Latest Posts by blorbusshmorbus - Page 7

Inflamed Sense of Rejection: Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: This is that Angel Face backstory I was talking about. His name is Caleb Handover because I'm not going to call him Angel Face the whole time. There will be no "spice" because I type this on a school computer and honestly I want to expand my writing abilities. ~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a horrible way to start a journal, probably the most over-done and unintriguing sentence used to start a story, but my name is Caleb Handover. I’m 16 years old, and I live in Wilmington, Delaware. I go to Mt. Pleasant High School, class of 2001. That makes me a Junior.

It’s boring. Every single day is the same. The ducks pass over the sky when I’m walking to school, and it looked cool when I was nine, but nowadays it just feels like I’m watching someone drive to work. 

Delaware duck schedule: 6 AM, wake up to the same alarm as everyone in the neighborhood. 7 AM, fly to the pond for breakfast and a bath. Pass by that blond kid again. 

My hair was born white. People on the street asked my mom while she was pushing the stroller, why do you bleach your baby’s hair? 

She never did. 

 First period is Advanced Placement Calculus. I’m thinking about ducks. Derivatives, ducks, hyperbolas, ducks, factorials, ducks, integrals…

My mom called my hair duck-fuzz.  

I like math, but I only say that because high schoolers have to like something. If you say you don’t like any subjects in school, you sound like a wannabe-dropout loser. I’m 16 years old and taking AP Calculus. I don’t think I’m a wannabe anything, but I don’t think I’m genuine, either. I’ve already done the warmup question on the board. Find 34! It’s just a factorial. Does anyone see me?

“Caleb Handover?”

Only during attendance. 

I raise my hand until my elbow is about six inches off of my table, parallel to the smooth, fake-wood surface. Not high enough to seem like a geek, but still giving effort.  

Invisibility is a science.

“Here.” 

There’s a pause. My hand stays in the air.

“Caleb Handover?” my teacher tilts his chin up and surveys the room, his pencil hovering over my name, ready to write truant. 

“I said I’m here,” I said louder as I raised my hand higher. My pen balances between my peace-sign fingers. My teacher flicks his eyes to me, and his eyebrows soften. He adjusts his glasses. The sad taste of desperation lingered in my mouth after essentially begging to be accounted for.

“Oh, hello Caleb. Sorry I didn’t see you.” My teacher laughs dryly and clears his throat. “Serena Hofstadter?” 

She has mono. 

“Gordon Jacobs?” 

That’s how Serena got mono.

For a moment I picture Serena and Gordon as Romeo and Juliet during the final act. Gordon drinks from a tall, crystal vial of mononucleosis extract and collapses. Serena, covered head-to-toe in orange spray tan and blonde highlights underneath her Shakespearean garb, discovers him on the floor and gives a tearful soliloquy before kissing him feverishly in an attempt to drink the mono from his lips. In the end, they’re both bedridden, and everyone knows. 

In fair Delaware we lay our scene.

I don’t know why, but I’m angry at them. Serena and Gordon. My knuckles turn white as I grip my pen harder, gritting my teeth and thinking about my peers who go to parties to drink and kiss and do drugs. I didn’t even think parties were a real thing until I started listening to rich kids’ conversations. 

“I got home so late last night…” quote from the boy wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

“I’m, like, so hungover.” quote from the girl wearing sunglasses indoors at 8:30 AM.

“Her house was so tacky.” quote from the girl whose locker is head-to-toe in sequins and leopard print, who uses perfume to cover the smell of anxiety pheromones. 

I’m not jealous, and I’d rather have lifelong diarrhea than be in the same boat as these kids, but it would be nice to have a life. 

It would be nice to be a part of something bigger than myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: Please let me know what you think, and if I should keep writing this. It would be appreciated :)

Every post is trying to be The Next Big Post but with your help this can be the The Last

Do you think Hannibal ever missed being that boy who was torn apart in the snow? Because even through the excruciating pain, the unendurable torture, at least he wouldn't be the one that got away. He wouldn't be the man trying to piece together the remnants of his shards, trying to build a new foundation after an earthquake, trying to ignore everything that had happened to him, trying to go through the motions of life after the unspeakable. He wouldn't feel like a monster wandering among humans, humans who could never fathom what kind of void gaped within him and how desperately he was trying to forget the unforgettable. The only thing he would be is the broken boy, shattered and destroyed in the snow. At least he would feel every pang of hunger and pain that tore through his body. At least he would be helpless at the hands of his pain. He wouldn't have to struggle to be reborn from the ashes. He could just fall apart, let go, feel everything. And slip away.

Laugh rule is a rule some people have for themselves that pretty much just means 'It made me laugh so therefore I have to reblog it'

Thank you so much!!!

Going crazy over the sleeves, it's too long for him 🥺🥹

@mcr-reference is this an mcr reference???

At the age of 16 all witches are assigned a familiar. You are excited for yours as you see your friends turn 16 and get theirs. Cats, Crows, spiders. You are devastated to find out that out your 16th birthday, your familiar is a 27 year old hipster named Frank.

pulling the laptop out. You're all getting super booped.

Reblog if you have not been booped yet

Reblog if its ok to spam you with boops

ry tr on dash

hey guys what does the tag "laugh rule" mean? Because I always interpret it as "this is funny. Laugh pesant!!! Laugh I say!" and I'm not sure if it means that.

i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite

> THE JESTER

you guys see it right?

JACOB ELORDI as FELIX CATTON Saltburn (2023) · dir. Emerald Fennell

hey guys, I'll be off for a week or two as I'll be posting on my ides of march blog @marcus-junius-brutus15 .

Dawg look at my therapist I’m killing myself 😂

Hannibal + text posts part 5 (part 4)

Oliver definitely listens to Mitski

RICHARD SIKEN HAS A POETRY BOOK COMING OUT THIS AUTUMN!!!! OMG!!!!

im always surprised how many people think venetia is the younger sibling. i feel like we get so caught up in those scenes defined as shocking and grotesque by media and pop culture at large that we skim over the quiet, lurking horrors of saltburn. poor, poor venetia, who was born first but will never be first, not to the boys, not to her parents, not to oliver, not to anyone. mommy's emotionally battered and neglected firstborn daughter. felix was born when venetia was still a baby, not even two years old, the perfect golden boy, son and heir, sun and air. and he's getting it all, the title, the estate, everything ("I will look after this house just as felix would have"). do you think they ever talked about it? which catton was getting saltburn? i dont. venetia, the butt of every joke. desperate, embarrassing, lighting her body up like a neon sign on an empty highway. if felix is the sun, venetia is the moon, shrouded in darkness when he's not near. venetia, destroying and remaking herself in her mother's eyes. always hungry, a scavenger of love, picking over felix's scraps, sucking up the detritus at the bottom of a dark, lonely ocean.

Will takes Hannibal to Louisiana to have "real" hot wings.

"They used to make these more spicy back in the day" Will says as he is finishing his seventh wing.

"Is that so, darling?" Hannibal murmurs as he is literally shaking and his eyes are watering while he is trying to finish his first wing.

Sigmund Freud, Franz Kafka and Bret Easton Ellis would have the most insane blunt rotation known to man.

Guys do you think Oliver quick can drive?

reblog to give the person you reblogged it from a little heart lollipop

another day working at the saltburn estate cemetery. everyone keeps asking me if they can fuck felix catton's grave. buddy, they let everyone fuck it

Sorry for not posting so much, feeling way too whimsical rn.

abigail hobbs is my daughter I love her so much

okay let's go

1. Intimate stabbing

2. Outright obsession

I feel like I don't really have to prove this one, this is literally the whole show.

3. Confused pining

4. No one knows me like you do

"I've never known myself as well as I know myself when I'm with him"

"You wanted to be seen" "By you"

"He knew where to find me"

Again, literally the whole show.

5. Lifelong promises that always sound suspiciously like wedding vows

Case closed.

This post would end Oliver quick and I know it.

glad that im not popular enough to have an evil shadow version of my blog that exists just to make contradictions on my posts