I Love Being A Fag And A Pansy And A Fairy And A Pervert And Awhat Who The Fuck Is Egg Bacon

I guess the real glorious evolution was the homoerotic yearning we made along the way

Let’s go on an adventure.

Twisting in your thrall to Yog-Sothoth all by yourself, handsome?

yk time of dead of night when you get yourself locked out of your house and try not to freeze?

every time I see a photo of a bear it’s like. that really is the ideal animal. large. fat. virtually indestructible. vaguely resembles both a large dog and a person. absolutely could and probably would maul me but nonetheless looks extremely huggable. 10/10 creatures, immaculate

Women in Shakespeare

PSA:

Folks, if your post involves only Magnus Protocol, don't tag Magnus Archives, you're clogging the tags and possibly spoiling the show for people who've only finished Archives.

DON'T CROSS TAG. THIS IS NOT TIKTOK. THE TAGS ARE FOR SEARCHING, NOT FOR VISIBILITY ON THE FYP.

geat example of a normal curve i think

MORE OF THE WOE.BEGONE SOUNDTRACK ON SPOTIFY???

this is a win for us today here in bluster’s grove

A place for everything, and everything in its place

I hold my grief in my scalp. 

I hold it on my ears, the tip of my tongue. 

It is not always pain, more an itch. 

I scratch

But muscle memory makes me think I itch when I do not.

It is simply the act, the motion of itching, scratching, pinching, scraping.

It is not calming, it is not painful, I do not enjoy or hate it.

Instead I itch.

My sister holds her grief in her hands. 

Her elbows, her teeth.

Hers is pain.

She hates her grief and so she holds it with her fists, 

tight, but moving and flinching with her elbows.

She wants to bite it, make it painful so the hurt becomes more real.

She wants a reason to hurt.

My mother holds her grief in her feet. 

In her words, in her spine.

It is not good to hold grief in the feet and spine, it makes it much harder to walk. 

But

Unlike my sister, she lets it go, very easily. 

Pushing it away. Giving it up.

But it takes ears to be heard, to get rid of the grief. It takes thick skin, it takes silence. 

And so I hold my grief in my heart, to make room for my mother’s.