
Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies

Janaina Medeiros
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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Keni
Mike Driver

@theartofmadeline
NASA
Monterey Bay Aquarium
we're not kids anymore.
Show & Tell
i don't do bad sauce passes

#extradirty

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
ojovivo
No title available
Claire Keane
Game of Thrones Daily
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@dcvxur-blog
The 12th icon in your folder is your Muses reaction to not giving any fucks anymore.
Fear ripples through his flesh, cowering behind the broad frame of Maiza as his feet shuffle against the carpet of Firo’s living room. Of all things, a dinner party --- and of all people, him. Knobby knees quivered, clutching the fine wool of his guardian’s jacket as he backed further into his spine, but none too far as to lose sight of the bloody beast now exchanging claps on the back and shakes of the hand with Firo.
When you think of love, do you think of pain?
Vance Joy, “Mess Is Mine,” Dream Your Life Away (via wnq-music)
first three to like this post get starters.
It’s not about who you miss when you’re lonely, it’s about who you miss in a room full of people.
(via against-society-against-you)
“At our last party, I knocked over their dominos on purpose.” Perhaps Firo hadn’t been clear enough, in saying that. He’d said that he ruined everyones fun, but not how he’d done so… he’d hoped Czes would understand what he meant without elaboration - but it seems Firo must recount his sins, for his point to truly come across. Out of the corner of his eye, Firo spies Maiza. He’s enjoying the fun with everyone, but he’s bee taking sly glances as if to watch over Firo and Czes. Maiza is a good man. Parts of Firo strive to be more like him, and even more so now that he has a man such as Szilard inside his mind. “I knew it was something Szilard would have found funny, and I… had to know if I was becoming the same way.”
The last thing he wants is Czeslaw’s pity. That isn’t what he’s reaching for and grasping at. He can see this conversation is making Czes uncomfortable, so he plans on shutting up soon. He doesn’t want to be the reason a kid - even one that’s 200-something years old - starts crying at a party. But he wants Czes to understand.
“I hurt two of my favorite people in the world, two of the kindest, most innocent, most lovable people I’ve ever met in my life. They ran out of the building they were so upset. Szilard would have laughed. You know that, I know that. Me? …I wanted to beat myself up. They cried, and I wanted to throw myself off a building for being the reason behind it. When I told Maiza that, he said he was glad to hear it. He said the memories I have now aren’t something I have to work to forget, but something I have to work past and live with. I don’t know what sort of life you’ve been forced to live for all these years, but I don’t think you want to betray anyone. I think it must have been really hard for you…”
Firo smiles, but it’s a sad smile, an understanding smile. What he’s feeling in this moment could never be described as happiness or joy. Standing up, Firo walks around the table and reaches out - left handed, he’s conscious of that decision, he knows that holding out his right may trigger an even more frightful reaction in Czes - and pats Czes on the shoulder.
“Lets go play with the others. You can start making some new memories. Ones you won’t have to regret having. I think that would make everyone happy, even you.”
Whatever fears Firo housed within himself, they were clearly unwarranted. It was too soon for him to worry --- too soon for the soul of Szilard to bleed into his heart, to afflict him with similar desires and sins. Even so...that day may yet still come to pass. It was an inexplicable urge that arose within Czes to the thought...but for some reason or another, as he studied the creases of sorrow and self-loathing upon Firo’s expression, he felt the overwhelming desire to be with him when --- no, if it did. Perhaps it was pity...but he doubted it. Doeful eyes foggy with tears rose as the motion of the body aside him stirred his attention --- but there was no worry in his stare as he was reached for. Firo’s instincts had been keen when he’d chosen which hand to use. Still, his words, while spoken with the best of intentions, were not as effective in achieving his desires. Tiny shoulders trembled beneath the weight of the camorrista’s palm, eyes welling beyond his control as he bowed his head low, flinching for the burn of the tears that he wiped against his sleeve. The last thing that he wanted was to be seen in shambles here, in front of all of these people that he barely knew --- --- much less Maiza, who had stolen more than a single glance since Firo had taken to his company. If the elder alchemist caught him crying, he may yet come to his aid...or worse, keep his assumptions to himself. A sharp cough cleared his throat, scleras of a slightly reddened hue lifted once more as he regained his composure.
❝ ...I...I don’t want to. I don’t want make any more memories. I don’t want...to trust anyone ever again! You don’t understand! ❞
