#this is delightful

[meraki-yao]

From Francois' Instagram Stories

[claypigeonpottery]

GRIPPING YOUR SGRAFFITO WORK IN MY TEETH AND RIPPING MY HEAD BACK AND FORTH LIKE A DOG (complementary)

“Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.” Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.” That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”

― Maurice Sendak

[assnatural]

[crippled-peeper]

photos of my kitty to brighten the spirit, if welcomed

(her name is H2O)

SHE IS ESSENTIAL FOR ALL KNOWN LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE 💕🥰💕 I love h2o

[luluahxo]

ketamine doll

short story l.hs x reader

You're in love with a miserable man, and a miserable man is in love with you.

He spits onto the pavement, head down to the floor while fumbling with his carabiner to toss you the keys of his 2006 Honda CR-V. 

When his eyes look at you it appears like a film cases his cornea. He doesn’t actually see you.

“Your makeup is pretty today.”

You ignore his compliment, catching the keys dangling them on your index. 

“I’m not driving, Heeseung.”

His pout is tempting, the way his bleached hair shadows his doe eyes don’t help in the slightest either. 

His frame is a mere echo of what it was before, muscle has dwindled into something leaner, his shirt sits too loose showing the concave of his collarbones, and the bags beneath his eyes are bolder today than yesterday. 

“I guess I can drive,” you sigh, unlocking the driver door, getting in well before Heeseung who slowly drags his body over. 

He’s rubbing his hands together over his lap in the passenger seat, slumped to the max. 

Pinching his bony jaw in your forefingers you bring his face towards yours. 

“Whats wrong with you today?”

“Nothing, nothing, baby nothing,” he rambles. 

You let his face fall back forward like a lost cause. 

The ride home is just the quiet rumble of the engine, radio static switching in between music and hosts, and the breathing of his laboring lungs. 

It feels like you walk directly on your bones as you park the car, make it through the complex parking lot and to the front door of your shared apartment.

It’s small, it’s humble, it was sweet. Once so very sweet. 

Now just walls that keep getting tighter and suffocating but simultaneously hollow and haunting. 

The only pretty thing in this place being your lover's subdued face. 

You walk onwards as you hear him kick his shoes off and throw your bag onto the couch walking straight to the bedroom. You throw your body onto the mattress, covered with a single loose sheet and two pillows resting side by side. 

Heeseung shuffles in after you, his shirt no longer on and pants falling down his hips without a belt, showing a glimpse of his boxers. He only stands at the door, watching you, before running a hand through his faded hair and coming over. The weight of his knees are shallow on the bed, but you feel it and turn over, looking up at his tearful face. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

You caress the tears running down the smooth slopes of his cheeks, wiping them away like poison that’ll taint his skin. 

“Why be sorry?”

But at your words he collapses in your arms, hugging tightly around your waist with all the energy left in his body. 

“Because I see the way you look at me, like I’m a ghost walking and speaking.”

His hair is soft in your hands, his skin is hot on your body, and your heart is thrumming.

“No, no.” you whisper.

“Yes. It’s because of what I do.”

“No, it’s because of what it does to you.”

He lifts his head, looking down at you, wet eyes spilling droplets of his sadness onto you.

“We all know it’s my fault.”

You pinch his cheeks, and watch the blood resurface making them pink for such a brief moment. 

His body crumbles in your hands and he drops his face back down to kiss you, lips featherlight on yours.

It’s so weak, so gentle. Warmth shoots throughout your jaw, deepening the kiss but remaining slow. 

But soon it’s in your eyes, and the both of you are crying, cradling each other in your arms like the tiny room will swallow you whole. And you’d rather be swallowed together. 

Heeseung’s lips move from yours to the dip of your clavicle, with that a kiss and to your fingertips each one as well. 

He feels soft. 

You’d just love to drown in his lips again, his breath, his life, his energy, his soul, his entirety. If not yours then you’re someone who has nothing, because this is the only thing you want. It’s almost a sense of jealousy you feel, that you need him so much but he exists separately from you. Even while he sits there adoring you, you still crave him. 

Just to love him. 

And his tears are yours, and your tears are his. 

You both live for this brief, fulfilling feeling. 

[ketamine doll dancing, dancing, falling to pieces. ketamine doll your rosy pretty pink cheeks are fading. you're an angel to me, i love you ketamine doll. numb, numb, number and aching]

[graveyardrabbit]

I just stumbled across a funeral home in Illinois that also operates a mini golf course from its basement. And apparently offers funeral packages that include the use of it (not during services of course) and I just felt like you needed to know about this.

ahlgrimffs.com/about-us/golf-course

I love that! I need to have my funeral reception at the funeral home basement mini golf course, I don’t care that the funeral home is all the way in Illinois.

thank you for showing me!

[rhyelm]

I am experiencing what is called "forming an opinion"