Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com

Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com
Cat Gravestones Found On Roadarch.com

cat gravestones found on roadarch.com

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More Posts from Ssmtskw and Others

1 year ago
I Recently Read This Red White And Royal Blue Fanfic On AO3 Called It's Nice To Have A Friend By Mainstreamelectricalparade.

I recently read this Red White and Royal Blue fanfic on AO3 called It's Nice to Have a Friend by mainstreamelectricalparade. Guys it was so freaking adorable, I had to make some fanart for it

I would’ve tagged the author but I’m honestly not sure if they have Tumblr. I’ll just tag the fic instead

archiveofourown.org
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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1 year ago

Seven Sentence Sunday

Seven Sentence Sunday

Another excerpt from Daddy Issues (rwrb dads' storylines swapped, more snippets here & here), I am finishing and posting Claremont 2008 this week so hopefully I should finally be getting started on writing more of this soon!

Thanks to @ssmtskw @kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes and @anincompletelist for the tags!

“One you probably haven’t experienced–dating apps. Dating apps are the worst,” Raf sighed. “Guys always think it’s cool and sexy to try speaking Spanish with me. Nothing makes me unmatch faster than copied and pasted Google Translate.” Alex hadn’t realized Raf was anything but straight, though Oscar didn’t react, so he must’ve known. Still, Alex had to ask. “You’re gay?”

Tagging some of the usual friends and some people I haven't tagged before but I love to see y'all's work, no pressure as always :)) @read-and-write- @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @daisymae-12 @14carrotghoul @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @leaves-of-laurelin @celaestis1 @myheartalivewrites @welcometololaland Sorry if I missed someone's who already posted! Also if you weren't tagged but want to share, consider this open and tag me :)


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1 year ago

Last Line Challenge!

Last Line Challenge!

Not me, literally thinking about taking part in this challenge today despite not being tagged because I am utterly obsessed with the last line I wrote, and then @vanillahigh00 tagged me and made my whole day. Thank you, thank you, thank you, love for allowing me to share something I am incredibly proud of!

It’s Alex slipping every unspoken word of love on his tongue into Henry’s mouth and Henry swallowing every syllable.

Throwing out lots and lots of no-pressure tags to: @kiwiana-writes, @heybuddy-drabbles, @inexplicablymine, @sparklepocalypse, @daisymae-12, @oneofthewednesdays, @statueinthestonetoo, @happiness-of-the-pursuit, @ssmtskw, @rockyroadkylers, @cricketnationrise, @affectionatelyrs, @anincompletelist, @ships-to-sail, @indestructibleheart, @suseagull04, and @littlemisskittentoes. Share those incredible last lines!

1 year ago
You Call The Shots Babe (i Just Wanna Be Yours)

you call the shots babe (i just wanna be yours)

E || 9.9k || Dub-Con (due to intoxication)

“I wish David were here.” The sigh from his lips rustles one of Alex’s curls loosened away from under the cap. Alex’s eyebrows scrunch together and there’s a new mask edging his features. One Henry can’t quite place in his filmy headspace. “Oh. I thought… Pez said you didn’t have a boyfriend?”

The bark of laughter pulled from Henry’s throat is loud and unfettered. The kind of laugh he usually keeps hidden away or stifled behind the guard of a hand against his mouth.

“No, no. I mean yes, Pez’s right. But David isn’t–” Another giggle breaks into the words. “David’s a beagle, Alex.”

___

or, Henry gets high, and Alex is everything he's ever wanted.


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1 year ago

Hello and welcome to the first Red White and Royal Blue New Year's Gift Exchange!

New Year's? Yes. New Year's.

A lot of fandoms have Christmas gift exchanges or Secret Santa events, and while we love those, it does get a little busy in the run up to Christmas.

Plus, New Year's Eve is when the Firstprince story really started!

Hello And Welcome To The First Red White And Royal Blue New Year's Gift Exchange!

