Tbh The Only Proof I Need That Taylor Swift Likes Women Is The Fact That She Owns A Tumblr At All…

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH:) i’m so excited to celebrate my first pride month where i’ve actually come to terms with the fact that i’m bi. women are fucking amazing!! and i’m not going to be ashamed for feeling that way.

yes i am crying this is SO good. it literally could’ve been written by Jandy herself this is.... wow.

I’ll Give You The Sun (unofficial scene)

My skin prickles with excitement or maybe it’s just fear. I don’t know. My legs feel like lead that I have to keep lifting high enough to take each step. My hands are clammy and it’s not even that hot. My chest feels like a piece of wood the nail is being driven into. The words keep appearing in my head over and over : I’ll be there. Was he messing with me? Brian isn’t someone who’d do that but how could I know that. I haven’t seen him for years. For all I know, he would have drastically changed. But here I am, finally getting to see, repenting for my mistakes and hoping…maybe hoping there’s a chance for another.

The woods seem like they’ve changed, as if the trees simply sprouted legs and changed places. Maybe they know something’s happening today. They’re watching me, every move, every breath. Every single day without fail, I’ve been here, been within the envelope of this sanctity. Today it’s like breathing fire. Jumping off Devil’s Drop seems like a much better option.

I imagine being at CSA, painting and drawing behind a canvas. Would it feel as liberating as it used to be? The pressure to be perfect would begin to grow, it might not feel like second nature. It’s been so long since my hands have created. I look down at my hands, the lines that run along my palms, and the shapes of my fingers. It’s been so long. I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet. Jude’s jealously might have been a good thing after all. It loosened the screws for me, released the tension that made me want to be better than her, better than others, to be the Michelangelo of art. I’m me now. I’m my own person. I’m Noah the artist now. Not Picasso the artist or anyone else, wanting to be better and perfect.

I lean against a tree and breathe in the forest air. My fingers curl around the rock in my pocket, the one Brian gave me years ago on the rooftop of my house. One of his broken meteors. In the distance is CSA, the back of the studio crowded by the trees. I decide to visit it sometime, it holds memories after all. Memories of Oscar. Huh. I snort. Oscar. Jude somehow managed to find Oscar amongst every other guy who lives here. Oscar of all! Oscar bloody Ralph! That’s where I got to know Brian too. Brian who watched me swear like a madman and sit outside the studio for a very long time just so I can have classes. It’s embarrassing every time I remember it.

I start to wonder about him, what he might be like now. Maybe he’s tall, like really tall and funny and smart and popular and just Brian. He was all those things before and maybe he’s a better version of all that now. He’s coming to meet plain old Noah. I’ve created a wall of lies around me, everything I’ve done and pretended to be, all lies. Perhaps he might not come after all, maybe he’ll think it’s a waste of time, there’s absolutely no reason why he’d want to see me anyway. It’s stupid. I’m stupid for thinking we might have something. I’m stupid for wanting him after all this time.  He could’ve found someone at Stanford. Someone who’s not a weird, fake Picasso. He doesn’t need to see this lying version of myself.

There’s a moment when I feel like I need to leave, to pretend this never happened but it’s like I’m stuck here. The trees won’t let me go just yet. I can’t get up to leave but my stomach is squirming with every minute that passes. It was a crazy idea to send him drawing after drawing from my invisible museum. What was I even thinking? At the time it felt like the only way to get through to Brian, to apologize, to show him how I feel. Now it feels like I’ve made a mistake. What if he didn’t like any of the art? But then he wouldn’t say he’d be here. But he could also be taking the piss at me.

If mum had never caught us that day in the bedroom, I wonder if this would be different, if we would be different. Brian might have stayed for a long time. If that stupid closet game hadn’t happened, then I wouldn’t have avoided Brian, everything would’ve been right, mum would’ve never caught us, Brian would be here. Nothing would’ve gone wrong. But things always go wrong. We’ve got a knack for bad luck.

