An Idle Pause

Just a place to post my own fics and recommend others.

name-the-blue-rose:

gethenian:

prokopetz:

Today on Social Anxiety Theatre: mentally rehearsing elaborate justifications for completely innocuous actions just in case some hypothetical interlocutor demands an explanation.

Oh my god OTHER PEOPLE DO THIS TOO???

I had no idea this was so common. Damn.

All the time.  ALL THE TIME.

(via forianna)

Because the first time I kissed a boy I was disgusted. It happened in the last minutes of recess, behind the swings, under the creaky bridge of the old wood structure that we always called a castle. I had been told that princesses always kiss boys. I didn’t know what I was doing, and neither did he. Our small tongues like slugs, slimy and awkward in each other’s mouths.
I thought, this is love, it has to be.

Because when I was too young, a man too old told me he loved me. I didn’t know what I was doing, but he did. He gave me things: movies to make me laugh, and all the ones about ghosts, a new set of paintbrushes, a beautiful marble stamp with my name carved inside. there was a back room full of videos and the wet smell of watercolors drying.
I was carved inside.
People ask me why I don’t paint anymore.

I was fifteen, and summer was just beginning. A slow breeze was lifting the curtains. I was spooning my best friend. The two of us cupped in the soft bowl of a papasan chair, nestled like fragrant fruit ripening, curled into each other. I was fascinated by the way her hair curled soft and golden, so close to me. Close enough to do anything. There was too much closeness. I kissed the freckles at the nape of her neck. She jumped up and screamed, demanding, What the hell was that. Thinking quickly I laughed- The look on your face!
She didn’t know what I was doing, and neither did I.

Because when I was fifteen, I thought I was in love with a girl across the country whom I had never met. My mother found my diary and read it: my fervent declarations of love, pages covered with a girl’s name, covered in hearts. My mother screamed, demanding, Tell me this is not true! I said, yes, you are right, it is not true.
She knew what I was doing, and so did I.
I thought, this is love,
protection and deceit,
it has to be.

Because my first real love had a love like a strangling fig. He took and took of me, until my well was dry. And then he took my dirt and my stone walls. I was carved inside.
He said, Everything is for you. I live for you. Breathe for you. Bleed for you. I would die without you. And I will, I will.
I wanted to know, is this love?
And he said, It has to be.
I knew what he was doing, but wished that I didn’t.

I thought, all I ever know of love is blood. It has to be.

Because the first time I met you I was scared you wouldn’t like me. You said I held your hand too tight. But inside of an elevator you kissed me quick, and you laughed at my stunned face and wide open eyes. I stood there for a second after the door opened, wanting it to close,
wondering what I could do to make you do that again.

Because I know the way you hold me.

Because we talk until dawn until my throat is sore from shared secrets and quiet laughter. I made myself sick one night staying up with you. I make myself sick sometimes, glutted on longing stuck in my throat. I want to kiss your eyes closed and watch them open to see how you look and how you look at me. I want you to stop me between floors and trap me in a confined space. I want the curve of my lips along your collarbones, I want it as my first thought in the moments before knowing.

Because in the quiet pre-dawn moments I even let myself want the things I cannot let myself say, the way if you say a wish it will not come true. I don’t know what I’m doing.
I think, I am so scared,
Because I am so scared.

why I am the way I am about you 

by michi, for my bae 

(via traumachu)

Michi, you are not allowed to complain about writing bad poetry anymore.  This is very very good poetry.

(via prettyarbitrary)

Michi I… I thought this was professional, published poetry until I recognised that bit where you held my hand tight..! My heart swelled as I read on! I feel lucky every day to be so close to someone so talented, so humble, so sweet, so friendly, so pretty omnomnom

(via archiaart)

(via archiaart)

forianna:

genderqueerbarnes:

winterfucksicle:

reality-can-s-my-d:

rravenwings:

tigerstern:

goat-nird:

cupcake0kitten:

dirkfromstatefarm:

locked-out-of-heaven-castiel:

prince-of-buttsex:

kirschtein-be-bitchin:

princessofnerdingham:

smosherbandgeek:

lyrical-knight-of-hell:

castiel-knight-of-hell:

nika-victoria:

the-angel-in-a-trenchcoat:

monster in my ass

Hello, My Hunter in my ass

Hey You in my ass

Fall Away in my ass

Vegas in my ass. 

The World in my ass

Redneck in my ass

Sweet Tangerine in my ass

All about that bass in my ass

Centuries in my ass

creepy toast in my ass

sweet tangerine in my ass

Volatile times in my ass

quiet in my ass

Knives and Pens in my ass

partition in my ass

centuries in my ass

Hey Brother in my ass

The cave in my ass

forianna:

genderqueerbarnes:

winterfucksicle:

reality-can-s-my-d:

rravenwings:

tigerstern:

goat-nird:

cupcake0kitten:

dirkfromstatefarm:

locked-out-of-heaven-castiel:

prince-of-buttsex:

kirschtein-be-bitchin:

princessofnerdingham:

smosherbandgeek:

lyrical-knight-of-hell:

castiel-knight-of-hell:

nika-victoria:

the-angel-in-a-trenchcoat:

monster in my ass

Hello, My Hunter in my ass

Hey You in my ass

Fall Away in my ass

Vegas in my ass. 

The World in my ass

Redneck in my ass

Sweet Tangerine in my ass

All about that bass in my ass

Centuries in my ass

creepy toast in my ass

sweet tangerine in my ass

Volatile times in my ass

quiet in my ass

Knives and Pens in my ass

partition in my ass

centuries in my ass

Hey Brother in my ass

The cave in my ass

(Source: hyolights)

staff:

Today’s the day. The day you help save the internet from being ruined.

Ready? 

Yes, you are, and we’re ready to help you.

(Long story short: The FCC is about to make a critical decision as to whether or not internet service providers have to treat all traffic equally. If they choose wrong, then the internet where anyone can start a website for any reason at all, the internet that’s been so momentous, funny, weird, and surprising—that internet could cease to exist. Here’s your chance to preserve a beautiful thing.)

ecaftraf:

I’m not sure how to dress for this weather.

ecaftraf:

I’m not sure how to dress for this weather.