fw. @facewashed - Tumblr Blog

keeping it nice and vague since the main fandom has shooters: I'm an adult and this blog is intended for adults as well. if you're grossed out by incest you should probably not interact with me.

I mostly post about hughes brothers + leno brothers. also this blog is like 40% hrpf and 60% weird art and poems i like.

header is william s. burroughs' "to m", icon is from stray_pixels (twt)

#did I make an entire new email for this blog? yes. yes I did #fw.txt

giveherswords

Jenny Holzer, Black Book Posters, 1979

#ryleno #w

vveirdfishes

ordr

Thanks for sexualizing peoples trauma fuckhead

anytime

nonlynear

youre not a bad person to me youre my mutual

longseasons

hello pervert with excellent music taste

#hi

francisforever2014

how i pack to go to the park to read in nice weather

vita-min-bunniii

i like to think that i am a can of worms you would not like to open

nhlrookiecards

jack hughes cards, 2018-2020

#jh86

tobetame

thank god for body hair. i’m always saying this

tennesseewillams

LGBT = Lets Go Buy Tix for the MOVIESSSSSSS

ismenes

When my son was about to turn two, strangers would offer condolences. There’s a collective cultural dread of toddlers, who get described more like animals than people. Kids in their "terrible twos," I was warned, are illogical, unregulated, and feral. "Good luck," people would say. "He'll grow out of it."

I'm lucky: My son is a very easygoing kid. But I remember the first tantrum he threw for me. He was standing by our front door and asked to go outside. So I opened the door and grabbed his shoes. But as soon as he stepped onto the porch, he pointed back into the house.

"Inside," he said.

"Okay," I said. I picked him up and brought him inside.

But as soon as I shut the front door, he pointed outside.

"Outside!" he said.

You know where this is going. We went back and forth, inside and outside, again and again. He got more frustrated. And I got more frustrated. Eventually he wound up straddling the threshold of our house, sobbing. When I tried to comfort him, he screamed at me. "You go wherever you want!" I said. He just got madder. I felt trapped, convinced he’d concocted the whole episode as a pretext to unleash his rage at me. It was ridiculous. I consoled myself with the thought that he was just being a toddler.

But later I kept thinking about him wailing at our front door, one foot inside, one foot outside. His misery wasn't unreasonable, or trivial, or silly. My son was experiencing the agony of wanting two things that were impossible to have at the same time. What a fundamentally human sorrow! My son wasn't being a toddler; he was being a person. Adults may not walk around howling, but that same pain rages within us. In that moment, as a father, I was powerless to solve my son's problem. I told him he could go wherever he wanted, but of course I was wrong. To be where he wanted was impossible.

Make Believe: On Telling Stories to Children by Mac Barnett

#w