The leaves stir and the trees yawn, and I drag my gaze towards them. Jude had given me the trees for Oscar, not just the trees, everything but the flowers. She sacrificed almost all of her world for Oscar. I know…I can feel their love like a thick string that won’t break, that rolls longer, the distance they part. I want that with Brian. We have something too, I know we do. I wouldn’t be wanting him after so long if we didn’t. I remember mum’s words. Stay true to your heart, she said. I wonder if she’s here, watching me waiting for Brian. I wonder if she’s smiling with Grandma Sweetwine. Only Jude would know. Jude sees their ghosts.

When the light seeps through the forest, getting sucked away to another part of the world, and paints the sunset as farewell, I begin to grow anxious. I was an hour early, to calm my racing heart and to get my wits together. I wanted to be the first one here. I hadn’t brought a watch but I know it’s a little bit past five o’clock. Would he have kipped out like this? The Brian I knew wouldn’t, but I know nothing about the Brian now. It’s still too early to panic or feel disappointed. I can’t help it. I pull out the brushes and start painting in my head. I paint the Brian I imagine him to be now.

I paint an angry Brian, squinted eyes, turned lips and red cheeks, tossing a single rock in his right hand. I paint him in colours after that, lots and lots of colours that speak his soul. The rocks lay by his feet, floating and the colours that flood out of him like waves are dotted with stars. He is the stars, he is everything this world has to offer in this thick haze of untruths and alienation. How cheesy. This is something Jude would think although it seems like we’ve switched personalities over the years.

Leaves crunch underneath heavy footsteps and everything melts in my head. I drop the brushes, I throw the canvas and I am standing up with frantic fervor, wiping my hands on the bottom of my jeans. My stomach drops, turning uncomfortably with each breath held moment.

He appears like a blinding star and the trees move to let him through. His flaming hair has been cropped short, exposed. He’s grown taller and broader around the shoulders and I can only imagine what I must look like to him. I am tall and big but not as big as he has grown to be. He smiles but I stare at his squinty eyes, my favourite part of him. The closer he gets, the shorter my breath becomes. There’s no bounce to his steps anymore, there’s no bag of meteorites in his hand like I kept imagining him to be.

“Hi.” He greets. I drop my gaze and kick at a stone. The familiar sound of his voice reminds me of old times. 

You haven’t changed. I scoff, in my head at least. I have changed I want to scream at him, I have changed because of you but none of that matters anymore. All that change is built on a foundation of utter lies. “Hi.” I say instead, hardly breathing at all. Are my lungs even working?

It’s like the world has stopped spinning the moment Brian steps into my circle. I remember the day he threw stones at Zephyr and Fry, the day when it felt like he was on my side, a freak like me, revolutionaries. I don’t know if we’re still the same anymore, maybe somewhere deep. I know he’s changed a lot of things but he’d been brave and strong. He became who he is inside by not being a coward, but me, I am one. Who I am inside isn’t who I am on the outside.

“You’re quiet.” Brian flicks at my shoulder. I wonder how he can smile after everything I’d done. He doesn’t look mad at all.

“I’ve always been quiet.” I tell him. He laughs.

“Not in your head, you’re not.”

It makes me look up and I am immediately entranced by his copper eyes, bright and shimmering like the stars that fall out of his bag. “I thought you’d be mad.”

“Why?” I watch his hands slip into the pockets of his trousers. There aren’t any pockets on me. I can’t do anything with my hands, I let them hang by my sides, hoping I don’t do anything stupid.

“You know why.” This whole thing is making me feel weird. Why had I even agreed to this? Jesus. I’m going to mess this up real bad. Where’s effing Clark Gable when you need him? “How–how have you been?”

He shrugs, moving his hands in his pockets. “Good I guess. Stanford’s pretty good. I’m sure you’ve heard of–stuff.” Of course I have. I don’t tell him that.

