JBB: An Artblog!
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Not today Justin
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$LAYYYTER
Cosmic Funnies
art blog(derogatory)
#extradirty
Xuebing Du
shark vs the universe
JVL
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styofa doing anything
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
AnasAbdin
izzy's playlists!
h
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Andulka
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@perciverthoughts
New blog, who dis? I've wanted to make a perciver blog for ages since this is a pairing I always seem to come back to and Percy Weasley is one of my favourite characters of all time so here it is! I figured it was finally time to start creating and interacting for once
Asks + Requests are always Open
Fics + Headcanon Masterlist (will be added to as I write them)
Not So Perfect- Minific
Oliver & Penelope Friendship
Breakfast- Perciver minific
Collarbones- Perciver
An Incomplete list of Times my Disaster Bi self did not realise a hot woman was flirting with me until it was too late
The girl who told me I looked sexy when I was on my way to the bar one night. My friend then asked me why I didn't get her number. I thought she was just being nice.
The time a girl told me she 'really identified' with the lyrics of Girl in Red's 'i wanna be your girlfriend' after we'd spent the whole afternoon collecting rocks together. As if the song title wasn't already obvious enough: my name is literally Hannah
The girl at the crystal shop who used to give me discounts all the time. She stopped after my best friend came with me and she heard us calling each other 'babe'
The girl who told me my lipstick looked like it wouldn't smudge 'even if I was having the best kiss of my life'
The girl who, when we were comparing boobs (don't ask) told me my nipples were 'perfect'. She also told me I could squeeze her tits if I wanted to. In my head this was just very normal girly things. My friends later told me that no one spends that much time looking and feeling up the boobs of someone who is just a friend
The girl who kept leaning in close to 'get a better look at my makeup'. i didn't realise she was leaning in for a kiss until she kissed me.
The girl who, when she was teaching me how to play pool, spent a lot more time pressed up against me than was probably necessary. I still suck at pool and I did not get her number.
dear god how do u fumble so bad but ALSO DEAR GOD YOU PULL SO MUCH?????
I’m blessed with a pretty face and cursed with an incredible amount of negative rizz unfortunately :(
An Incomplete list of Times my Disaster Bi self did not realise a hot woman was flirting with me until it was too late
The girl who told me I looked sexy when I was on my way to the bar one night. My friend then asked me why I didn't get her number. I thought she was just being nice.
The time a girl told me she 'really identified' with the lyrics of Girl in Red's 'i wanna be your girlfriend' after we'd spent the whole afternoon collecting rocks together. As if the song title wasn't already obvious enough: my name is literally Hannah
The girl at the crystal shop who used to give me discounts all the time. She stopped after my best friend came with me and she heard us calling each other 'babe'
The girl who told me my lipstick looked like it wouldn't smudge 'even if I was having the best kiss of my life'
The girl who, when we were comparing boobs (don't ask) told me my nipples were 'perfect'. She also told me I could squeeze her tits if I wanted to. In my head this was just very normal girly things. My friends later told me that no one spends that much time looking and feeling up the boobs of someone who is just a friend
The girl who kept leaning in close to 'get a better look at my makeup'. i didn't realise she was leaning in for a kiss until she kissed me.
The girl who, when she was teaching me how to play pool, spent a lot more time pressed up against me than was probably necessary. I still suck at pool and I did not get her number.
I love the phrase 'falling in love' but I hate that the connotation is almost always romantic. Falling in love is a process. Or maybe it isn't, but it takes time and learning and 'hey, this is a piece of the universe that belongs to me and you' but it doesn't have to be romance. I've fallen in love with every friend I've ever had. I've watched a parent meet their kid who they later adopted, and like- that was falling in love. I've known siblings who barely talked become closer than anything and I think that's falling in love too. I think theres a lot of ways to fall in love and so many of them are underappreciated and never really talked about but falling in love means so much more than a romance. Y'know?
weary and wary are not the same word and have very different meanings and if i see one more person use wearily when they mean warily I’m gonna combust
weary: tired, worn-out, beaten down, exhausted, in need of rest. they were weary after their long journey. wearily, she sat down on the couch and kicked off her shoes. he had grown weary of this conversation.
wary: guarded, cautious, on-edge, careful. they were wary of the approaching stranger. warily, she poked at the dark shape in the corner of her room. he paused, wary, but nodded anyway.
thank you for this reply you get the funny crown today with bonus points for accuracy
It's the strangest feeling, loving someone so much and feeling yourself growing further and further apart while the love doesn't fade at all.
