but it was NOT YOUR FAULT BUT MINE

and it was YOUR HEART ON THE LINE

i really FUCKED IT UP THIS TIME

didn’t I MY DEAR

didn’t I my -

of course jamie mccrimmon goes around commando, pussy out. he's trans and scottish what's not clicking

What Strength Really Means 💪

✅️ Vetted by @gazavetters {537}✅️

Hey everyone, my name is Abdelmajed. I don’t usually talk much about myself, but today, I want to share a little piece of my story.

I was born and raised in Gaza, a place that has always been my home 🏡. I grew up surrounded by my family, my friends, and the streets that I knew like the back of my hand. Life wasn’t always easy, but we had love, laughter, and dreams. I used to think that no matter what happened, home would always be here. But life has a way of changing things in ways we never expect.

Over the past months, everything I once knew has disappeared. The streets that were once filled with children playing are now silent. The houses that held so many memories are now just rubble. And the people I loved—some of them are gone forever. 💔

✅️ Vetted by @gazavetters {537}✅️

girl who finally is going back to reading by finishing one book: now i'm going to read all the books in the world.

the best kind of ships are the ones that have something aromantic going on

CARDIGAN — Taylor Swift, 2020

"Oh don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me-" Shut Up and Dance by Walk The Moon

credit for artwork shown in order: @fleureia on tumblr, @artbychromo on tumblr, Polarts on twitter, @szczurherbacany on tumblr, @foxdoodles on tumblr, Noa.svo on instagram

If I got any credit wrong please let me know!

Tiktok

Wylan: “One of the very special parts of being in a relationship with someone from a different culture is that they’ll have different traditions than you.”

Wylan: “However, here’s some good dating advice, make sure you look up those traditions first.”

Jesper: “It was Sankt Pádraig’s Day! You weren’t wearing green!”

Wylan: “You don’t pinch a man’s ass out of nowhere, in public, Jesper Llewellyn Fahey!”

Experiments with a style, again

I'm so tired I just can't do full art, just smth a little sketchy

before odysseus left for troy, the man was scarcely seen without his infant son in his arms. telemachus fit perfectly against his chest, nestled close to the king's heart. the gleam in odysseus' eyes couldn't be mistaken for anything but pure adoration, and he wore his love for all the world to see.

twenty years later, when the king finally returns to his island, his son is no longer an infant. the suitor's blood smears every surface of their home, and pallas athena's presence lurks just beyond, but the world fades away entirely as they take each other in.

one thing is clear as day: the prince is too big for odysseus' arms to hold comfortably– too tall to rest neatly against him.

when telemachus' knees give out from beneath him, strength leaving with a strangled cry, odysseus stumbles forward and tucks him into his chest anyway.

the prince rests his cheek near his father's heart in a gesture impossible for the boy to remember but one the king recalls with perfect clarity. many nights, he lost himself to tears, pressing his hands to the same place. twenty years of pain, of longing to feel the warmth of his only child.

odysseus threads his fingers into his son's curls, strands as soft as a bird's downy feathers. "my boy," he whispers reverently. "my dearest telemachus."

the sob his son chokes out sends a wave of agony through him, more painful than any wound. every shake of the boy's shoulders stabs directly into his heart and every stifled wail twists the knife. the king can only hold him tighter as they cry, twenty years of grief falling through their bodies and shattering all at once.

i like to laugh and joke but always remember that i am damned