“I’m sorry. I missed you.” Is all that comes out of my mouth. My mouth needs a jail, not my hands. I should be apologizing more. He should be getting mad at me, yelling even, fists flying. We should be talking about what’s happened in the past few years of our lives and what not. Not about how I’m missing him. I know he does too. Nothing seems to matter in this bubble of mine he has stepped back into. I can’t even pick up the brushes in my head. I am too focused on his eyes, the way they move and change colour, his lips and the space between his teeth.

“You know,” He says, moving closer and prompting me to take a step backwards. “I’ve missed you too.” I gulp, watching his hands emerge out of his pockets. My chest is thumping like a freaking jack hammer. I remember the two boys at the party. Is it going to be us again? That same feeling under this same tree? What if it doesn’t feel the same anymore? Not even that stupid bird is here to yell Where the hell is Ralph? anymore. In my head I ask him if he’s kissed anyone else, another boy and if he liked it. In my head he’s saying yes, nodding.

His hands rest against my chest and I back against the tree. Why is it always a tree? We could kiss on Devil’s Drop. Wouldn’t that be ironic? I laugh in my head. My stomach churns. His hands are big and warm. They sear through my shirt, through my skin, touching the red, beating thing in my chest. He breathes in my face. I breathe on his face. I wonder if my breath stinks. I should’ve popped a mint or something. His smells like chocolate.

And then I’m kissing him. Hard and frantic. My head explodes with fireworks, the type of fireworks that are colourful and not burning. Brian is all over me, his hands, on my back, in the loop of my sweatpants, underneath my shirt. Mine are shakily pulling at his hair, trying to merge into him, become one. He feels like the stars, a kind of chilly comfort.

I remember the way it felt to kiss him the first time. The colours flowing in splatters and the urge. We tremble, kissing like kids with pathetic crushes or more like lust. Huh. No one can know. Ever. I remember it again. This time it won’t matter if they know. I stumble but before he can question I pulling him into me, my back against the tree, pulling and pulling. I tug at the hem of his shirt, sliding my hands under and over the hard expanse of his stomach. Effing Clark Gable! A shuddery groan escapes my mouth. I feel embarrassed. He’s doing it to me now. All those thoughts. Millions of endless thoughts. I hadn’t said it the last time.

What if he leaves again? He squeezes my narrow hips. “I love you.” I breathe.

Everything slows. His hands cease to touch me. Mine slips away from him. But there’s not an inch of space between us. Now would be a good time for someone to come barreling through. But then he smiles, a knowing grin. Fucking jerk. He pulls me by the collar of my shirt and goes, “It took you so fucking long.”

i have to dress and act super straight all weekend to impress my sisters boyfriends family. feeling drained already :/

at least we are under the same sky.

MOTHER’S DAY 🔥🔥🔥

not to be confused with taylor swift’s birthday, which is december 13th, 1989.

i want to punch you

and punch you

and punch you

until i’m too tired

to do anything

but collapse into your arms

this is amazing.

In All My Naked Glory

Based on this request: Also! “Oh, did he not tell you about that? He’s seen me in all my naked glory.” (Feat. Oscar and Bryan) [or something like that]       

It was a particularly hot day; the sun was bleeding golden ichor in the cloudless azure sky. The streets were violent with heat, sweat stuck to skin, and so did clothing, glued to a body and irremovable. It was a thick kind of heat, one you could take a slice out of and spit out. Everything felt ten times heavier, and the rush of the city made it all a thousand times worse.

Brian’s air conditioner had broken.

           Just his luck as well, because the news reporters were starting to say it would be “the hottest of the year” or “a blistering day, crank that A.C!” Of course, soon the heat from the television leaked into the room, drenching everything in sticky humidity. After stripping down to his underwear and sticking his head under the cold water of the sink, Brian received a message.

           Noah: Dude, it’s so hot out.