I've known her since fifth grade, the youngest one in that classroom, a new school and a new grade, fifth instead of fourth even though I was only turning ten that year instead of eleven. She sat across the classroom from me, quiet and shy and talented even then, but it took weeks and several of my failed attempts to make friends with various others before she took pity on me and found me at recess. She had long brown hair, almost as long as mine, and the prettiest grey eyes I'd ever seen, and I think even then I knew I'd love her.
She's an artist and I'm a reader. In sixth grade she bought me a gift card to the book store and glued it to a piece of cardstock she'd painted with my favourite book characters. She's the only one who ever remembered them. She drew me too. At the time I scoffed, told her she'd made me look too pretty, but maybe that's how she saw me all along. My penchant for putting my foot in my mouth did not make me unaware of how rude that sounded, and I stumbled over my words trying to explain myself. But she understood. She always did. I am often loud and overly excitable, anxious and quick tempered, while she is serene and sweet, calm until she has a bit too much sugar or a little to little sleep and her zany, joyous side comes out. We balance, me and her, always have. That day she just brushed aside my apologetic ramblings with a smile and said she'd have to work on it.
She went to church and I didn't. In seventh grade we had the closest thing we'd ever had to a proper argument at recess, over evolution of all things. Her church said it wasn't real. I couldn't fathom that. We ended at an icy stalemate, that quickly thawed and things went back to the way they always were. She started working on her comic strip, showed me doodles of her characters and I showed her my shitty harry potter fanfiction before I posted it on wattpad. We did a piano duet together at a concert, and had a lot of sleepovers, most of them at my house. We didn't talk about how her parents very clearly hated me, about their icy politeness or her mom's many attempts to save my soul, not even after the one and only time she brought me to church. Instead, we traded books and tv series and secrets and pretended everything was fine. She cut her hair and learned to do eyeliner, while I traded leggings for skinny jeans and tried out eyeshadow. Sometimes she'd do eyeliner for me, leaning in close, hands gentle as they cradled my cheek, brushes tracing her little magics onto my skin. I asked her to do it a lot. She offered pretty often too.
In eighth grade she started youth group, and by the end of ninth she was going to two at once and the rest of our small friend group was too. She was still my best friend. We played cards at lunch and she sat next to me in class, smelling like the strawberry pound cake body spray she got when we went shopping, and laughing at me when I failed abysmally in gym class.
They went to camp in the summer. Church camp. All of them. Of the seven people in our friend group, I was the only one who spent my summer at swim meets at cadet events. I didn't want to go to church camp, but I didn't want to always be left out. The last week before school started she invited us all to her cottage. They spent the whole first night talking about people from camp I didn't know, and listening to christian rap music i couldn't stand. The next day her and i went canoeing, just the two of us. She wore a blue bikini, and I watched her shoulders burn over the course of the afternoon, as we paddled clear to the other side of the lake and spent nearly three hours looking for frogs. Eventually, we went back. She took a picture of me on the dock, and I pulled her into one of the both of us, my hand around the warmth of her waist while she rested her head on my shoulder. That picture sits in my camera roll to this day, a bittersweet memory to this day. She's was the sweet. The three days I spent being ignored that followed were the bitter.
High school started. I cut my hair, and we still played cards at lunchtime. My friends started dating, boys from camp that I'd never met. But she wasn't dating anyone either, and for a while we sat apart and talked while the others talked about boys. She always wore a necklace with a whale on it, and I told myself that was what I was noticing when I found myself looking further than just her pretty face. We sat together in math and english, but all our other classes we were apart. She still showed me her drawings- sometimes. By then, some pages of her sketchbook were kept only for her.
Both youth groups continued, and I still didn't go. More people from school went. I didn't. The pastor's son at her church asked her out and she said yes. I started wearing dresses and high heels and joined student council. When I asked her about him she spoke with detached disinterest, and brightened considerably when I changed the subject to our upcoming essays about Lord of the Flies. I left it be.
