war of hearts

Body in abyss, heart in paradise - mostly fangirling, musings and cats. In love with love

[toastyglow]

it seems perhaps u cannot change and be comfortable at the same time. which is fucked up

[turnways]

Actually, yes, at some point as an adult iIt is your responsibility to learn about history and politics outside of what you were taught in traditional k-12 education

[satanfemme]

you've gotta be kind to yourself no matter what

[satanfemme]

this is twice as true in the winter

[satanfemme]

the world isn't ending and you don't need to kill yourself it's literally december. it's december. and you need to be nice to yourself.

[xenosaurus]

every time a website describes "appetite suppressant" as a feature of a type of food, i kill another hostage

[xenosaurus]

"nuts are an appetite suppressant!" BECAUSE THEY ARE FOOD. YOU ARE LESS HUNGRY BECAUSE YOU ATE FOOD.

[xenosaurus]

the diet industry is so unbelievably fucked and it’s in your fucking walls. “keeps you full longer so you don’t get hungry an hour after lunch when you’re trying to do something” is a neutral statement of benefit but no we have to treat pistachios like crucial medicine in the war against basic bodily functions.

eating disorder recovery is just getting angry over and over again because food is treated like some horrible necessary evil instead of one of the great joys of life. eat some nuts because they taste good and you are a living thing that thrives on pleasure and calories. you need both.

I need to get some sleep but in case you need to hear it: you deserve to eat. your appetite is not the enemy. if you can, treat yourself to a filling meal of foods you love today. throw pistachio shells at people. be free.

[xenosaurus]

DISCLAIMER: if you or your selected victim have a nut allergy, consider throwing rocks instead. I love you.

[grindthebones]

Guilt-free is the most evil thing I have ever seen printed on a food label.

[xenosaurus]

oh god yeah I HATE that. that should refer to things like fair trade chocolate, not “low fat”

[spiribia]

as a writer you will have a specific deck of vocab words you like using a lot and when you read other peoples' work you will see a very clear spread of different vocab words on their end. this is why you need to read, to collect other writers' words like it's a card game

[egberts]

why is everything doing a "wrapped" now? why are you self admitting to storing my data and then presenting it back to me like we are having fun. discord and youtube and whatever else do not need a wrapped

[two-wizards-in-a-trench-coat]

i think a lot of poeple think of racism and sexism as something you have to actively opt in to perpetuate rather than something you have to continuously actively opt out of if you want to maybe help dismantle it

[wizardshark]

Good morning! I- *bites you* *bites you* *bites you* *bites you*

[wizardshark]

[tim-official]

there are two competing sects on this website - one that uses the word "spicy" to mean "neurodivergent" and one that uses the word "spicy" to mean "sexual content." i do not like either of them

[anarcho-gamerist]

I use spicy to describe food

[catgirlforeskin]

my food is mentally ill and I’m putting my dick in it

[fruitviking]

Twilight

[animepolaroid]

by gelley

[officialfoxsquadron]

audiences have no idea how to be uncomfortable anymore

[officialfoxsquadron]

watch movies that make you uncomfortable read books that make you uncomfortable go to plays that make you uncomfortable watch tv that makes you uncomfortable look at paintings and sculpture and artwork that makes you uncomfortable. it is spiritually and morally and ethically and artistically really really good for you. think about why you are uncomfortable. what biases do you bring to art? what biases does the art bring to you? how do you reconcile this? how does your worldview grow and expand and change? all this and more will be answered and available to you if you just engage with art that does not coddle you and treats you like an intelligent human being that can sit through discomfort

[yuumei-art]

Many moons ago I started a flower hair series but got art blocked half way through so I never got to finish Rose Knots and Hydrangea Buns. Inspiration strikes are funny times and now I'm back at it haha

The original 4

Painting process! The full hours long videos, HD images, and PSD files will be DMed on my Patreon

[sweetlittlefantasies]

I want to bottle up the scent of love after grief

Your eyes across the dinner table

the first of many dinners

easy

soft

gentle

You looked at me like you wanted to understand my soul,

not devour it.

Your hands, learning me with reverence

fervent but hesitant

as if you were asking permission from every edge of me.

The way beginnings found us

closeness learning its shape

bodies discovering gentleness

a misstep or two

that only made us more human.

And at the same time

I see it reflected elsewhere

in another heart I know well

ease, tenderness, and hope

beginning again.