An amused smile graces Firo’s lips as he takes in the request - this day is growing more and more pleasant as it goes on, and it’s a relief. It’s not often he gets to see this side of Czes, after all. He’s going to make the most of it while he can.
“Of course we can.” He hums, “I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”
❝ There’s a lot that you don’t know about me. ❞ A taunting tone touched his voice as passers-by stared a moment too long at the well-dressed pair, most likely assuming that they were father and son, and admiring it. Czeslaw paid them no mind. He was far more interested in the prospect which he’d proposed. ❝ Besides, who doesn’t like chocolate? ❞
❝ It takes 10 times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart, doesn't it? ❞
the hunger games trilogy starters || accepting
Almond orbs grew pensive, precious blood pooling in his throat as it drained from his cherubic cheeks, contemplative, yet shaken. What an odd question that was — at least, to be asked of him. He wouldn’t know. He’d never fallen apart, really. He’d been taken apart — limb by limb, bone by bone, seam by seam of malleable flesh peeled away, torn open, broken and mismatched and rearranged and marred, only to sew himself together again long after his mind had ceased the desire for it. A deep scar had been left in place of those that his eternal apparatus failed to allow. A child required a safe haven in which to test his boundaries, to expand his horizons, to find his limits. Those limits had been decimated by a pair of cruel hands — a pair of sharp scissors, a cat o’nine tails, an old mortician’s took-kit, a red-hot fire poker, and a soot-stained fireplace. He still felt the cleaver against his throat. He still felt the acid burning through his bone marrow. He still tasted the arsenic as it settled into his lower intestine. He still felt the rope-burn against his wrists when he closed his eyes — he could no longer sleep on his back…and every time that his body was destroyed, no matter how brutal or thorough the manner, it would heal — save for a very crucial component. With every shattered bone, every opened vein, and every shewn pane of flesh, it took his brittle mind, his wounded heart longer and longer to heal… …until eventually, it stopped trying altogether.
He still felt the scorching heat of that iron spear behind his eyes — and that must be it, for surely he had long since cried all of the tears he had within him. What stained her jacket then as he threw his thin arms about her middle and buried his sorrowful countenance into her stomach was surely blood — not tears.
life wouldn’t be so precious, dear, if there was never an end.
❝ you know, you could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve her .❞
hunger games trilogy starters || accepting
The irony in his statement was deep, but likely ( knowing Firo ) quite purposeful. It wasn’t rare for the boy to meditate upon his new-found immortality, but when he spoke of her, there was something different about it. He spoke as though, rather than feeling uncertain of his future, for once he was eager for that endless time and what it may hold. A thin hand turned perpendicular to the table upon which his elbow rested, his palm upturned to cradle the gentle curve of his chin as his doeful eyes watched her alongside Firo’s from across the room. She seemed quite blissfully unaware of their observations, let alone the topic of their quiet conversation. He envied it --- that trust in those surrounding her. Czes himself was far too paranoid to allow such indulgence. Even in the monotonous task of folding laundry, her expression wore the smallest of smiles, and for the life of him, Czes couldn’t comprehend precisely where the nature of it lie. To wear a smile when someone felt happy was nothing unnatural, but happiness ( true happiness ) was often brief, and fleeting. Happiness could be found in a moment --- in the heart of a compliment, or the thought of something amusing, or the embrace of a loved one...but in Ennis seemed to smile for no reason, alone ( to her knowledge ), and doing chores, no less. Perhaps it was possible that she was happy in her life as a whole...but that thought left a heavy, hollowing ache in his stomach, and the taste of bitterness souring at the back of his throat, and so he pushed it to the darkest corners of his mind, where the spirit and image of Fermet lived. It wasn’t safe, to search for such joy. Still...perhaps, for her, it was different. After all, she had someone who would move the heavens and the earth to protect her, and her happiness. --- It was strange...that he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Firo would protect Ennis, that he would never abandon or desert her, and never once did the thought cross his mind with any sort of hesitation...but when asked the same of himself, rather than Ennis, he was left with that same empty pit in his stomach. Why? Firo hadn’t changed...so perhaps it was that the true problem...was himself. Realizing that he’d been silent for too long, he tore his focus from the seam of the shirt between her fingers, and murmured lowly. ❝ Well, you’ve got a thousand lifetimes to see about that. Funny enough...I’d say she thinks the same thing about you. ❞
--- He did, anyway.