perfectly fucking civil

ending my bloodline is like the hottest thing i'll ever do

Having internet friends is an experience. Did you eat today? I can't believe your sister hasn't apologized yet, what a bitch. Drink a glass of water right now. Want to see a cat picture? I love you. I know you better than your parents. I don't know your name. I'm having a rough day, can you talk to me about your favorite videogame? I love you. Good morning means good night means good afternoon means go to sleep. Here's a doodle I made in class. I'm stealing your clothes as we speak, they're so pretty. I love you. I love your pet. What does your hair look like? I'd love to see that weird leaf. I love you. I'm making you your favorite food. Thank you for holding my secrets for me. I love you. We're having a coffe date. I love you. I'm giving you a screen-sized hug. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Morning routine (◍•ᴗ•◍) ☀️

So many TV shows/movies depict the Epi Pen as a total solution for anaphylaxis...it's not. The Epi Pen gives you 30 minutes to get to a hospital where they can save your life. TV makes it look like you just have to use the Epi Pen and then the crisis is over. Do people without allergies or a loved one with allergies know that an Epi Pen only buys you time? The more I see this on TV the more I worry...

**Maybe you should reblog this because I'm actually worried that most people don't know.

Omg so much this! I have to use my epipens about three times a year and my doctor recommends I shoot both of them in my thigh and then call an ambulance! They are a STABILISER not a cure!!

OH MY GOD I DID NOT KNOW THIS

sorry if i come off as stupid, its because i am

— Hélène Cixous, Readings: The Poetics of Blanchot, Joyce, Kafka, Kleist, Lispector, and Tsvetaeva.

Both are true

Stylish Cat

📷 @a_street_cat_named_benson

Handwriting is so cool cause it’s like the written equivalent of the sound of someone’s voice.

A dating service where matching is based on people’s search history exists. You’re a serial killer. You go on a date with a writer.

Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill someone, how would you do it?

Writer: Air shot between the toes, it’ll look like a heart attack.

Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: *sucks in a breath* ok

Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts

Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes

Writer, already bringing a ring out: *shaking* thanks

A++ addition

Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene they’re writing* babe, i’m not sure if this would actually work?

Serial killer: *kisses writer on the forehead and leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood coming off them* it works baby, you’re doing great

I LOVE THIS

Oh no, murder comedy is my jam

I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? It’d be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gullible, and on top of it they’re a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so it’s completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work.

Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed to get their first book published, with loving support from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all the murder scenes, and it’s a big hit. Enough so that a detective with the local police department has noticed some disturbing similarities to several active cases, including details that were never released to the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior and convinces him that there’s something to the theory, but it’s all circumstantial right now. He stakes out the author’s home and is super convinced that the author is the murderer, but they don’t seem to do anything??? Like they literally are at the house all day, that’s it. Most they do is leave for groceries.

So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the author for creative murder schemes, the author being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and finally the detective who is just so sure that the author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long enough he’ll FINALLY have proof.

Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go out so it gets sub what personal. 

“You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a serial killer.”

Serial killer breaths in. “Look-”

…perfect

I don’t like actual murder mysteries, but this is perfect

THE ORIGINAL POST HOW DID I GET SO LUCKY

i am in severe distress. i am vibing. i am king of the world. i am bored. i am lost at sea. i am making coffee. i am foraging in the forest. i am making tea. i am chasing pigeons. i am napping in a chair

.Helena Bonham Carter photographed by Gemma Levine, 1985

*✧ ancient weapon appreciation ･ﾟ✧

im always a slut for death and suffering

the word lover is so infinitely soft. So universal. So timeless. Two girls with awkward, hungry hands. A boy and a girl in the dark. Two men in empty light. A marriage of 40 years. Letters over eons. Sappho’s poems. The corner of a mouth. Lovers, lovers, lovers.

They sit together at the lunch table.