Not at a table

but in the long keeping of days.

We learned how to hold what bent.

You were the place I didn’t have to explain.

The one hand I could always find

when everything else went soft or dark.

You reminded me how joy sounds

when it comes back softly.

While I was learning how to love again

across a dinner table

we were learning it together too

in shared silences

in late nights of honesty

in the steady refusal

to let each other give up.

I did not survive alone.

How lucky I am

to carry it with me

sunlight caught

through stormy teal

and

dappled amber

so I can return to it?

[daftpatience]

drinking water when I have a headache should give instant relief. it should go away. what's even the point of drinking water if it can't do that

[armandology]

fuuuuck i just realized that the future idealized version of myself cant exist without current me being the catalyst for change and doing hard things. has anybody heard about this

[sweetlittlefantasies]

Moonlight, Again

We stepped into the night,

and you barked at the leaves

rustling in the warm summer breeze,

like old friends you’d missed dearly.

Fresh from stitches and sleep,

you blinked up at me

as if you couldn’t quite believe

the trees were tall again

and the wind had stories

just for you.

You pranced,

sniffed,

greeted every lamppost

like a lighthouse

you’d longed to see.

We walked in the quiet

me, tired and trailing behind,

you, drunk on moonlight and miracle.

You sighed.

And I did too,

as we watched the night

in full technicolor.

And for a moment,

we both believed

the world still held

a little magic

just for us.

[sweetlittlefantasies]

Revolving Door

“I’m going to have to call this, I’m afraid.”

Does your heart ever twinge when you call time of death?

Or has it grown sterile, detached, final?

Because mine still does

for every patient I’ve lost.

I wonder

does your voice ever thicken or catch?

When you said it to me, you didn’t hesitate.

Last night, I put a patient to sleep.

She was struggling, her breaths ragged,

and my heart cracked as I pushed the pentoject.

My colleague saw my face shift and said gently,

“Do you hate euthanasias as much as I do?”

She placed her hand on my back

and thanked me for doing it

for her, for the patient, for love.

And the painful part?

My first instinct was to text you.

To say it aches.

To hear you say it aches for you too.

To let you see me

crushed under the quiet weight

of doing the right thing.

But you weren’t there.

You’re not here.

Today I listened to Revolving Door.

“Baby, I tried to call you off like a bad habit,

But I keep coming back like a revolving door”

And my heart cracked again.

Because I kept trying to call us off.

Telling myself to walk away.

But I kept circling back, hoping you’d be there.

At the end of that spinning door —

but all I found was a mirror,

and myself,

asking if the pain was ever worth it.

I still think about that night.

Glasgow grey, rain thick in the air,

your arms wrapped around me.

“I’ve been waiting months for this,” you whispered.

“Finally having you in my arms.”

And I melted.

What could I have done?

I think about

you fumbling with chopsticks,

me laughing,

our fingers brushing over dessert.

I think about us

talking euthanasia,

dreams,

the unspoken weight of our jobs.

Your hand on my thigh as you drove,

stealing glances like you couldn’t help it.

When I told you to watch the road, you just grinned.

And I scolded you — half-hearted,

“Don’t land us in A&E.”

You shrugged.

“Can’t help it.”

When I finally let you in

no layers, no distance

you kissed me like you were starving.

Like you’d been starving for me.

You told me not to leave the bed.

To stay, even through the insomnia.

You patted my back when I woke.

Drove me home the next morning.

And I thought

Maybe things are different now.

But you withdrew.

The very next day.

What did I do wrong?

Was it my job?

Did I not fit the mold you had in mind?

I would have held your hand through it all.

We could’ve been each other’s respites.

Adopted dogs.

Grieved patients in the quiet of shared understanding.

Loved each other through the losses.

Instead,

my last words to you were vet advice:

“Don’t feed your future St. Bernard after a run

they’re prone to GDVs.”

That was my goodbye.

Because I keep picturing it

you rushing your dog into the clinic,

panicked,

me standing there,

unable to meet your eyes.

Breaking your heart.

Breaking hers.

Would you think of me then?

Maybe you were scared.

Maybe when you saw me fully,

you realised I wasn’t someone

you could keep at arm’s length.

Is that why you left?

Will I torture myself with that question forever?

Do you think of me

when you see St. Bernards?

/// companion piece to Exit Sign!///