move to @jupitersnake
ojovivo

izzy's playlists!
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Peter Solarz
i don't do bad sauce passes
AnasAbdin
DEAR READER

JBB: An Artblog!

blake kathryn
No title available
art blog(derogatory)
Mike Driver

⁂
occasionally subtle

No title available
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Discoholic 🪩
$LAYYYTER
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
🪼
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Serbia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates

seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from United States
@theysnakes
move to @jupitersnake
this blog has moved like for url if you’re still interested.
What did your love give me? A taste / of disaster… A waste of ruins,
Bella Akhmadulina, from Fever, and Other New Poems; “Farewell” (via luthienne)
i am going to slowly be trying to make my back on all my blogs.
𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊. here come the whispers , the rage of years of being procured, less man more instrument of savagery. pull back the skin , die and then be reborn. you are a sickness never wanted , and you push a morass of aftermaths to coil over the words you want to speak. he is kind now , he stands close now . but truth be told you are nothing to him but a days’ worth of warmth. you make him god , and he spits back in your face you are nothing after all. so you try to keep yourself simple , and you bite the inside of your desire’s cheeks. fighting your past through the contorted shapes of your viscera. today, tomorrow , forever you will be judged the silent pawn wired to the white man’s schemes. you are the broken , the suffocated and the used and if you cannot accept yourself how will anyone else?
_________ “𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭”
but do you really? can you ever see yourself as human when every hand that has been put out to you has wanted to remold you? when every syllable you count from another persons mouth has wanted to enforce a bending , or do you just wait until your can kill yourself?
@hismanners asked difficult thing, to be scrutinized so long
RICHARD SIKEN / WAR OF THE FOXES Change pronouns as necessary and tweak sentences as appropriate!
I am faithful to you, darling.
When you bang on the wall you have to remember you’re on both sides of it but go ahead, yell at yourself.
Some people don’t understand anything.
He’s easy to desire since there’s not much to him.
No one wants to know what’s in his head.
To make something beautiful should be enough. It isn’t. It should be.
You’d break your heart to make it bigger.
Will you defend yourself? From me, I mean.
Let’s kill something.
I prefer to blame others, it’s easier.
All these ghosts come streaming down and I wish I had something else.
We all move forward anyway. Ripples in all directions.
What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.
All thoughts finish themselves eventually.
Can we love nature for what it really is: predatory?
When you have nothing to say, set something on fire.
I wanted to explain myself to myself in an understandable way.
Something’s not right about what I’m doing but I’m still doing it.
The enormity of my desire disgusts me.
Look away but I’m still there.
Want something to chase you? Run.
Take only what you need.
Never finish a war without starting another.
I’ve seen your true face: the back of your head. If you were walking away, keep walking.
The fear: that nothing survives. The greater fear: that something does.
All these things and what to do with them. We carve up the world all the time.
I like dead things. They cannot hurt me.
We like things related to our survival: soup, arrows - they expand the range of the species.
My body is a graveyard.
People like to think war means something.
Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other. We know who our enemies are. We know.
There are many loves but only one war.
You will need to comfort him, or we will never be finished with this.
You cannot have an opponent if you keep saying yes.
Its roots in the ground and its branches in the air, a tree is pulled in two directions.
The boy is a bird, bad bird. He falls out of trees.
You cannot get in the way of anyone’s path to God. You can, but it does no good.
Some say God is where we put our sorrow.
In the wrong light anyone can look like a darkness.
What can you know about a person?
Difficult thing, to be scrutinized so long.
Even when I look away I am still looking.
Everyone secretly wants to collaborate with the enemy, to construct a truer version of the self.
How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?
Why build a room you can live in? Why build a shed for your fears?
There wasn’t much left but it felt like him, wild and scared.
The best part of spirituality is reverence. There are other parts. Some people like to hear the sound of their own voice.
If you don’t believe in God, then who are you talking to?
But truth doesn’t count in law, only proof.
Was I discovered or invented? Feels like I’ve always been here.
Measure yourself against the truth and not the other way around.
Perfect and completely dead.
People don’t learn anything unless they are afraid of being left behind.
Logic is boring because it works. Being unreasonable is exciting.
I am your arrival, there is no refusal, we are here, you see, together, we are already here.
This is also part of the story: how the story changes. This is something I forgot to tell you.
You might like it here. I think that you might like it here.
I tell you these things because I love you.
It’s nothing like I thought it would be and closer to what I meant.
Maybe we will wake up to the silence of shoes at the foot of the bed not going anywhere.
It reminds me of where I was going without you.
You know what it’s like to be alone: gimlets and vermicide. You know what it’s like to be alive, so forgiveness.
You asked me once, What are we made of? Well, these are the things we’re made of.
I turned my ears in all directions. I’ll live alone or in between.
Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.
Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything.
I live in big spaces, so I’m left alone in big spaces.
We made ourselves cold. We made ourselves snow. We smuggled ourselves into ourselves. Haunted by each other’s knowledge.
To hide somewhere is not surrender, it is trickery.
I try to guess your trajectory and end up telling my own story.
I surrender my desire to be healed.
Take it or leave it, and for the most part you take it.
Shame comes from vanity. Shame means you’re guilty, like the rest of us, but you think you’re better than we are. Maybe you are.
There is no new me, there is no old me, there’s just me, the same me, the whole time.
Don’t try to make a stronger wind, you’ll wear yourself out. Build a better sail.
You want to solve something? Get out of your own way.