           Brian ignored the bubble of excitement bursting in his belly as he read over the message. He let a smile cross his face as he shook out his hair, which had grown long in the past few months, long overdue for a chop. However, every time Brian thought about the barbershop, all he could think of was Noah saying, “Your hair is like a super nova, it’s absolutely killer to paint!” And Brian imagined he could suffer a while longer with the hair.

           However, this heat was beginning to add weight, and he found it hard to keep his head up. He opted to shoot out a reply, hoping something good would come out of this bone-crushing hotness.

           Brian: I know, my air conditioner just broke. I think I’m melting.

           He towel-dried his hair as he stared down at his phone, willing Noah to type out a visionary masterpiece, which would mostly entail, “come over, and let’s make out.” Or something along those lines.

           Brian didn’t reckon it was love, more that it was…

           No, never mind, he figured it was love.

           Of course, right as his heart was pounding and his mind was racing, Noah was about to force him into insanity, his phone buzzed. Brian jumped at the noise, reaching across the counter. His hands hungrily snatched at the device and his eyes read the message with just as much fervor.

           Noah: Sounds like you’re really suffering. Our place has got A.C. if you’re into that.

           Brian answered without a second’s white, his mouth bursting into a candy-coated smile.

           Brian: Is that an invitation?

           And not even a moment later.

           Noah: Yes it is.

           Brian burst into a super nova, his light bouncing through the room, destroying everything in its path. He flew to his room, cutting through the dense air with a machete. He practically pulled his drawer off its hinges. He ripped out a pair of paint-spattered shorts (thanks to Noah, of course) and a Stanford Baseball shirt. Then, in an explosion of electricity, he sprinted out the door and down the street.

           He travelled as fast as a comet towards the Sweetwine’s shared apartment. He pushed past people, his excitement fighting off the heat of the day. He surged into the apartment building, and the doorman offered a grunt and a nod.

           Brian flew up the stairs, jumping through galaxies to reach Noah’s apartment.

           And suddenly he was there, and the door was flying open.

           “Picasso! Your friend is here!” A tall, accented bloke with an eruption of dark hair similar to Noah’s (although not as artistic, Brian noted) opened the door. Brian immediately noted his choice in wardrobe: black skinny jeans, black biker boots; black t-shirt, and black leather jacket.

           “Thanks Oscar!” An all too familiar voice called. Brian’s heart swelled with excitement as he watched an awkward figure bounce through the room. The biker with hair not quite as good as Noah’s left the doorway with a chuckle. Brian watched Noah walk over. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that had once been white, but was now drenched in every color possible. His skin was spattered with paint, making him even more of a masterpiece than he already was. His hair was a nest of unwashed curls atop his head, which he somehow managed.

           “Brian!” The excitement in the smiling boy’s face radiated across his body, radiating across the planet. Brian suspected every person in the world felt a few degrees better as Noah’s smile grew. Brian smiled back and was soon smashed into a too-big hug that touched him in all the right places.

           “Get a room, boys!” Jude called from behind. Immediately the two best friends parted, sharing smiles and blushes and odd little “I’m sorry’s” and “you look good” and such. Jude cackled from behind, an absolute vision with an ocean of blond hair dressed in a dress of her own creation. She was sitting on the couch, the tall, foreign boy right beside her, arm draped over her shoulders.

           “Ah, I seem to have forgotten,” Noah noticed the tension building on Brian’s face. “This is the ever-wonderful Oscore, Jude’s ‘bad boy’ boyfriend.” Noah explained with a smirk. Jude fell into hysterics at that.

           “What?” Oscar asked, a smile spreading across his devilishly handsome face. “Listen, I’m worse than you lot combined.” He added. “I am quite the bad boy boyfriend, thank you for the introduction, Picasso.” The Brit spat out the brunette’s nickname. Noah chuckled and Oscar turned his gaze to Brian. “You must be Brian then? Right, I’ve heard a good amount about you.” Oscar gave Noah a pointed look. Noah went bright red and Brian fell into the cool abyss of confusion.

