rediscovering my childhood by watching the lord of the rings and the hobbit religiously
love is my partner getting sick and me taking care of him. and then me getting sick from taking care of him so he takes care of me. and both of us taking care of each other even though we both feel like we’ve been hit by a bus.
and then us both recovering from being half dead for four days and me graciously nominating him to go to the shops because we have No Food. so he drags himself to the shops and and comes back and surprises me with flowers and chocolates.
but what the fucker didn’t count on was that while he was gone i dragged myself out of bed to light candles in the living room and bought him chocolate and set up his computer for him to collapse on the sofa upon his grand return.
and then us swapping chocolate and giggling like children until we’re coughing and need to lie down again. that’s love.
i hope otters see humans walking n go “aw look the humans r holding hands so they don’t drift away from each other”
everyone at the bus stop desires me carnally
sisyphus rolling his boulder but instead of a hill it’s a sand dune and it keeps getting stuck
foolblue reblogged
Thematically speaking, the most important thing Terry Pratchett taught me was the concept of militant decency. The idea that you can look at the world and its flaws and its injustices and its cruelties and get deeply, intensely angry, and that you can turn that into energy for doing the right thing and making the world a better place. He taught me that the anger itself is not the part I should be fighting. Nobody in my life ever said that before.
new method for fantasy topography, cook bacon and use the grease on the bottom of the tray as inspiration
the emo urge to be the most depressed person on the train platform
it’s good for the soul to do impulsive things occasionally. good to let loose. not just saying this because i’m once again dyeing my hair. this is mentally healthy
sorry babe the fluffy cat socks stay on during sex
#i know this post fits the meme format but this is based on recurring true events#my feet get cold okay#s/o to my boyfriend for literally never even questioning the fluffy cat socks despite him being a dog person#also am i appearing out of the ether to post this and then promptly disappearing again? you bet!#sex mention#my post
foolblue reblogged
so shameful that no medieval poet wanted ME to guide them through their sexual awakening journey through the underworld or whatever idk i didn’t read the whole book
did the ymca song ever actually achieve its purpose
there is a tendency with history, i think, because we're so far removed from it, to kind of forget that all of the people were people
a child 10,000 years ago left a handprint on a wall. they were fingerpainting. a viking climbs up a rock just to carve the words "this is very high" 10ft off the ground. somebody centuries... milennia... ago burned their dinner so thoroughly that they buried the ruined pot in the backyard rather than attempt to clean it. shakespeare got drunk and wrote dick jokes. tutankhamun was a little boy who liked ducks more than anything. a roman carves his name into a monument in another country saying "i was here". a prisoner, centuries ago, in the tower of london scratches lines into the wall as a tally marking the days. a medieval monk scrawls in the margins bemoaning the boredom of his work.
every human being across history has said "i was here. i lived. i loved. i made something. i laughed. i cried. please do not forget me"
foolblue reblogged