What’s the difference between me and the world? Compartmentalisation.
I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love.
I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary.
I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad. It’s too much work.
I mean, maybe it’s better if my opponent wins.
What happens when I no longer want to meet you?
Nothing lasts forever: we know this.
Longing and suffering? Of course, of course. You want it to mean something.
You can disconnect it or you can try to glue it all together.
We could pull it apart, spend our whole lives pulling it apart and have no time left to do anything smart with the pieces.
The sooner you embrace it, the sooner it will leave you.
You are what you cover up.
Noise and more noise. Noise up to heaven.
One wonders why a story like this exists.
I want to give you more but not everything. You don’t need everything.
Someone has to leave first.
He was pointing at the moon but I was looking at his hand.
All this was prepared for me. All this was set in motion long ago.
I stayed as long as I could. Now look at the moon.
What does all this love amount to?
𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍. firstly he is a bit younger and secondly, he wasn’t recruited but bought off his parents after a higher ranking kingsman official saw that he was good at tinkering with items at the age of ten from the streets of pakistan. in that, he was brought back to england renamed and taught the kingsman work. he is a quick study in the terms of gadgetry and teaching and therefore yunus becomes joesph and then merlin ( a name not only know in myth , but also meaning sea fortress to which he becomes as the kingsman are a sea of individuals on to whom he is a fortress as he guides them through missions.) the merlin before him was disposed and he at the age of 23 became the youngest ever. he has self-hatred for where he has come from and who is , which is heightened by the fact that some fellow kingsman tease him about being a street boy, a colonized boy and that damages his relationship with his culture. there was one person, an agent 15 years older than him that would call him by his real name and treat him as an equal that would fall on to the idealizations of merlin, he would become a figure that merlin would love but would soon leave his life under certain unknown circumstances, on top of that due to the mine that exploded around him in the second kingsman movie merlin is dealing with memory loss , and physical issues that have left his journey to find the name and the man himself a whisper that haunts him. therefore becoming his mr. x . in regards to relationships he did have one with harry hart but it was short lived, in that the other didn’t see him more than a friend whereas he had come to find deeper feelings for the other as both a subsitiute for mr. x and also a person in the same way of life as him. leading to them keeping each other at arm's length and only interacting during missions.
so merlin is currently 37 years old , and is learning to relearn his culture , language , and religion it's a hard path though. he has spent time trying to rip the color of his face an abuse coupled with starvation when he wants to feel in control or punish himself for doing something not right. he is currently only really close to the newer recruits that includes roxy and eggsy, and had a great deal of mistrust for the older leadership because he thought them overly-cunning and secretive. he has just come off of 6 months medical leave and is splitting his time between kingsman and trying to find out who and what mr. x was to him and that puts a bit of issue between him and kingsman because he is starting to feel closer to that than his work at the organization.
horror blanks your eyes and you submerge to filter breaths, with your body pressed against the floorboards. matching with viscera caressed into a complete surrender. with two faces, one your father’s the other an embodiment of what you must do. both keenly watching you undress, something odd on the rope of your back, leaving undercurrents in the nails of your fingers and eyes bent down. you do not see but you are becoming a slaughterhouse. an idependent multi-muse written by red.
merlin has a tendency to starve himself as punishment. food is one of the few things besides technology that he has control over and so its something he does when he is disgusted by himself.
so i should do a post about how different my merlin is from canon merlin . cause he is really different
my family is in horrid financial condition . my mom , who is the only person who brought income in and she hasn’t been able to work for almost a year because of her back and the two surgeries she’s had , and another one coming up . she’s selling plasma for money , getting a few donations from friends but it’s not enough . i’m on disability and can’t work , can’t do anything but THIS . my friend helped me set up a page to show what i’m offering commission wise . PLEASE consider buying something or at least reblogging this . thank you .
you can find the page here .
I'll be on soon. Going to the mosque
I highly recommend following this magical cinnamon roll.
By evening’s end, I let him have it: twenty-seven kisses on my neck, twenty-seven small murders
Small Murders, Aimee Nezhukumatathil (via champgn)
clevergrl:
@theysnakes wanted some love from this starter call <3
it’s hard some days. a lot of days really, it’s hard enough that she finds herself walking down the street that it happened, the same path he took. she walks past his apartment, through the park, past their bench, and finally ends up on the sidewalk that’s next to the street. where they last talked. the memorial is still up, underneath the awning, letters to and pictures of him spread out across the board. their fingers reach out and trace the face of his picture, a lump forming in their throat.
the rest of the world fades away. they don’t notice the stranger next to them.
𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝙱𝚂𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝙸𝚃 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙸𝙼, 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝚄𝙻𝚃𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙱𝙻𝙴𝚂. he is a touch of sunlight , a flower cherished , and a sweetness curling the tongue on words that matter. he has watched her pacing , saw her trying to bring the dead back out of which she walks into and it tugs at him like 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠. he is delicate in pulling her attention from her sorrows and places attention on something insignificant yet at the same time wholly important. ____________ “𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖚𝖑 weather we have today?” he doesn’t look at her until he’s made his point , waiting for her to reply.
DIOR ss 1998.