So we went with a New Year's gift exchange instead.

And what better way to start the new year than with a RWRB gift?

All gifts are due January 1st 2024, whether that's one minute after midnight (on the night from December 31st to January 1st) or one minute before midnight (from January 1st to January 2nd) is entirely up to you.

Interested? We hope so!

Sign ups are open NOW until December 1st! Head over to our sign up form and join the fun!

If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask.

Tagging a few RWRB blogs because tumblr is hiding our post from the tags. Please reblog to spread the word!

@rwrbmovie @rwrbsource @redwhiteandroyalbluesuggestions @redwhiteandroyalbluequotes @rwrbgifs @rwrbficrecs @rwrbprompts


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1 year ago

WIP Wednesday!

I was tagged by @ssmtskw and @littlemisskittentoes this time! (both your fics look SO GOOD)

I'm really excited this week because. Okay, listen. I started a new WIP. I had, like, five already, but we were talking in the server last week about how there are almost no "Alex fell first" fics, which is kind of understandable because it's hard to come up with a scenario where it would be him instead of Henry, BUT! I was thinking about it a couple days ago, and I swear, it was an actual lightbulb moment.

Everyone who's read the book knows Alex had a massive crush on Henry way before he realized it for himself, and I'm convinced that crush goes all the way back to the days of J14 magazine. I mean, come on, sneaking into June's room to touch a picture of Henry's hair? Multiple times? 😂 Alex, bless your heart, babe.

Anyway, that led my train of thought to Alex getting snubbed at Rio, and the whole concept of unrequited crushes, and then came the lightbulb moment: Hanahaki AU. I've seen a few where Henry has it, but only, like, one where Alex does. And now there will be another! This is not the kind of vibe I usually go for with my writing, but it's been fun to branch out!

It's, um, slightly evil (big whumpy angst vibes), as I have already been told several times by multiple people in the server who have seen snippets, but I'm having so much fun writing it. So, here's a snippet from my newest WIP, which will either be titled "i picked the petals, he loves me not" OR "come and meet me in my garden"

---

Alex has been snubbed by political peers plenty of times before, and he would be probably snubbed by plenty more, but for some reason this rejection had hurt a hell of a lot more than any other. His heart had dropped into his stomach when Henry turned away from him, with that look on his face like if he didn’t get away from Alex fast enough, he might give him fleas.

The thing is (and it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, even to himself), Alex used to look up to Henry. Until pretty recently, as a matter of fact.

Recently, as in, about two hours ago.

He’d always been aware of Prince Henry as a general concept. The royal family is always in the news for some reason or another, so Alex grew up seeing candid shots of Henry with his parents and siblings in magazine spreads, in waiting rooms and grocery store check-outs. But he can still remember the first time he saw a picture of Henry in one of June’s magazines where he hadn’t been with the rest of his family, just featured on his own in one of those locker-sized tear-out posters, with his name printed across the page in big block lettering and a little blurb about his hobbies in the corner. Henry had looked so bright, and happy, and full of life, and easy-going. Alex had been maybe a little bit obsessed with that picture for… a solid two years. Though his obsession with the boy in the picture ended up lasting much longer.

For all the fucking good it did him, in the end.

How does the saying go? Never meet your heroes. Alex gets it, now.

If Henry really is the reason he’s spending his evening coughing up flowers instead of getting wasted at the diving finals with his sister and best friend, Alex doesn’t know if he should be madder at Henry for being a dick, or at himself for being naive enough to believe they could be friends.

---

I think I've already seen some of these people's posts on my dash today, but I'm gonna go ahead and tag @read-and-write-, @suseagull04, @affectionatelyrs, @inexplicablymine, and @anincompletelist!


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1 year ago

Six Sentence Sunday

Six Sentence Sunday

Greetings, my dearest loves. So...I find myself in a bit of a block right now, where I CAN write, but it feels like I'm walking uphill through quicksand to do it, and I'm convinced that all of it is garbage. So if y'all have any extra special words that might change my mind and maybe pull me from this funk, I would greatly appreciate it.

