Lulu | She/her | INTP | Multifandom | Writes. Sometimes. #many musings #sm writes
38 posts
Blueboxsm - Aromantic Romanticist - Tumblr Blog
Heads Up, Seven Up
I was tagged by @darkangel319 (here)
Ahaha, that's a lot of tags there... I had a long writer block due to school and almost forgot I had Tumblr. I'm finally back to writing. This particular writing is a rough translation from my native languange of a mini short story I wrote, titled "Final Act."
Rules: Post the last 7 sentences that you wrote.
You keep your grip tight, cold metal reflecting the stage lights. Aiming in near darkness is never a problem. Not after years of experience. The bullets hiss, and when it hits, the Princess collapses on the Prince's lap. Under the dim lighting of the stage, her dress withers with blood. The red looks nice with white, you think. A scream from the prince and the theatre breaks out in panic.
Aha, I'm not sure who to tag here, this is my first time doing this... @evgenyoduvan @badeyaseptember and open tag to anyone else, I guess.
this is my magnum opus
being tired all the time is such a mystery.... is it anaemia? vitamin d deficiency? chronic fatigue syndrome? depression? insomnia?? is it just the crushing weight of being alive in a capitalist society??? someone cure me
"We're not heroes," she spoke softly, rubbing the hero's tears away. "In the end, I'm just a doctor, and you're just a human."
since I’ve now read all three out of curiosity
don’t!!! fake!!!! your!!!! interests!!!! to!!!! make!!!! someone!!!! like!!!!! you!!!!
Reblog for larger sample size
Reasons why Sakaguchi Ango is the funniest character is bsd:
1. Bro betrayed every single organization under the sun. You'll find at least one person who got betrayed by him on every street of Yokohama.
2. Managed to anger not one, but both of double black and it still alive. Insane.
3. "I can't do this work anymore. I'm going to quit." Continues to do the said work. Doesn't quit.
4. This panel
5. Probably mixes vodka with caffeine
6. I don't think he sleeps either
7. Knows Chuuya hates him. Is lowkey terrified of Chuuya. Also him when Chuuya is within sight: Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Show stopping. Powerful. Magnificent.
Do you ship them?
[]Yes
[]No
[x] I just want to put them in a room together and observe their dynamic under different circumstances and what-ifs all the while making notes like I am some kind of animal behaviorist.
once you start checking for content of The Character on more than one social media it's basically over
We visited a butterfly house the other day and I spent about an hour taking photos 🦋💖
making up oc lore: fuck yes a little guy just for me
writing down oc lore: what the fuck
Butterfly as symbol of metamorphosis from plain to beauty. Being touched by a butterfly is luck. Butterfly effect being a small change that changes the whole thing. Butterfly symbolism is cheff kiss
Now, imagine: butterflies as allegory of trauma. Butterflies looks beautiful, but some species like Purple Emperor — the male ones specifically — eats corpses. The female ones eats rotten fruit. If butterflies swarm you, you're rotten. Similarly, it also means cycle of rebirth, which can be twisted to cycle of abuse.
He was just a slip of a boy, bones protruding at odd angles—a malnourished, waifish little thing, with coal-black hair that contrasted the stark white of his skin. He moved like a frightened lamb, cautious, one foot slowly in front of the other, and seldom opened his mouth unless spoken to. He had a kind of desperation in his dark eyes that would make anyone sick with grief. Most people would turn away, feeling disgusted and guilty, but some might reach out a hand to touch his gaunt face—thumb his downturned lips, cracked and bleeding from being anxiously licked, wind their fingers into his coarse, unbrushed hair, and watch him cower away, pathetic and shivering.
Rizer was eighteen, going on adolescent.
His eyes seemed too wide for his face, only for the fact that his cheeks hardly had anything to fill themselves with, and his eyelashes were long and thick, like a girl’s; it was his one point of beauty. He wore thin, cracked glasses which slipped down his long, pointed nose. It, like his glasses, had clearly been broken several times, and lay on his face in a frustratingly misshapen way. This wasn’t the only indication of violence Rizer carried with him. He always walked with a slight limp, always had some bruise or other blossoming tenderly on his skin—today his cheek is purple and his eye is yellow, next week his eye will be fine and there will be a string of violet fingerprints around his neck while his cheek fades into obscurity—and his knuckles were always smarting. It was ghoulish, seeing such a ravaged creature walking along the street, but, nervous as he was, Rizer was used to whatever lashings he got and had adapted to live with them.
The clothes he wore were simple, plain, cheap, effective. Block coloured long sleeve shirts, which seemed more befitting of a twelve-year-old, but that didn’t really matter given his stature, and straight legged jeans, far too baggy for him. The one item of clothing he ever wore that looked like it was actually worth a dime was a dark brown leather jacket, fitting him even worse than his own clothes—he rarely wore it out, but when he did, Rizer wrapped it tightly around his thin frame and inhaled the smell of cigarettes and cheap whiskey, basking in its comfort. Perhaps it was that which kept him nonchalant about the beatings he took; perhaps Rizer Anheuser cared about familiarity, above all things.
“The subject of this poem is YOU”
The subject of this poem is you, A tapestry woven with hues anew. An enigma wrapped in mystery, A symphony of contradictions, you see. In your eyes, a universe unfurls, Flecked with stardust, the secrets it hurls. A kaleidoscope of dreams and desires, Igniting passions, setting hearts afire. Your laughter, like a gentle breeze, Whispers of joy, putting minds at ease. A melody that dances on the wind, Leaving echoes of happiness within. But there's a melancholy that resides, Deep within your soul's turbulent tides. A sadness veiled behind your smile, A burden carried mile after mile. Emotions flow like rivers untamed, An untethered spirit, forever unchained. In your veins, an artist's blood does flow, Painting emotions with every ebb and flow. Sometimes you are a tempest, wild and fierce, Unafraid to confront, to pierce. Other times, gentle as a summer's eve, A soothing presence, ready to believe. You are a paradox, a puzzle unsolved, With stories etched within, yet to be evolved. A seeker of truth, of the depths unknown, Unafraid to walk paths that others disown.
big fan of characters that are as pathetic as they are terrifying
at the end of the day it really all comes down to found families sleeping in big piles huh
making this one binary. no ghost agnosticism allowed. but explain the nuances in the tags if you want.
Cats and dogs ship dynamics are fun, but consider this: Mischievous Cat vs Stern Guard Dog. Hyperactive Orange Cat vs Tired Old Dog. Dumbass Cat Vs Smart Dog. There's so many variety, and yet the one I see most are Golden Retriever vs Black Cat.