Womanspreading

You hate yourself so loudly. You hate yourself at the top of your lungs. Your loathing for yourself permeates your speech. “Sorry I’m just rambling.” “Don’t worry about it.” “Just ignore me.” “Sorry if I’m annoying you.” “Sorry I don’t make sense.” “Sorry about that.” Sorry, sorry, sorry. You act as if you have to beat everyone else to the punch. As if the punching bag is you. If you hate yourself first, if you hate yourself loudest, then nobody will hurt you. You clapped your hands over your ears and shut your eyes and balled yourself up so that you’d never have to experience people’s loathing for you. And it meant you never heard their love. You drowned it out. You screamed your hatred over it. And you never got to hear it. 

just something silly about jayce growing a mustache

"Local girl acquires new hyper fixation and her ao3 fic count reach an all time high."

luka runs cold. this is an undeniable state of fact. his body is not as… refined, despite his owner's claims that he is genetically superior compared to the rest of his peers. a younger luka had once scoffed at the thought.

superiority, he mused back then, meant nothing if he could barely lift a kilo on his own, if his own body couldn't even regulate its own temperature or maintain the circulation of his blood.

but now luka finds that he has much less cause to complain when your palms press his soft, delicate hands between the warmth of them. he likes sitting backstage before his performances, eyes fluttered close as you rub his hands between your own and murmur soft reassurances to him, a habit you've never quite managed to shake from your days of watching him backstage during his first season on alien stage.

now luka rules the stage, toying with his fellow performers' hearts and minds, but he still depends on your devotion all the same.

art by The Baby Goat

if you asked laios to send a whimper audio he'd send his whimpering dog impression and ask how you knew he could that

just cast the fire spell. dip shit

Aldera Experiences

The way orv says even the most boring, cliche, convoluted story is worth telling if it is loved. The way orv says people are stories made up of everything they've experienced and everyone they've known throughout their lives. The way orv says I love you. You are a story worth telling.