We exchanged Christmas gifts, like we did every year. I was wearing bright red lipstick that season, something I found myself liking immensely. It was clear by then, to me and everyone around me, that I was...something. If people asked, I told them bisexual. If they didn't, they guessed whatever they thought suited me best. That year I gave her half a dozen pretty candles, and chocolates I'd bought with money from my very first job, making sure to get the kind she liked, with caramel filling and dark chocolate on the outside. She gave me perfume and a hand drawn card full of her carefully rounded writing with the 'g's that always bled into the letter next to them. She smiled, and I couldn't figure out exactly why I was blushing, even though I was something and she was beautiful, and a small, hopeful piece of me that knew her the way only a best friend could, always thought she might be something too.
We drifted after that. Not completely, but friend group splintered and she and I went different ways. I found a new group to sit with at lunch. She and I talked between classes and after school and then almost never at all. The pandemic hit. Years passed, and I grew up, wiring fanfic when I should have been getting a driver's licence. I didn't text her much in quarantine, but I didn't find it strange because I didn't text much of anyone. I still thought about her though. When you've loved someone since fifth grade it's hard not to.
School started again in person for grade 12. We started talking again. She dressed different now, her shirts cut lower and her eyeliner even sharper than I remembered. We fell back together as quickly and easily as we'd drifted apart, and in a matter of weeks we were walking to the drugstore to buy cheap makeup and camping out at the Tim Hortons when we didn't have class. She was lighter then. She laughed easier, and smiled more often, her eyes crinkling up at the corners in a way that made a knot of worry in my chest unravel, one I didn't even realize was there until it was gone.
She didn't go to youth group anymore, the one her older brother now ran, and she often invited me to so things on Saturday mornings, innocuous things like homework or coffee runs. She started sleeping over again, one pillow away on the other side of the queen, so often that I started thinking of it as her side of the bed, and my mom started setting an extra place at the table more often than not. Her boyfriend was ancient history at that point, and she laughed and groaned in equal measure when I brought him up. There won't be another boyfriend any time soon she told me, with a look that burned into my core, and I knew what she was telling me without her having to confess it. It stayed unspoken for a few weeks until she blurted out 'lesbian' and slept over again on a Saturday night. She told her mom she watched mass at my house when in reality we watched Arcane and Twilight and Real Housewives, giggling the whole way through.
It was a sunny day at the beginning of summer and we were lying side by side on her rusty trampoline when I asked her if she had a crush on anyone and she propped herself up on one elbow and teasingly asked how I didn't know it was me, she hadn't exactly been subtle this year. We walked hand in hand to the railroad tracks and a few days later we went to the nature museum because she knows I love it and their was a new exhibit. She held my hand again, and I liked how they fit together, warm and comfortable and safe. We went for coffee and I spent the whole time thinking about kissing her. We did that kind of thing a few times, without either of us ever working up the nerve, and then the spark of whatever we were trying out faded back into friendship.
I went to uni and she went to college. First year she came down to visit me for homecoming, and I got horrendously drunk and embarrassed myself in front of her and my new roommates and all their friends. I walked her to the bus stop. That summer we both went home, and resumed our sleepovers and shopping trips. Second year started, and we texted every few days. Last summer we saw each other less, easy conversation replaced with comfortable but seemingly insurmountable silence.
We just finished third year, me of a psychology degree, while she graduated from her college animation program. She's an hour away, but it feels sometimes like an ocean. She drive me home for easter and we spent two days and multiple three hour car rides together and hardly had a word to say to each other, even though we hadn't seen each other in months. She brought me a tiny dinosaur charm. We stopped at Tim Horton's like we always do. She slept next to me and I still thought about how much I wanted to kiss her.
We're growing apart. Sometimes being with her is the easiest thing in the world, and sometimes it feels like I don't know what to say to her or her to me, like maybe there's nothing to say. She's still happy, a bright, laughing woman instead of a terrified teen, and every time I see her I'm so proud of her I could burst. She's entering art contests but I still think her best work is the painting she did for me in sixth grade that still hangs on the wall of my childhood bedroom. We barely text these days, but she knows the important things and my favourite colour, and I know the important things and that she hates tomatoes.
We're different people now, with different paths, going different ways. We have less in common than we used to, I think, or at least less time to find our common ground. We both like reality tv and coffee, but I don't know anymore where she spends her bad days or who she spends her time with, and she doesn't know the things that scare me or about my disastrous statistics final. But I still love her, and I know she still loves me. I lover her just as fiercely and completely as I always have, and I think I always will. It's just strange. We're different now, going different ways, and I'm okay with it. I get it. I think one day she'll be in the wind and I'll be lost to her too and the love will still be here, nestled in my heart, a thousand memories and feelings and smiles, hidden somewhere safe in my chest, and it will be warm, warm, warm, this love for a girl I have loved and lost a thousand times and never at all.
