#what a beautiful time it was to be alive

[sambrosiac]

in honor of the first ever omegaverse anime i would personally like to thank the incestious undertones in the hit cw tv show supernatural (2005-2020) for making this happen

[shisasan]

One of the coolest videos of the meteor captured falling in Portugal. 🌠 #milarefacho

[onaperduamedee]

Your body no longer feels like your own.

[beyondthesurface]

what a time

[tommydoesntpayforsuits]

Explaining to my 84-year-old, very Spanish grandfather that Hugh Grant, a famous British actor and heartthrob of the past, orchestrated Benny Hill music, from an ancient comedy show meant to highlight clownish behaviour, to play outside Parliament to insult Boris Johnson.

[janeissx0x]

Girly post 🤍💕

[anna-scribbles]

thirteen update 🍂 🎹 🏠 👻

chapter 2: November

chapter summary:

She was in a good mood. If she was ever going to take it well, it would be now.

“Maman, what if I went to school this year?”

excerpt:

“Heh.” Adrien flicked a finger beneath his chin and strutted the length of his bathroom floor, glancing at himself in the mirror. He twirled a rose—a red one, one he’d grabbed from the vase downstairs—between his fingers and then presented it to the mirror with a flourish.

“Haruhi!” he declared, “the spring of my heart surges upon the sight of your fresh smile, my love. My heart beats at the command of your drum! Your face is the fierce longing of my soul, and I present to you now this token of my lavish, undying—”

A sharp knock clicked against the bedroom door and Adrien froze, his hand still passionately hovering over his heart.

“Adrien?” Nathalie’s voice called, and Adrien—true to character, if he did say so himself—startled so hard that he slipped and fell onto his butt on the tile.

“Yeah?” he called, hastily pulling himself up and trying to find a place to set down the rose.

Nathalie peeked her head through the bathroom door and took him in, his rumpled hair and the too-small blue blazer he’d saved in the back of his closet for occasions such as…this.

“You have a guest,” she said flatly, and Adrien could not for the life of him figure out whether she was making fun of him.

She left before he could decide, and then it was only a matter of seconds before his bathroom door was thrown all the way open and a blonde ponytail bobbed into view.

“Adrikins!” Chloé crashed into him, wrapping him up in a hug that nearly knocked him over again. “It’s been way too long. You’ve been neglecting me. Aw, did you get me a rose?” She plucked it from his hands and then scrunched up her nose. “Ew, is this real?”

“As real as the current that springs from the well of my heart,” Adrien invented, and Chloé frowned at him like he’d just spoken Greek. “Nevermind.”

She looked him up and down and scrunched her nose up even more. “What did you do to your hair?”

Adrien frowned at his reflection in the mirror and pushed his hair further over to the side.

“I was trying to make it look cool.” He’d been trying to make it look like Tamaki from Ouran High School Host Club.

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed.”

read on ao3

[tothebestofmyabilities]

@seemoreseymoursbay day 4!! Platonic relationship day

I chose Nat and Louise for today! I just love how she looks up to Nat, Louise seems to have a lot of insecurities about her place in the world and how she expresses herself and her gender (being worried about not liking girly things or about her interests being too scary or dangerous and about those things making her bad or wrong) so the way she seems to see Nat as a positive rolemodel for non traditional femininity and aspires to be more like her is just really sweet to me. I also personally hc Louise as a lesbian and I think when she starts to crush on a girl (in this case jessica bc i love them together) she wouldn't want to talk to her family about it for fear of them trying to involve themselves so she starts going to Nat to vent about her crushes and get advice (and hold snakes probably)

[fumbles-mcstupid]

BUT HONESTLY

the narrative significance

of two pairs of people:

who both, having once had a close, trusting relationship:

becoming, at some point (past or present), divided:

with one having saved others and risked their life only to sway precariously from a height:

while the other watches and believes them to be dead:

only to learn they are alive:

and warmly reconcile their differences:

one is a clear romantic pairing and the other is...?

also a romantic pairing, that’s what

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[introspectivememories]

roger who's nickname for buggy was "junebug" cause they found him in june and his hair is the same color.... buggy who hates it at first until he's climbing into his captain's bed at night bc of a nightmare and his captain says ever so softly, "oh junebug, c'mere"..... the nickname getting adopted by everyone on the crew until nobody calls him buggy anymore..... them meeting up with thr whitebeard pirates and getting irrationally jealous when the whitebeards use the nickname bc that's their nickname and who the fuck do these people think they are getting so close to their junebug.... rouge who has never met buggy calling him junebug in her head.... roger whose last words to buggy that fateful day before loguetown was "you shine like the sun, junebug. never stop"..... buggy who waits for years after the execution for a call from one of his former crew members, hoping every time the den-den one day it'll be rayleigh or seagull or gaban or sunbell on the other side with a familiar "hey junebug", except no one ever calls and the years go by and buggy slowly learns to stop waits, and gives on being the roger's junebug and learns how to be buggy the clown, buggy the genius jester, buggy the immortal, everything and anything other than junebug

[riemmetric]

I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map And knew that somehow I could find my way back

[westernstardh]

Draco (Dragonheart, 1996) Appreciation Gif Set

[helenkordart]

Recently the 4th volume of the english Thousand Autumns came out and when I saw Mimo′s design of beloved old fart Guang Lingsan, all I could say was "awooga humina humina humina", so like

[itspileofgoodthings]

tortured poets is so close ….

[opikiquu]

hhahhehehehahgeehshdgshheehehh HAHAHAHAHAH so i did the story