That being said, I do currently have...about 10? or so different WIPs in varying states of disarray living in my docs from which to choose a Six Sentence Sunday snippet, and this one I actually did write this week, while in the throes of this Writer's Block.

This little piece is from my upcoming song inspired fic, Come Back to Me, which is a gift I've been meaning to give @thinkof-england for literal months now and is almost finished.

Thank you, as always, to those who typed my little username into their tag lists today (bless you all): @kiwiana-writes @getmehighonmagic @tintagel-or-cockleshells @cricketnationrise Y'all inspire me to keep on writing, always.

Dream scenario, be damned. The spark of Henry’s mouth on his is more than he ever could have dreamt, in a million versions over countless years. It consumes him entirely, burning away the charred remains of what was left of his heart the night that Henry left to expose the still-beating organ beneath. It’s a flood, pulling him under the waves and daring him to come up for air, a request he doesn’t ever plan on honoring. It’s the storm still raging outside the windows, a spiderweb of lightning spreading across the sky above before an angry clap of thunder expresses its impatience at being asked to wait as they dance together in the heavens, never one without the other. It’s Henry who pulls back first, breathless, pressing his forehead firmly into Alex’s and inhaling deeply through his nose, eyes closed, as if committing every detail of this moment to memory.

Putting tags out there for as many people as I can (and if you want to be added to this list, please reach out, the more the merrier). I'm always so ready to scream into all of your tags on my reblogs, so just get ready. And as always, consider this an open tag as well! Feel free to tag me in all of the things!

@adreamareads @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @daisymae-12 @duchessdepolignaca03 @gayrootvegetable @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @indomitable-love @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @leojfitz @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @ninzied @priincebutt @read-and-write- @rockyroadkylers @roseharpermaxwell @ships-to-sail @songliili @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @statueinthestonetoo @stereopticons @suseagull04 @thinkof-england @typicalopposite @user-anakin @vanillahigh00 @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @whimsymanaged @wordsofhoneydew 


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1 year ago
I'll take a quiet life
A handshake of carbon monoxide

And no alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
A shot from Safe (1995) of Carol White, played by Julianne Moore, in her suburban living room, holding a glass of milk. She is centered in frame, and stares blankly into camera
THE SUBURBS DREAM of violence. Asleep in their drowsy
villas, sheltered by benevolent shopping malls, they wait
patiently for the nightmares that will wake them into a
more passionate world.
A shot from Blue Velvet. A man lays, collapsed, on his lawn. His hose is still running; a dog has climbed on him to drink from it. A child with a lollypop wanders through the gate
And you may ask yourself, "How do I work this?"
And you may ask yourself,
"Where is that large automobile?"
And you may tell yourself,
"This is not my beautiful house"
And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife"
A shot from Little Shop of Horrors of a house on a white lawn against a blue sky. The scene has a sense of artificiality about it - the lighting is all wrong, the sky like a painted backdrop. Seymour and Audrey, in a suit and wedding dress respectively, stand in the doorframe.
I think the traditional preoccupations of cosmic horror are ultimately
charming and quaint in comparison to that endless atrophy
wouldn't it be a relief to gaze into the maw of an eldritch god once,
confirm the truth of existence, and lose your mind entirely?
At least that'd have a sense of resolution to it. At least then you
could stop pretending that everything was fine.
A shot from Vivarium. Rows and rows of identical green houses. On the roof the center one, arranged sheets spell out "HELP"
So we were lying in bed afterwards
And she asked me
What made me frightened
And I said...
I'm frightened of Belgian Chocolates
I'm frightened of potpourri
I'm frightened of James Dean posters
I'm, I'm frightened of 26" screens
I'm frightened of, of remote control
I'm frightened of endowment plans
I'm, I'm frightened of figurines
Ow!
I'm frightened of evenings in the Brincliffe Oaks
Searching for the...
Conversations
A shot from the Truman Show. Truman, played by Jim Carrey, climbs a set of stairs against a wall. Both the stairs and wall are painted like a blue sky with clouds.
Murray and I extended the range of our contemplative
walks. In town one day he went into small embarrassed
raptures over diagonal parking. There was a charm and a
native sense to the rows of slanted vehicles. This form of
parking was an indispensable part of the American
townscape, even when the cars were foreign-made. The
arrangement was not only practical but avoided
confrontation, the sexual assault motif of front-to-back
parking in teeming city streets.
Murray says it is possible to be homesick for a place
even when you are there.
Three panels from the comic Supergod. 