*wakes up in a cold sweat* OH MY GOD. THAT GIRL I TALKED TO LIKE 2 YEARS AGO WAS FLIRTING WITH ME. WHY AM I JUST REALIZING THAT NOW
SHE PUSHED A PIECE OF MAY HAIR BEHIND MY EAR. FUCK.
Sometimes the canon straight relationships are deeper, better fleshed out, and more compelling than the fanon gay ships btw.
Not all the time, and this might be sacrilegious to post about on the Gay Fanon website, but I really do mean it. I ship a lot of non canon gay couples in a lot of different fandoms, but I can also see when popular fanon ships are just an excuse to put someones favourite blorbo into a gay relationship. And like, it's fine or whatever. Let the little fourteen year old queer kids who don't have any other outlet to explore their queerness have fun and feel safe. Let them create their made up worlds where everyone is queer and accepting and gets a happy ending because they may never find that in the real world. Escapism can be fun and healing. But lets not pretend these worlds are narratively as strong as some cannon ships and let's not pretend this part of fandom culture doesn't carry some serious issues. Let's not pretend these ships don't often end up reducing complex characters to one dimensional stereotypes. Let's not pretend they involve ignoring key details about a character's background or beliefs to project [insert sexuality here] onto a character to fit the ship. Let's not pretend this often leads to perpetuating negative stereotypes in order for a antagonistic character to fit a fanon narrative (a common one I see is bullies or bigoted characters only doing it because they were closeted. Like, what message does this send kids when their past shitty behaviour is automatically excused by other characters because of it?)
Also, let's not pretend fetishization of gay people (or trans people, I see this too) doesn't play a role (at least some of the time) either. Let's not pretend that sometimes some fanon gay ships are just an excuse to get female characters out of the picture because people carry so much internalised misogyny they refuse to adress. Let's not pretend that taking a male character who's arc revolved around unlearning misogyny, learning to respect women, and falling in love with one, and pushing him into a fanon gay relationship kind of assassinates his character a bit.
And I know, believe me I know, we're starved for queer characters. Believe me I do. But taking a canon straight couple, that were well written and well suited and whose arcs complimented each other and going well he's gay now and is in love with Hot Male Villain #1 but she's a lesbian now too so don't worry there's no hard feelings on her end and also I don't hate women but i'll never write about this lesbian relationship ever it's just an excuse to get her out of the way without having to explore any negative feelings ever- is, a bit weird to me.
I've also noticed there tends to be this odd conflation in fandom spaces where queer characters= inherently morally good and straight characters= inherently morally bad in an overwhelming number of stories, and I find it concerning. Sexuality and gender identity and queerness in any form is inherently a neutral thing. It has no moral connotation whatsoever. At all. And while I know most people know this, this feature of equating queerness with morality and straightness with immorality is not a good thing for anybody, queer or not queer. These are not the sorts of ideas it's healthy for anyone to internalize, and having these messages beamed at you from every direction ever day means people will start to internalize them
This isn't a callout post and I'm not about to start listing ships or fandoms because that is neither constructive nor kind and I really don't need people coming after me for 'attacking their ships' but I find a lot of these issues pervasive and slightly worrisome. Again, everyone is absolutely entitled to their escapism and their interpretations of a character, but if you're interpretation of a character involves changing literally everything about them just to put them in a gay relationship, maybe you don't actually like that character that much. Maybe write an OC. Ask yourself why you ship this so hard? Do these characters as PEOPLE make a good couple regardless of their sexuality or gender identity? If one of them was canonically in a straight relationship maybe ask yourself why you think they were so ill suited. Ask yourself if one of the characters in that canon relationship you hate so much was genderbent if you'd still think the relationship would never work. Ask yourself if the narrative purpose of that canon straight relationship was important enough to the story that to dissolve it would dissolve the main themes of the work itself.
Again, this doesn't apply to every straight relationship in media. A lot of them are shitty, heteronormative, underdeveloped, and excuses to put two single characters together because god forbid a fictional character ever be happily single. But some straight relationships are well written and cute and explored well and central enough to the centre of a story that pulling characters out of that relationship deeply affects your ability to actually engage with a piece of media, it's themes, and the messages it conveys. And I know not everyone is into literary analysis as much as I am and that a lot of people just want to use their blorbos like paper dolls, and again that's absolutely fine! But call it what it is, be cognizant of the media you're consuming and creating, and try not to fall into common 'traps' in fandom spaces because goddamn even the most lighthearted of these spaces are a goddamn echo chamber.
