Caspar David Friedrich

Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (Jaromil Jireš, 1970)

I made my senior year ap bio class watch this with me as my last fuck u all those years ago

Some advice for when you’re writing and find yourself stuck in the middle of a scene:

Never delete. Never read what you’ve already written. Pass Go, collect your $200, and keep going.

This is the literal best writing advice I have ever read. Period.

DARK - GHOST - POISON

happy halloween!

honestly these cinematic parallels

A Xenological Exploration of Music and Language

A long time ago I wrote this story while going by a different username… which I then deleted off of ao3 while I was in the middle of a sort of “personal” “crisis”. The details aren’t important. Don’t worry about it. 

But now it is several years later and I’m a new woman (not really) with a more stable emotional baseline (also untrue) and I look back on that episode with some (some) regret. So I’m posting it again with some minor revisions.

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Fandom: Homestuck

Relationship: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas

Chapter: 1/7

Dave tries to get into his alien friend’s pants by spending as much time with him as possible under the guise of “learning about troll culture”. But then he accidentally becomes genuinely invested in learning about troll culture.

Read Here: A Xenological Exploration of Music and Language

Danilo Stankovic

pretty sure I went to purgatory today

do tell

Ok So 

today, friday 13th, i had two things scheduled to happen. 1 was taking my drivers test (not really relevant to the purgatory thing but i feel the need to include it on the basis of friday 13th fuckery), 2 was picking up my diploma. as it turns out, somewhere between home and the dmv a taillight went out, so the administrator wouldnt let me take the test, and rescheduled me to NOVEMBER. so thats how my 9am went. 

with that under our hats, me and my mom went to find my diploma. 

it started bad. google maps did not recognize the address as existing. it took us several tries to convince it there was a west school avenue in anywhere but california, and when we finally did, the street names didn’t match. some of them just didn’t match the physical signs, but others changed or disappeared in the map itself. and as we approached, we discovered that the facility we were looking for was not only off the road, but the only way to get to it was through a backwoods neighborhood, inhabited EXCLUSIVELY by hicks sitting on their porches and judging us for some unknown sin. 

finally, google says we’ve arrived. surely not, we whisper. please no. jesus christ. we’re faced with what appears to be a small penitentiary, the front of which is plain white with massive blinded windows, and the only parking in sight is through a gigantic chain-link fence. there is no signage anywhere whatsoever to indicate whether we’re allowed in, but there’s nowhere else to stop without blocking the teeny little road, so we pull in. the energy of this place is absolutely befuckened. we’re talking deserted. the parking lot is jam-packed, but there’s not a human in sight. it’s not a closed building either, more like a campus, with dozens of doors opening onto little courtyard areas. the doors are all either unmarked or covered in seemingly arbitrary words and numbers. some of them have strangely large locks and no knobs. some of them have keypads. 

well by now we’re both thoroughly fuckin spooked, so my mom calls my dad to explain we were gonna be a little uh late and i go to find. something. anything. civilization, perhaps. i find a little hallway to the front of the building, where i can now see a gigantic sign declaring the name of the facility. the letters are two feet tall, but the exact same color as the roofing behind them. they are not faded. they were painted that way. beneath them is an easily 4-meter-tall arched metal gate, which is the only opening on the entire front of the otherwise clean building, and, therefore, logically represents the main entrance. 

directly inside and left of the gate is a door with a cartoonishly large keypad lock and a sign which reads ‘NOT AN ENTRANCE.’ there are no arrows and no directions. 

i turn around and head the opposite direction, down a long hall. at the end of it is a set of double doors which are shrouded in darkness. i’m about 30 feet away when there’s a flicker of movement behind the doors. then, out of the shadows, steps an old hick. “you look lost.” he says. “y-eAh” i reply. he enquires what i’m there for, and i explain my diploma. he directs me to a door next to a blue car. there is no logical way for the car to be inside the buildings courtyard, but it is no less next to a door. as i turn to see where i’m being directed, a young woman seemingly materializes in the middle of the hallway perpendicular to us, walking briskly. without slowing she turns to me, says “she’s making a pb&j sandwich,” and carries on her way. when i turn around the man is gone. when i turn back, she’s gone too. i run for my mom. 

ngl at this point im dead fucking sure she wont be where i left her and when i find her the car will be gone and we’ll be trapped in this hellhole if we don’t get out before sunset, but she’s there, and we go and enter the door. inside we can hear idle chatter from an adjacent office. after a few seconds a woman comes out. she does not ask who we are. she asks whose diploma we want. we tell her mine. she pulls it out of a stack of loose paper, hands it to us without another solitary word, and bids us farewell. 

mom drove outta there about 70mph and tbh i wouldve done the same that was an evil place and i do not plan on returning 

You went to Hell’s waiting room

“the energy of this place is absolutely befuckened” 

this might be my new favorite phrase 

It is knowledge of me you crave, Doctor. Forbidden knowledge. Knowledge with a lurid glare to it. Knowledge gained through a descent into the pit. You want to go where I can never go. See what I can never see inside me. You want to open up my body and peer inside. In your hand, you want to hold my beating female heart.

Watership Down, Richard Adams (via bibliophilicwitch-archive)

reposting some of these cuz I fixed the ones that were illegible

also I desperately need Marsti to say ‘what kind of clown behavior’ in canon

[more here]

hey reposting a couple of these. Tried to fix that bug where everything is blurry and inscrutable but I guess I don’t fucking understand how computers work so anyway here u go

[more here]

look I know the Badly Injured Man headline has been done to death, but gang

it hadn’t yet been done with Marvus

[more here]

Amy Winehouse passing popsicles through her window to neighborhood kids

#me as a cryptid

February 1993. ‘I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.’ ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay