It's My Birthday! I Wanna Nap 😭

Great soup even

When two characters are dancing around their very obvious feelings for one another. And it’s the night before the big fight. Either of them could very well die. They both know this. One confesses their feelings, the one who’s usually so quiet, so pent up because this love isn’t something they think they deserve. And the other is overjoyed, ready to catch up on years spent pining hopefully from the sidelines. And then the battle happens. The confessor nearly dies. It comes to light they only confessed because they fully intended to die and didn’t want their lover to not know how they really felt. So now they have to navigate this aftermath. How do you deal with knowing your lover loves you, but not enough to live for you? Good soup….

Im sorry but it is so funny how people outside of tumblr view us. Like why are the tiktokers treating tumblr like some professional ass website you need to do extensive prep before you begin posting on. And the follower farming advice is so fucking funny to me when this is the website where people actively hate getting new followers

I just realized it said "want ideas that won't get arrested" KYSSSSSSS DIEDIEDIEEE

It knows me too well... sigh

I could easily show you what ive written.. or I could just read it to you as I pet your hair and tell you how proud I am?? Your choice not mine

You'll always be by my side. You're my Shadow.

Why is art so difficult? Art block shouldn't be real, we are all made by skillful hands and minds anyways. This isn't fair 😔

the right person will stay

on everyone's soul this is what happened

There's mold on these bones,

Vines encircling the limbs.

Flowers are blossoming all around, and yet none get to us.

Mushrooms lay in their absence, creating a crown.

Movement is hollow.

It rains, no drops reaching my lips:

For they fell off when the worms ate them.

Exhaust and wings flapping around entice my numb senses.

I stand for I can't sit. Everything identifiable has rotten off of me, including ligaments and skin.

No one can tell me she's going to come back.

Wind gushes through, yet still unwavered.

A water stream nearby makes barely a noise, too shallow.

Passersby are never the same, blank faces to never be recognized after; home lays within their town.

Begging to go back to what once was,

All I can do is listen to the nearby churches hymns.

I have so much to say,

warn people so then they would avoid the agony I endured.

If only corpses could roam.