guillermo del toro can should and MUST direct an interpretation of frankenstein where the monster finally experiences tenderness
going to the gas station and spraying the gas everywhere while the cashier frantically hands me crisp dollar bills, due to the negative oil prices
are they... you know... *recites hamlet*
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I wrote this for Brooke last night, hope you Giants fans like it
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no one:
oakland a’s fans: HONK [bangs drum relentlessly]
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if u like baseball you're gay
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my bf and I have the same fucking brain
acetedkord
Quiplash is the greatest game ever made because it allows for things like this and you can’t change my mind.
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the 1997 Anastasia film decided rasputin made a better villain than the bolsheviks and i’m still reeling over the fact an american company was given a once-in-a-lifetime historically justified reason to vilify communism and they SKIPPED it
the notes is just people roasting the musical adaption and ok fair
They knew that if they animated young Lenin and gave him magic powers and a villain song america would be communist by now
you actually make a strong point
how it feels to be each sign
aries: when you’ve been ready to go for hours and everyone else isn’t even out of bed yet
taurus: when you wait happily for someone even if you’re tired but they can’t find the patience to wait for you
gemini: when you go to an antique store and want to look at everything but your friends get bored and leave you behind
cancer: that last bit of hope you hold onto even though you know something is going to go wrong
leo: when you give someone a really great present for their birthday but they don’t even remember yours
virgo: knowing exactly how something is going to play out but trying to convince yourself that it’ll go a different way
libra: when all your friends have relationship problems and you help them through it but you’re still single
scorpio: that sinking gut feeling when you see someone you like with someone else even though you know you’re better
sagittarius: when you want to ride the biggest roller coaster at the park but your friends are too afraid so you do it by yourself
capricorn: working on a project for weeks to make sure it’s perfect and someone else does better than you with half the effort
aquarius: when you feel manic or out of touch with reality but everyone else seems to be going along just fine
pisces: you’re the first to help a friend in need even if you don’t think they’d be there to help you
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Sometimes he wakes so far from himself that he can’t even remember who he is. “Where am I?” he asks, desperate, and then, “Who am I? Who am I?”
And then he hears, so close to his ear that it is as if the voice is originating inside his own head, Willem’s whispered incantation. “You’re Jude St. Francis. You are my oldest, dearest friend. You’re the son of Harold Stein and Julia Altman. You’re the friend of Malcolm Irvine, of Jean-Baptiste Marion, of Richard Goldfarb, of Andy Contractor, of Lucien Voigt, of Citizen van Straaten, of Rhodes Arrowsmith, of Elijah Kozma, of Phaedra de los Santos, of the Henry Youngs.
“You’re a New Yorker. You live in SoHo. You volunteer for an arts organization; you volunteer for a food kitchen.
“You’re a swimmer. You’re a baker. You’re a cook. You’re a reader. You have a beautiful voice, though you never sing anymore. You’re an excellent pianist. You’re an art collector. You write me lovely messages when I’m away. You’re patient. You’re generous. You’re the best listener I know. You’re the smartest person I know, in every way. You’re the bravest person I know, in every way.
“You’re a lawyer. You’re the chair of the litigation department at Rosen Pritchard and Klein. You love your job; you work hard at it.
“You’re a mathematician. You’re a logician. You’ve tried to teach me, again and again.
“You were treated horribly. You came out on the other end. You were always you.
(via ruby-who)
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“I’m lonely,” he says aloud, and the silence of the apartment absorbs the words like blood soaking into cotton.
He is so lonely that he sometimes feels it physically, a sodden clump of dirty laundry pressing against his chest. He cannot unlearn the feeling.
A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara (via juderagnarsson)
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"everybody hates me" factoid actually just a statistical error. The average person doesn't hate you, especially not your friends. You, a person who sits in your room experiencing self loathing every day, are an outlier adn should not have been counted.
why must a writer write, is it not enough to daydream wildly about our characters?
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cliché but classic trope: when the person who almost died wakes up in a hospital bed, looks around and sees the object of their affection sleeping uncomfortably in the chair next to them because they haven’t moved in days.
twelvety-cans-of-cant
You can pry that trope from my cold dead hands.
cliché but classic sub trope of this: the person who almost died tells the object of their affection “you look like shit” despite the fact that they are the one in the hospital bed and almost died.
vampireapologist-archive-deacti
people make a lot of touch-starved gay jokes about Lush but the truth is it’s not a gay experience, it’s a human experience. no one is safe, no one is immune.
you walk in there for the first time thinkin’ I’m gonna buy some hand soap today and then some dude who smells like something impossible, like he’s being described by a YA author, he smells like lavender, leather, and the steam coming from hot pavement after a short summer rain,
That guy. He comes up to you and he asks if he can help you sample something. He leads you to a small, metal basin of water. It’s so pastoral, it’s so quaint. You can imagine it sitting beside your bed with a porcelain pitcher in your farm cottage for you to use to wash your face in the morning.
He rolls up your sleeve a bit, and you awkwardly apologize for not doing it yourself, and he says it’s fine.
Sir LeatherRain gently rinses your hand in the warm water, and then he dries it off attentively. Then he massages some of the product into your palm. It’s the cinnamon bean massage bar. He says “don’t you love how it feels warm as you rub it in?”
He’s making more direct eye contact with you than you’ve ever made in your entire life.
As he finishes, a woman who smells like coffee beans and pink-skied winter sunrises approaches and says “oh I LOVE that product.”
You know it’s about the sell. It’s transactional, but you’re in love. You can’t help it.
You’re also More uncomfortable than you’ve ever been in your entire life.
As you walk away to the register, you clench your hand and unclench it like Mr. Darcy when he touches Elizabeth Bennet’s hand to help her out of a coach.
As someone who’s worked at Lush I assure you it’s just as weirdly intimate to be the one rubbing lotions into other people’s skin
vampireapologist
oh thank god
hogwartsaheadcanon
Lush has some bizarro magic going on i once wore a hat i’d knitted into a lush shop and one of the staff members casually complimented it and i went home and i got half way through knitting them one to take into the shop as a gift before i realised how fucking whacked out a thing that would be to do like i was ensorcelled there was spell work upon me
vampireapologist
obsessed with this
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aetihaasik
dark academia, except I just sit in the dark and cry about oscar wilde