Latest Posts by crystalthevampirate - Page 2

'Evolution's just a theory' So is gravity, but I don't see you floating off to space. Just because you don't fully understand how something works, or came to be, doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

In the woods near our house everything grows in circles. There's tall trees, but no leaves on the moss and the stars cast shadows like it's daytime. I made a soup one time of the mushrooms I found in each corner of the wood. White mushrooms, with wide hats, that taste like honey and cotton sugar. The recipe was for a soup, everyone had it at my birthday party, but it was titled 'making a savior' and it's a little strange I can't seem to find my way out of our yard, where the people don't look like my friends at all..

Some days I will look into the mirror and see a stranger. Or looking back at me might be someone I've been searching desperately on another day, yet now grieve to see. It is not that I'm a stranger to myself, my soul I know, but these expressions, they don't belong on a face I'd read as mine. This form betrays me. These feet can't carry, and this voice can't say.. it frustrates me. And I search. I run these fingertips across it, sometimes enjoying bits of it, sometimes wondering if there's somehow I might mold it to better fit. But the truth is there's nothing much wrong with the body. I might admire it even, were I not trapped in it. But it doesn't feel like it should belong to me, doesn't feel right on me.

One day she walked in, and just never walked out. I'd like to say she changed my life, but it's much the same. I work at one of those old everything-stores, with the owner, who's like a hundred years old & made of steel. He owns my apartment too, so I live in it, pay=rent, and live mostly on coffee & de-shelved snacks. Occasionally I get some extra cash flipping things I find lying around & fix. It's amazing how much stuff you can carry out of parties, once you just get accepted as the guy who hauls junk around. She's the girl who makes mixtapes for her outfits. Or maybe it started the other way round, I'm not sure. What I do know is mr. Steel's place has never seen this many extravagant coats. He likes her, 'cause she wears sturdy shoes and an infectious smile. I like her, 'cause even tho nothing's changed, with her I don't feel like it needs to.

Snowed in

'Wake up' she says in the littlest voice. It's a gentle request rather than a demand, and it leaves me unable to be as annoyed as I'd sometimes like to be. Not that she uses this power overtly. Then, I think, she might soon run out. 'All right, button.. What is it?' I mutter, pushing my covers aside. 'I need to use the stove.' A quick wash-up later I follow her downstairs. The setup in the kitchen tells me exactly how urgently the stove was 'needed'. She's measured milk into a kettle with two mugs, which now sit on the counter, cocoa powder put in. A spoonful for me, three and one sugar for her, peppermint for both. She sits by in her pyjamas, frizzy head drooping. Only after we both have a steaming mug in front of us, do I address the offence 'You know, hot chocolate isn't really an emergency. I mean how early is it, anyway?' She shrugs. 'At least we'll get ya to school on time..' 'There's no school today.' I acknowledge her with a hum. Looking out the window, where white fluff is still floating around, I slowly come to the realization she's waken me, so that we could do nothing, together, for as long as possible. I point this out to her, scoldingly, but the twinkle in her eyes says she knows I'm not mad. I put the mugs into the sink with last night's dinner dishes, and pour water into the emptied kettle. I figure since we're up before the alarms, we have a few hours to waste for pleasure.

mie: *koittaa myydä tarpeettomia vaatteita pois*

tori: Valitse sukupuoli

tori: *ei anna valita kategoriaa/julkasta ilmotusta ilman sukupuolta*

mie:

Not all women menstruate Not only women menstruate

This seems to cause some confusion still, so let me crack it open a little..

Girls & elderly women before puberty & after menopause. Trans women. Pregnant people. People with menstrual disorders. Genderfluid & intersex people, who may or may not be women. Trans men. People of non-binary genders. Agender people.

Only marketing period products to cis-women causes many to feel uncomfortable & left out, and buying them (we damn need them still) can cause dysphoria & even put people in danger (see 'hate crimes') No woman I've talked to actually likes the pretty-pink girlboss -aesthetic for these hygiene products anyway. So we plead: GENDER-NEUTRAL MENSTRUAL CARE <3

She seemed intoxicated, only rather by exhaustion, than by whatever laced the cigarettes she'd rolled up that morning. One was just about to go out between her fingers. I took it from her, inhaled it back to life before tossing it onto the ground. It was weed, at least a third of it, tho the filters she used mellowed the taste.  She looked at the bud somewhat saddened. 'Seventeen', she said, drawing a little x in the air with her finger. That was way too many, but she'd been cutting back admirably for weeks, and today was a rough day.  I sighed. I swear, I thought, as who knows how many times before, if one more beloved soul leaves this wretched earth before mine, I'll cease.  I looked at her then. Knowing I could never intentionally leave her behind, I sighed again, took a seat & lit me one of hers. Enough time to be responsible tomorrow..

I made a secondary feed to be chaotic on. It'll be a deliberate mess 'till I figure out what I like to do & watcha like to see. There's over 300 of you, but I have very little engagement; now would be a great time to send in your thoughts, too.

He pressed the knife against my shoulder plate. I hissed quietly, and focused on my breathing. The glowing blade ran across my back, but the man was hesitating. I shifted. A little flinch, a drop of black..  The knife clanged on the table.  I sighed and turned to sit up. Wrapping my arms around him I grabbed the blade, and ran it lightly from his pelvis to his ear, dipping through the skin ever so slightly. His eyes were closed.  I lowered the knife to my thigh. There we drew a wandering line, cutting deeper into my flesh than was good for me. I didn't care. I loved this, loved him. Loved his blood, dripping into mine & burning my veins like my fingers burnt his skin.

self-gatekeeping, where I'm like 'I haven't been into this long enough/haven't seen all of this/don't know the people behind this -what if it's actually problematic', so I refuse to wear merch, or show fanart

I wanna contribute to fandom/s, but I don't wanna be involved with fandom/s, do you see my problem?