           “What?”

           “Nothing!”

           Everyone stayed in silence for a moment, until Jude saved the day, as she seemed to be constantly doing.

           “What are you working on then, Noah?” She asked. Noah’s face got that starry, far-away gaze that he tended to get any time he talked about art. Brian found it endearing, cute even.

           “I was doing a cubist take on a painting I had done a few years back, but then I thought of this absolutely gorgeous realism painting I saw a few days ago, so I did a bit of a twist on that I suppose.” Noah absent-mindedly grabbed Brian’s hand and led him to the coach. Brian felt heat flood between the two; he didn’t want to let go. “It really is just an extraordinary concept, you know.” He babbled on.

           “No more naked pictures then?” Oscar’s face turned to a mischievous grin. Noah’s own went bright red. “That was years ago, remember that Picasso?”

           “Yes, you talk about it every time you get the chance.” Noah answered shortly. Brian was confused, as usual.

           “What is going on here?” He questioned, the room bursting with tension.

           “Oh, he hasn’t mentioned it?” Oscar nodded towards Noah, who was giving the older boy the death stare. “Yeah, that odd bloke over there has seen me in all my naked glory.” Oscar explained. Jude burst into another bout of laughter, and Noah sank lower in his seat.

           “What!?” Brian cried.

           “Defensive boyfriend, are we?” Oscar asked, his fingers intertwining with Jude’s. She let out another giggle as the two boys sputtered out excuses and defenses. “Oh can it, there’s obviously a lot of romantic tension, it’s smothering me, in fact. Why don’t you two just fuck and make us all feel better, aye?”

           “OSCAR!” The twins cried. Jude swatted at his arm and Noah jumped to his feet. Oscar had his hand wrapped around Jude’s, the smile on his face slowly growing.

           “Picasso likes you.” Oscar sprinted out of the room, Jude following close behind as the two turned into volcanoes of laughter, joy trickling from every inch of their bodies.

           “OSCAR-“ Noah began, jumping to his feet.

           “You-you like me?” Brian muttered, looking up at the frazzled brunette. Noah turned to Brian, his eyebrow arched in confusion as his lips set in a thin line. He seemed to be questioning Brian’s question, leading into more confusion.

           “Well, yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious, or, Oscar told me it was anyways.” Noah shrugged. Brian stared down at his hands for a moment, his body a rocket of happiness waiting to take off.

           “But-but I abandoned you…” He thought out loud.

           “And I did something even worse. Listen, you don’t have to return the feeling or anything, it’s just-“ But Noah left his thought unfinished, because the rocket had exploded and Brian was on his feet, racing towards Noah at full speed, and their lips met on a collision course.

           A few moments of breathless, airless, thoughtless moments passed. Hands roamed bodies and mouths moved in harmony as the two boys made up for years and years of lost time, years and years of disappearances.

           “But I ruined your-“

           “Noah, I ruined it. I ruined everything.” Brian muttered, cutting the Rafael-like boy off. “We were both dumb, deal?”

           “Deal.” Noah responded in breathless wonderment, his eyes painting galaxies across Brian’s body. “Oscar told me-“

           “Listen, no offense, but the guy’s kind of an idiot. He’s wearing all black and leather on the hottest day of the summer.”

           “True but-“

           “Just kiss me again, I don’t want to hear anymore about this ‘naked glory’.” And Noah’s face went bright red as their lips met again for the first time in too long.

so much of myself is a secret and it makes me wonder if people would still like me if they knew all of me :(

i wished for you. on my birthday. i blew out my candle and wished that you would text me. i wanted you to tell me happy birthday. you never did.

just went to a farmers market and a girl who gave off very strong wlw vibes complimented my outfit in a low flirty voice:) and i bought two crystal rings!! good ass day.