what doesnt kill you makes you go out walking on sunny days until you end up on a tree-lined street where you can look up at the gaps of sunlight and realise you miss them more than anything

mine and duncan's shared toxic trait (of many) is that neither of us would touch therapy with a ten foot pole, so when i show him Hit Houston Band Waterparks' new single Better Than Therapy off their upcoming JINX album, he just hits me with, "well yeah, no shit you're better than therapy, i'm not goin' to that shit."

talking circles on the couch, epiphanies are never found, so we just lay here making out. you can call it alchemy, call it couple's counseling, got neighbors knocking, asking 'bout the sound. i like your personality and your confidentiality, just don't be fucking mad at me when i act out dramatically. 'cause even when you panic, i'll be just as manic, crash and burn our way together to the bottom. draw you like titanic, worship you, satanic. but baby, baby, even when you're manic, i will understand it. crash and burn our way, yeah, crash and burn away. but baby, basically, i like that you take care of me, love me so much it's scaring me. yeah, you might be the death of me, but you're better than therapy.

i'm making orbiter about murdoc. fuck it.

i look exhausted. oh, stiff and awkward on the outside of the moment. it's not my first time bitter, drunk on a red carpet. or my first time losing, and it won't be my last. you said, "ignore it. oh, california's so much more than some awards show." i guess some people don't know why they're wolves, they just howl for the sound of it. some will never know they're beautiful until the crowd points it out for them. but i see you through a camera flash. i look back and you laugh. and this is hard, but i feel less far. i'm an astronaut, you're the moon. i stare at you. i sing to you. and i clutch my cloth. and i bite my tongue. i'm an aging wolf who lost the taste for blood. even anxious pups need the moon. i howl for you. i sing to you. i circle you. i circle you. i circle you. if i'm gonna lose you either way. if i'm gonna lose you either way. if i'm gonna lose you either way. i'm gonna lose you either way

three or so hours into jackpot crash course and bones is The Most Me Guy i've ever seen in my life

self insert whose title is Apathetic Vampire and whose aesthetic is victorian goth with cutesy little bat wings. he intentionally irritates her until she snaps at him, and then he says, "not so apathetic, are we?" and she says, "you're not very dreamboat-y right now, either." and she calls him Skeleton and he calls her Vampire and, whether on account of her own will or not, they become a duo because, in his words, "the undead gotta stick together, yeah?"

f/o that sleepily murmurs "you're so pretty" when you try to wake them up with a kiss, and ends up pulling you back into bed with them and kissing you all over

DASHBOARD.

you always went lookin' for an easy way out. leave the pain you can't solve with the folks you let down. like the world just restarts, like the clock just resets, like we all just move on, like we all just forget. and you tell yourself lies and disguise them as facts. it'll hurt half as much if you drive twice as fast. just when you think that the road's straight ahead is when the devil shows up on your dashboard again. look at you go, crossin' state lines with your shadow. tryna run away, change your zip code. turns out the you're just an asshole. it ain't our fault that you aren't suddenly somebody else 'cause you worked on yourself. got a dog. you're an asshole after all.