being in love feels like a sunbeam on your face, it tastes like a fresh-peeled clementine, it smells like the fresh earth after a spring rain
“non-drowsy” benadryl? what’s the point then
tell me again how you do not deserve to be loved. you, with your bright eyes and wild hair and head full of dreams; you, with your melodious laugh and callused hands and sweet tongue.
tell me, when i trace the curves of your hips to the rhythm of the soft rise and fall of your chest, so late at night that the world is narrowed to a single point of you-and-me.
tell me, lover, and i will tell you “you do”. i will say it with my lips and my eyes and my hands and the way my breath slows to match yours when we lie together at night. i will tell you, as many times as it takes, until you believe me.
his lips are so soft on mine, his touch so tender. i never knew i could be loved in a way that mattered this much before
*through gritted teeth* i am gonna make it. through this year. if it kills me.
i love physical touch, but sometimes nothing compares to seeing your beloved’s face light up when you give them a gift. something handcrafted and meticulously planned, something hastily bought at a gas station with a little scribbled message on a post-it note. “it’s the thought that counts” is an overused phrase, but there really is no greater gift than knowing those you love continue to care about you when you’re not around.
tell your friends you love them and tell them the things you love about them. tell him he has really pretty eyes, tell her you look forward to getting to see her every day in between classes, tell them their outfits are always on point and you wish you could do eyeliner that well. put a little love out into the world and you’ll be surprised at how much you get back in return
music is such a beautiful way to love
oh fuck i accidentally murdered four ants in cold blood on my walk home from work. i am a killer. i will struggle with this moral conundrum for the rest of my days. i need to turn myself in to the cops
palm reading might be superstition, but hands can be the windows into someone’s life in so many other ways. calluses, scrapes, scratches, scars; they can convey a whole life in just a cursory glance. bumps and dimples in your fingers from holding a pencil or a phone or a paintbrush. stained fingertips, closely-bit nails- a glimpse into the day of a stranger. there’s a reason holding hands is so intimate.
yeah sorry i don’t think i can make it into work today. yeah. uh huh. well, there’s this war going on between the ants that live in front of my apartment and i’ve actually been hired as a wartime reporter. mhm. yeah i guess this is my formal notice. yeah. sorry, i know this is important to you but i’ve got an interview lined up with some ants in a few minutes and i really need to go do that. so. mhm. yeah, talk to you later.
watchmoviesonlinefree is a beautiful name for a baby girl
sorry i haven’t been super active on here recently! too busy thinking about gerard way
happy pride month to everyone who’s still unsure about their identity. you belong in the queer community too, and there will always be a space for you if you want it ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜
i think everyone even cis people should have a deadname. like. picking out your own name and choosing your own identity should be such an integral part of being human. casting away all the falsehoods of childhood and keeping only the love and the wisdom you’ve gained and using that to construct a new self, a new personhood… idk i think cultures that call kids a placeholder name and let them pick their own once they reach maturity were doing something right
the slug reacting is just the new version of those “fbi agent” memes that were big a few years ago but for fictional gays. prove me wrong