The first panel shows a dove flying above a home. 

The second, the dove crashing into the dome of the sky, revealed to be artificial. bubbles read: AN UNDERGROUND
AMERICAN SMALL-TOWN HEAVEN. THE KIND OF
PLACE AN ALL-AMERICAN DEADMAN WOULD HOPE AND PRAY TO FETCH UP IN.

The third panel, a white, middle-aged man stands in a pilot's uniform, drinking a beer. Bubbles read: I LIKE TO IMAGINE HIM THERE BY HIS LITTLE PICKET FENCE IN FRONT OF HIS LITTLE HOUSE, BREATHING IN THE AIR- CONDITIONING OF HIS LITTLE HEAVEN. NEVER QUESTIONING HIS EXISTING WITHOUT EATING, DRINKING OR SLEEPING, BECAUSE HE THINKS HE'S DEAD. PERHAPS HE THINKS OF THE DAY HE VISITED EARTH.
But I don't think so. But I think about it. And I think, well, I can't be. Because I'm like
you, I kinda look at the big long life ahead of me that stretches out forever and
disappears. And I get scared. And I think, "this can't be Heaven if I'm getting scared,
right?"
And then I think, "maybe I am in Heaven, and Heaven is scary."
A photograph of a 70s underground Cold War bunker in Las Vegas. It features an imitation of an outdoor suburban home, complete with painted backdrop and fake trees, cut off by the ceiling.
Ask yourself: is there something sinister in moralism?
And then answer: no. God is in his heaven. Everything is
normal on Earth.

suburbia; or the sad, quiet horror of getting everything you ever wanted

"No Surprises," Radiohead // Safe (1995) // Kingdom Come, J.G. Ballard // Blue Velvet (1986) // "Once in a Lifetime," Talking Heads // Little Shop of Horrors (1986) // Jon Ware on I Am In Eskew // Vivarium (2019) // "His 'n' Hers," Pulp // The Truman Show (1998) // White Noise, Don DeLillo // Supergod, Warren Ellis and Garrie Gastonny // 17776, Jon Bois // photograph of 1970s Las Vegas underground Cold War bunker // Disco Elysium, ZA/UM

1 year ago
[Text ID: December. This heart full of tears and of night. /End ID]
On December
[Text ID: December drips through my nerves. /End ID]
[Text ID: December’s language is imprecise grief and drunkenness. /End ID]
[Text ID: "December starts on Sunday, next Sunday / Won't you feel happier then?" /End ID]
[Text ID: It is December and we must be brave. /End ID]
[Text ID: December reigns. A smell of bread. A smell of pain. And now what will become of me? /End ID]

on december

albert camus notebooks \\ oliver herford i heard a bird sing (via @soracities) \\ charles wright the world of the ten thousand things: poems 1980-1990: "december journal" \\ nelly sachs the enigmas of night \\ regina spektor soviet kitsch: "december" \\ natalie diaz manhattan is a lenape word (via @metamorphesque) \\ renée brock streets, a song (tr. linkhorn & judy cochran)

kofi

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ssmtskw - Trace
Trace

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤao3: mttsn | they/he [+63] 22. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ| lots of fandom-related rambling.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

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