this complicated feeling of fear and disappointment and leave the container on the table.

The door opened before Dean could turn away.

Cas wore an old university t-shirt and a pair of dark green khaki shorts. He stood in the doorway very still, as much taken aback as Dean to find him standing there.

“Dean,” he said, voice lower and more gravelly than usual. For a moment Dean didn’t know what to think of being under Cas’ gaze again, wondering what he looked like to Cas in this moment, wondering what he thought. And then Cas’ eyes flicked past Dean towards the empty staircase. It was brief—already Cas was looking at him again—but it was telling.

He was afraid Dean had come here with others. He was afraid Dean had come with ill-intent.

“Cas, I—” Dean’s voice caught in his throat. He had to clear it unexpectedly. “I um. I made you bread.”

Cas looked down at the container Dean offered out, then back up at Dean with a furrowed brow like he didn’t understand.

“They’re, uh, conchas,” said Dean. “Like we had at Cesar’s after we brought the mustang.”

Cas’ head began to tip at an angle, putting pieces together but not with much confidence.

“I spent the morning there,” Dean finished. “Making these. Talking to Cesar. I— I wanted to give you something. To say sorry.”

Cas slowly took the container from Dean. He remained strangely still, taut, his face giving next to nothing away. “Sorry?” said Cas.

“For not letting you say anything last— last night,” said Dean. “You wanted to talk and I— I wasn’t very nice.”

Cas dropped his gaze down, mouth looking sad and severe. He took a breath and said, “I’m not sure what you want me to say now.”

It wasn’t an accusation. It was a plea. Dean felt like he’d been as clear as he could be, dropping those breadcrumbs. He’d talked to Cesar. He made conchas for Cas. He was sorry for not giving Cas a chance to talk, but he wasn’t sorry for the rest of it. But Cas wasn’t a guy who worked with coded messages.

“Well,” said Dean, and he looked from around the landing back to Cas. This wasn’t the kind of thing you stood outside for. “If you wanted to invite me in, we could start there?”

“You want to come in?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I— Yeah,” said Dean.

Cas looked thoughtful but he stepped back, letting Dean inside. Dean’s heart beat faster just passing close by Cas. The room was warm but there were a couple of windows open and Cas had the fan going, keeping it from feeling stuffy. Cas passed Dean to set the container of conchas on the table. He stopped there, looking down at them, far from confident in his next step.

Dean wondered for the first time if he really had broken things irremediably. He thought he could bring some bread over and make things right just like that? After breaking Cas’ heart into pieces by being so careless and cruel the night before?

“I freaked out.” Dean’s own voice surprised him. Quiet and strained and uncertain. He didn’t even know where the words came from, unbidden but completely honest. “I never even thought of— of kissing a guy before.” It was so vulnerable he looked down at his shoes, feeling red touch his cheeks, even as he could tell that Cas now looked over. “And I just— I like you so much, Cas, and I was worried I ruined everything, and I got scared, and then I did ruin everything. But uh, you know, my whole life just changed less than twenty-four hours ago and I just… wanna make it right.”

“Changed?” said Cas, taking a step closer.

“I’ve been trying to be something I’m not,” said Dean.  “My whole life. And then you came along. You came back. And I— I didn’t know what it meant to me. Until last night.”

Cas lifted his chin, his shoulders evening out from their previous despondent slope. “So when you said… You’re ‘not like that’...”

Dean shook his head, meeting Cas’ gaze even though it was terrifying to be so bold and honest. “It wasn’t true,” said Dean. “But… I needed some time to figure it out.”

“You talked to Cesar,” said Cas, fitting that piece of information into context now.

“Yeah,” said Dean. “I’m sorry about icing you out last night. It wasn’t fair. Are you… are you okay?”

Cas’ head tipped again as if he hadn’t expected that question. He had to think about the answer. He eventually said, “Yeah. Now.” He wet his lips and said, “Dean. I wanted to talk to you. I just wanted to say… all these things to you. I wasn’t going to push. I would’ve listened.”

“I’m sorry for that part,” said Dean. “I’m sorry I was a dick to you.”

“I was afraid I ruined things,” said Cas.

He was afraid of more than that. Dean couldn’t forget the way Cas glanced at the steps as if Dean might’ve turned up here with backup. Dean took a small step forward. “Can we start over?” he asked. “Forget I made such a mess?”

Cas glanced at Dean’s lips, a telling gesture. Exactly what Dean wanted. “Starting over,” said Cas. “Does that mean…”

“I wanna kiss you again,” said Dean. “And this time I won’t run away.”

Cas closed the last distance between them. His hand rose to cradle Dean’s jaw and Dean swore his heart leapt to his mouth in time for their lips to meet. This kiss was so tender and yet it was so much more than Dean had ever felt with any of the rare girls he’d agreed to date. Cas felt so much more real, so solid. And while this felt so much more enlivening than any other kiss, Dean found himself drifting within it, as if he’d been unmoored into a dream.

When they kissed away they kept their faces close, Cas’ head bowed and resting against Dean’s forehead. His thumb brushed across Dean’s chin, tracing just faintly against Dean’s lower lip. Dean’s heart thudded in his chest.

“You aren’t running away,” Cas stated.

“No,” said Dean. “I wanna stay right here.”

Cas made a sound like his breath catching. “Stay,” he said. “Please.”

There was something else in it. Something deeper than Dean understood. Not dangerous, not bad, but imbued with meaning he didn’t have all the clues to decipher.

[weirdscrawl]

"No artist tolerates reality"

- Nietzsche

[reponute]

BIG STEVE RELATED PNG DUMP HERE !!!!!!!

[jaysgirlx]

devin paul from suburb talks is my new crush, him in shades is my everything…

[philosophybits]

The world of books is indeed only a caricature of the real world. Both spring from the same source — but the former appears in a freer, more flexible medium. Hence all colors are sharper there — fewer shades in between — the movements more lively — the outlines hence more striking — the expression extravagant. The former appears only in fragmentary form — the latter is whole. Therefore, the former is more poetic — more inspired — more interesting — more picturesque — but also more untrue — more unphilosophical — more immoral. Most people, including most scholars, have also only a book view — a fragmentary view of the real world — and then it suffers from the same faults but also enjoys the same advantages as the book world.

Novalis, Logological Fragments II

[lostdeviantartcollages]

Chamaemelium nobile

[coffee4horses]

[fandomandangstlover]

STEVETEMBER: Day 30 - ZONE

i plan on doing day 29(and maybe a few earlier ones i missed because i like the prompts) anyways for the sake of it. cuz why not, also i get to draw steves!

Blue Steve from Fragmented Realities!! ep.2, Author's little zone :3 it looks a bit odd since i don't rlly draw backgrounds all that well, but am proud of it!

also ah have never drawn this guy in my life, so if i ever draw em again, his design might change.