'Say goodbye to me now and leave before I wake up' will forever be the saddest line ever uttered in television to me. Every time I watch that episode of the Good Place I take a full week to recover
Ok so I think in my head Penelope looks like Maya Hawke if she had curly hair. Thoughts?
Hmm okay i see the vision
To me, she has a bit of a rounder face.
Also i see her with longer and lighter hair tbh.
hmmm but i do really like that hehe
lemme try to find someone that i see her as!
okok, like them but with curlier hair (yes these are two different people, i'm aware, but they have the same vibes and the same feature that i think of her to have)
idk, lemme know what you think!!
but i also love maya hawke, so yes.
Ohhhh I see your vision! I definitely get seeing the rounder face thing, but I need my Penny with dirty blond hair, like Idk why I jsut cant see her any other way also I'm kind of in love with Maya Hawke which definitely influenced my fancast wait what who said that
Collarbones- Perciver
Oliver has a problem.
It’s not necessarily a big problem, like that time he’d agreed to help nana with her christmas cooking and nearly burned down the kitchen, or that time da had introduced him to his new girlfriend and he’d puked on her shoes. But it’s still a problem.
The thing is, Oliver is a simple man. He likes straightforward classes, like potions and defense, and he likes quidditch because it’s a simple game that requires complex thinking. Most of all, he likes Percy Weasley- but Percy Weasley is not a simple man, and Oliver spends an inordinate amount of time trying to figure him out.
It’s a long term project, but Oliver is not opposed to hard work, and Percy is worth it, always has been. That’s not the problem, not at all.
The problem is that somewhere along the line being friends with Percy turned into falling hopelessly, madly in love with Percy, and now Oliver can’t even study in the library with him without daydreaming about biting his collarbones.
Fuck. The collarbones are just there, okay? They’re exposed by the scoop neck of his Weasley sweater the way they never are when he wears his robes and his school shirt, and it turns out Oliver’s weakness- besides just Percy in general- is apparently an extra inch of creamy white skin sprinkled with freckles, and the small hollow where Percy’s shoulder meets his neck.
He wants to lick it. He wants to bite it. He wants to snog Percy Weasley absolutely senseless and figure out what will make him gasp and squirm and agree to be his boyfriend.
Unfortunately, Percy has never once given even the slightest inclination that he might be on board with such ideas, and so Oliver is not about to say any of that out loud, ever, not even if Penelope Clearwater makes good on her threat to lock them in a broom cupboard so they’ll ‘finally stop dancing around each other and admit they’re arse-over-tits for each other’(her words, not his). Penelope is kind of weird, but Oliver likes her anyway. For one, she’s Percy’s best friend, and for another the fact she thinks it’s even possible Percy might like him back is extremely flattering, even if it couldn’t possibly be true.
“-ie? Ollie?”
He blinks and Percy is looking at him, brow wrinkled in concern, his blue eyes as sharply intelligent as ever, even though the bags under his eyes seem etched into his skin. Percy’s insomnia has been one of Oliver’s main worries since first years, and now that Percy’s got the prefect position it’s only gotten worse.
“You okay?” Percy’s voice is deeper than one would expect, and slightly gravelly because of all the cigarettes he smokes. Sometimes, he’ll read out loud before they put the lights out in the dorm, and it’s Oliver’s favourite sound in the world, “You seem distracted. Well- more distracted than usual.”
He grins, propping an elbow on the desk beside his arithmancy books, and the movement makes the divot of his collarbone even more pronounced. Oliver curses whatever deity or creature Penelope must have convinced to torment him, and tries not to whimper.
“Me? Distracted? Never.”
He tries to meet teasing with teasing but it sounds too breathless to be truly convincing. Luckily, Percy doesn’t press, just shrugs elegantly and turns back to his books.
“Alright.”
Oliver goes back to staring at him over his copy of Numerology and Grammatica Level Five.
Deep red curls glow under the warm light from the lanterns, framing high cheekbones and brushing over Percy’s perfectly round ears. A delicate nose balances out a strong jaw, and plush, slightly chapped pink lips part to show a flash of pink tongue caught between Percy’s teeth.