From now on I'll be using trigger tags #gore for graphic violence, gore & crude neutralism, and #skin for nudity & hypersexual content. These tags will be used based on descriptiveness alone, in text as well as visuals; themes such as self-harm and drug abuse might still appear without them.

I refuse to tag language for obvious reasons.

Contentwise I've been asked to tag shorts, (#a hundred words #short) and was already doing #poem I don't usually tag themes/styles.

He took the matchbox from my shaking hands and lit one. The whole thing caught flame easily. Hardly stepping away he dropped it on the ground, which sparked an immediate chain reaction.  We'd done good prepping.

He wrapped his arm around me, and I leaned into him.  It was a warm autumn evening; he had sundrops in his hair, the air smelled of wildflowers and gasoline. Running his fingers trough my hair he began humming a familiar tune, a lullaby father had taught me.  I glanced up at him, and saw the reflection of our home in his eyes. Something inside broke and collapsed. I finally dared look straight at the house. The fire had spread quickly, already eating away at the upstairs outer wall.

Smoke began to clog the view before our lungs.  He took a deep breath, and began guiding me gently toward the car. A single suitcase filled with books & paintings laid on the back seat. It was all we'd taken from our years here.  I wrapped his coat tighter around myself, as we drove off into the world outside the manor.

Twitter: Is it just me, or does anyone else *common, relatable concept*?

Tumblr: Is it just me, or do you guys *super specific abstract*?

comments: y e s

no one should be wealthy, no one should go hungry & no one should suffer against their will ♥️

Tästä on tulossa kriisi -Suomitumppu help?

Kertokaa kokemuksia, vinkkejä & faktatietoa Suomen kunnissa asumisesta. Millanen kirjasto, pärjääkö autottomana, kannattaako pyrkiä lääkäriin, onko ok fiilis käppäillä päämäärättömästi/vaan hengailla ulkona ym. oleellista :3

Kuulun sateenkaarivähemmistöön, enkä puhu mitenkään erityisen hyvää ruotsia, tai venäjää. Arvostan hyvää ruokaa, ja oon kulttuurin ystävä, (raskaampi musiikki, teatteri, historialliset tapahtumat/näyttelyt erityisesti) paitsi että aika rahaton. Plussaa kelvollisesta rannasta.

Ois myös kiinnostusta palata jonkin harrastuksen pariin, tai aloittaa uusi, jos 'aikuisille' nyt mitään sellaisia ryhmiä edes on. Ensisijaisesti näyttämötaiteet ja jousiammunta.

Lahteen en muuta

Damn, I've terribly neglected.. how could this happen!?

lookatthespeedofthoseclouds it's the perfect writing weather & I can't even

ᗰᑌIᔕTᗩKᗩᗩᕼᗩᑎ ᗩᗩᑎEᔕTᗩᗩ KᑌᑎTᗩᐯᗩᗩᒪEIᔕᔕᗩ

💚💙💜❤️💛

friendly reminder

to get your rainbow merch

from queer folk‬

💛❤️💜💙💚

listen, sometimes I just wanna drop everything & live off of intentionally obscure art

Remembering that time I wrote a bunch of cryptic shorts 'bout cannibalism.

We thought we were immortal.

We thought we couldn't be undone,

Not by anyone.

Least of all any man.

Hey! Just finished tagging most of that stuff as 'poem', so ya can find it better. I took 'poetry' pretty liberally here, but I'm sure I still missed something.. BTW the next person to follow me will be the 200. so .. THANKS <3

//stay tuned for more convenience-tags

They put on a brave face & stepped into the auditorium. Grimly realizing there was no one familiar in the room, they made their way to an empty seat as close to the door, and far from the stand as possible.

They'd decided to give finishing the course their best shot. When he walked in through the stage door however, an overwhelming sense of sickness brushed over them.

They looked at the time. 13:48. Deep breath.

He spotted them in their corner and smiled lewdly. Unwilling to give him the pleasure of defeating them, they waited. Attendance reached them. They stared at it for a moment, took their bag, and hurried away.

k̷ắ̴̧͍͚̻̙̜͓̳́̓͝ͅu̷̙̤̝̻̎͌ń̵̯̙͈͇͖͉̂̒̓i̴̢̡̩̱̾̔̑̀͋͛̇̓́̈́s̶̮͓͒͆̄́͋̚s ̶̨̣̝̩̙̉̈́̓͊͛̅́̔̒ṗ̴͕̳̝̰̟͋̈̐̄́̋͒͝ä̷̅̒̀̄i̸͚̫͉͛̓̋v̸̙̾̀͗͒̂͘͘ą̷͓̪̤̟̈̓̎́̇͑̈́̓͘͜ ̴̩̭̹̯̬͖̈́̕͜ɬä̷̌͌ń̵̨̮͚̘̀̈̆ą̵̝̘̬̳̈͌͑͋̌̅͌͐ä̷̢̧͕̣̞̣̟̹͚̓̽͂̌̒͊̊͘ͅຖ..