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something by me because it's april 24th and maybe i can set it down, for some of the time

“how can people sit on a train and not notice each other? how can people resist the urge to connect somehow?…can people feel my eyes on them as I do theirs on me? do we all know that we’re here in this social prison system? why aren’t we more prepared to have more fun being human beings? will women ever outgrow the scars inflicted upon them by a world ruled by men? must my fantasies be stuck working overtime?…my hair looks like shit and i’m feeling embarrassed and ugly all-around.” oh jeff

ANYWAYS HI HOW R U

(no pressure!) tags: @book-girl4eva @reyna-obsessed @that-multi-fandom-hijabi @hijabi-desi-bookworm @someonewhogotanaccount @lunabelova1122 @sapphyslittlenook @foulestbauble @desi-yearning @nerdybluehairandpronouns

no pressure @thediamondarcher @selecantjump @mqstermindswift @neck-thats-made-for-bruising @venusplanetoflove2 @clinicallyoffline @ava-taylors-version @elliedafish @jenas-lifes-library @that-multi-fandom-hijabi and anyone else!!

Tagging: @alltoounwell1989, @wonderfulpaper, @luwukass, @godriots, @n0t-an-en3my, @lapetitebabydoll, @123letsgobestie, @call-it-what-you-want15, @jade-efflorescence, and @charlotte-is-a-swiftie!

no pressure ofc @pearl-d1ver @new-november-moons @rabbit-heart11 @skylarbee @got-love-struck

poem, “there’s laundry to do and a genocide to stop,” by vinay krishnan (x). transcription in alt text

Franklin Booth.

zhong lin

practise disappearing

Academy of Athens

10 of Swords

A skeletal figure stands suspended in a moment; the end is inevitable but difficult to face. Their eyes are covered. Despite being at the end of their journey, golden leaves emerge from their head and crown them; a sign of bright regeneration. The leaves over their eyes provide a much deserved rest. Their bones are golden; their suffering is not forgotten and the ordeal only established their strength. A dark cloak covers their body, a sign of both mourning, dignity, and sainthood. The ending is painful but the card approaches it with the gentleness that might have been denied in the situation at hand. They pluck the swords from your back and carry them towards repose that will proceed to new beginnings. From a distance, the pile of swords even resembles a stack of wheat; a symbol of resurrection.