Oliver wishes said tongue was caught between his teeth.
Fuck.
He should go back to reading. The assignment is due in three days, and reading takes him longer than it should, all things considered. Instead, he goes back to looking at Percy’s collarbones rather than his face. It seems safer. Marginally.
The collarbones are still exquisite. Oliver still very much wants to bite them. It’s still a problem.
“Do I have something on my shirt?”
“W-what?” Oliver jumps, caught, and tries very hard not to look guilty, “No. Why?”
“You’re staring at it rather intently,” Percy tugs at his collar, pulling his sweater out to examine it, showing off even more skin and causing Oliver’s brain to melt, which is why he says what he says next.
“I’m not staring at your sweater, I'm staring at your collarbones.”
In the time it takes him to realize what he said and slap a horrified hand over his mouth so he can’t say anything even more life ruining, Percy turns about twelve different shades of red, his mouth dropping open.
“You-I-my-what?”
“Nothing!” Oliver jumps up, fully intending to go throw himself into the lake and let the giant squid eat him, “I’m staring at nothing! Sorry I-”
“Oliver Benjamin Wood,” Percy says, and it’s his prefect voice, the one that makes Oliver shiver in a multitude of ways, but that also leaves no room for argument, ever, “sit down and tell me why you’re looking at my collarbones.”
Oliver drops back into his seat, shaking his head mutinously.
Percy takes a step towards him, face still glowing like the sunrise. Oliver cringes and contemplates attempting apparition even though he’s never tried before and it also doesn’t work in Hogwarts.
Then, Percy does something absolutely, entirely, completely evil. He takes another step closer and leans it, breath ghosting over Oliver’s face, and whispers, “please?”
Oliver caves.
“BecauseIwanttobitethem.”
Oliver didn’t think it was possible for Percy to go any redder, but somehow he manages it. Distantly, he wonders if he should be worried about Percy’s health.
“You…want to bite my collarbones?”
Oliver can only nod helplessly, still reeling from the feeling of Percy’s breath on his cheek, and those blue, blue eyes boring into his soul.
“Right,” Percy exhales a deep breath, and nods, his face rapidly retuning to normal except for a slight pink tinge over his cheekbones, “okay. Let’s go.”
He holds out a hand. Oliver stares.
“What?”
“Let’s go.” Percy huffs, but he’s grinning, eyes twinkling mysteriously in a way that has haunted Oliver’s fantasies for years.
“Go where?”
Is Percy going to murder him in the forbidden forest? Turn him into McGonagall for being a creeper? Sick Penelope on him?
“Back to the dorm," Percy says, like it's obvious, "so you can bite my collarbones and I can lick that freckle on your neck.”
“What?” It’s Oliver’s turn to choke. He can picture the scene, the two of them intertwined on his bed, Percy’s curls tickling his nose as his mouth drags over- nope. Can’t think of that in public, can’t think of that in public. “You- you want to lick my neck?”
“Have for ages.” Percy sighs and that- that does it.
Oliver jumps from his seat and seizes Percy’s hand, tugging them towards the door.
“Yep, alright, let's go, let’s go right now.”
Percy laughs and trips after him, casting a summoning charm over his shoulder so their books pack themselves up and follow them back to Gryffindor tower. Not that it really matters. They aren’t going to do much studying for the rest of the day, at least not if Oliver has anything to say about it. He’s got far more important things to do.
IM IN LOVE OML THIS WAS WRITTEN SO WELL IM SO IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING I LOVE OLIVERS THOUGHT PROCESS AND HOW THEYRE BOTH IDIOTS IN LOVE THANK U SM FOR WRITING THIS IM GONNA READ IT EVERY SINGLE DAY 💗
OMG thank you so much I'm so happy you liked it :)
Gonna get high for the first time this weekend i think
it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore
I have a birthmark smack dab in between my eyebrows.
