Time Travel Shenanigans!

Thank-you to all of my new Internet stranger friends for being so gracious about having my post shoved onto your dashboards. I loved reading all of your kind tags and comments! Both Martin and Bosco have been gone for several years now but for 24 hours, they felt very present in my life. I greatly appreciate this gift. ❤️

Reblog to have your dashboard be visited by the spirit of joy that death can end but not erase.

Thank you to everyone who commented in their tags or messaged me. Indeed, today is “Martin and Bosco Day”. I originally whimsically blazed this photo on 13 July 2022. I never expected Martin and Bosco to travel so far and make so many new friends. The experience has been such a gift for me.

getting characters into world-endingly intense codependent queerplatonic relationships is literally what life is all about. it is literally what we were put here on this earth to do

Love stories where the characters are trapped within their tragedies. Stories where the characters are a little bit aware of their narrative prison. Stories where being an audience member makes you complicit in their torment. Stories where the characters hate you for witnessing their suffering. Stories where they’re trapped by the very nature of the tale’s existence. Stories where the only way to save them is to stop watching.

As an aro who has been abused by those who loved me, I want to see more love as horror. Love as suffocation. Love as violence. I don’t want to hear “if they really loved you they wouldn’t have—” as if love is some pure force, some inherent good. Show me love that is evil. Love that is haunting. Love that is poison dressed up as a cure.

has anyone figured out how to turn off the thing where you love your pet so much it slides inexorably into grief-borrowing

“For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”

having a younger sibling is so embarrassing iwouldnt stoop this low for anyone but her im like quadruple texting "JUST TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO GO TO THE AQUARIUM ON DECEMBER 29TH SO I CAN GET TICKETS" and she leaves me on read 10000 times.