@humble-introvert0808
I like it when ppl play with my hair :)
@amy-r0z3 @luv-again @d3lly1000 @reinafish @jjdrawstuff @jokerandthethief @glitch-studios @raine-ydays & anyone else who wants to join ^^
I think I have adhd and also I really like coffee (:
all my moots. if you see this and are my moot, its the same as tagging you cuz theres a lot of you guys>>>
and anuone else ofc
I love the smell of books, ESPECIALLY old ones
Everyone :P
i have this mole on my ear and people often ask if it’s a second piercing cause it’s right where a second piercing might be
@/anyyyy
i always need to have smth on/in my hands
@half-shadowgalra @icarianlibrary @spacesharks28 @anxious-introvert22 @anxious-alyssia @oopsies-maeve-did-a-thing @bluebird38 @inlovewithmyhyperfixations @sun-of-icarus @telugu-girl-13 @bookworm-fangirl1 @queenofthegays15 @/open!
i have an ungodly amount of stuffed animals on my bed and my room is always messy
oh I also like I to draw
@bookworm-fangirl1 @half-shadowgalra @silly-emo-delight @kitkat-moon @percyweasleyapologist @janeiscompletelyfine @kingstarkingslay @alwayssirius09 @allonsy-moony @thegracefulroyaltownofthesaint @the-eclipse-is-in-me @the1970sdeadgaywizard-regulus
oooo i love that.
I have an unhealthy obsession with hot chocolate and ginger ale.
@jammahanna @sweetest-thing-in-hell … its so late. Im so tired. Open tags for the rest of yall lovwly people (if your my moot please please do it 😁😁
I recently gained possession of the school elevator key and hop in thee daily:)
@lirenthenonlyrist @moonandstarshangoutinbars @m0ssywill0w
I love math so much, and I’m a tutor for it.
I’m also a pretty good cook
@aeoneskova @forensic-b1tch-aiden @aelia-posts @aceofspades42 @blueberry0409 @bibeantransbean @birdiebirdjay @clodyghost @cabbihugger @equippedtolove @guess1mjustheren0w @icrytomyownpoetry @mairon-goth-minion @mrstellmeafuckingsecret @moonandstarshangoutinbars @moonyswarmsweaters @perciverthoughts @percyweasleyapologist @skelpiescool @tastelessleather @the1970sdeadgaywizard-regulus @saturnsconstellation @residentdisaster @rainystarssx @rainystarssx @sweetest-thing-in-hell (sorry if double tagged)
outside my house is pure ice right now and I nearly fell three times walking to the bus stop this morning
Women with strong arms are like, my ultimate weakness I fear. Like I would do almost anything for a woman with strong arms, bonus points if she has tattoos. Extra bonus points if she wraps those arms around me and kisses my cheek. Just. Women with strong arms. You understand.
Wait how many of my moots are ace again?
@blueberry0409 @percyweasleyapologist @mairon-goth-minion @birdiebirdjay @icrytomyownpoetry @kawaiibarty @forensic-b1tch-aiden @savannahwiththegreenest-eyes @dontlookatmyarms @equippedtolove @danaris112 @bibeantransbean @lirenthenonlyrist @aceofspades42 @rainystarssx @perciverthoughts @perciver4ever
Gonna complain a bit on here because I can't on my other account but I signed up for a gift exchange and my giftee didn't even READ the fic I wrote them, which feels kind of disrespectful to me. I know they're active, they've posted like twelve times since I posted their gift and I worked really hard on it and idk ANY sort of reaction would be nice, even just a like or a reblog. It just seems kind of shitty to me that I put in all this work for them and they haven't even bothered to acknowledge it. Like why even participate in the gift exchange then?
idk am I being unreasonable?
I have a galentines party tomorrow and I'm looking forward to it i am, but I know there's going to be The Moment, especially because a few of the people attending are friends of friends, and they don't know me. So we're going to be chatting and drinking and dressed up all cute, and then we'll end up playing some stupid game 'sip or spill' or 'for the girls' or be sharing about exes or just chatting and The Moment will happen. We'll be playing 'never have I ever' and I won't be able to sip for any of the hookup related salacious things other people will confess to. I'll draw a 'truth' card and be unable to describe my first time because i haven't had a first time and don't particularly want one. And people will brush it off, my roommate will laugh her charming laugh and change the subject, or my best friend will crack a joke, but it won't stop the looks people will give the 'oh, you sweet summer child' look or the the 'well meaning' comments where they call me a prude in a more polite way, or the way I'll always be the boring, weird, pitiful virgin girl at every table I'm ever at, 'seriously, how is she twenty and she's never done anything'. I'll never be normal, never be one of them, and they all judge me for it even when they pretend they don't, I HEAR them, I see the looks, I know what they all think of me, and the worst part is that they're right. I'm never going to fit. I'll never have any story to share. I'll never be a 'proper' girl.
I try so hard to love myself. But fuck sometimes I really hate being ace
