Two young, fit, healthy, attractive people in love. There’s nothing worse to look at in the world.
—Dylan Moran (via fregly)
(Source: colourfulmotion, via dailydoseofdylanmoran)
halfway through a panic attack
fuck fuck shit
What if men were photographed the way women typically were? I love this!
(via fuckyeahhardfemme)
accepting mediocrity
It came upon him, then, as the pencil slid aimlessly from groove to groove in his fingertips, that there was little stranger than growing old.
mary mary quite contrary
Mary had never meant to take up smoking, but it had crept into her life as easily as François had crept away. A carelessly discarded pack had littered her dresser since the slam of their apartment door, and it had only been a matter of time before she was leaving their ends burning in old ashtrays, catching his scent as she hunched over his instruments and wore the clothes he’d left behind until they no longer felt like his. Putting them to her lips had felt like an intrusion at first, a taboo attempt to get closer, and the thought had given her a thrill that had made her feel – at least a little – alive again. But the longer he stayed away, the less impact smoking his last pack of cigarettes had, and when they finally ran out, it was Mary who walked to the store and bought another pack, and it was necessity rather than winsome wistfulness that guided her steps. Now she made the trip once a day: one pack of Camels – not his brand, because he imported them from France – and one meal. Often, she couldn’t find the motivation to eat even that, and so her wallpaper yellowed as her wrists grew thin.
the monsters behind our eyes
The world, when it ended, did not end with a bang or a whimper. Well – he didn’t think it did, anyway. Realistically, a blast like that would have blown his eardrums pretty quickly, and though there was a definite, definitive lack of ringing in his ears, he reasoned that he had probably been dead before he had even known what was happening. Victor had not learned a lot about nuclear technology over the hedonistic hundreds of years he’d been alive, and so his perception of radiation and explosives equalled perhaps that of a small child with an expansive collection of 50s comic books. Weaponry had, perhaps foolishly, never particularly interested him; a consequence of being killed by firearm is that you don’t wish to have anything to do with gunpowder for the foreseeable future. When one feels a musket ball smashing into a chest cavity, one tends to stop thinking that it’s acceptable fare for killing another human being.
“why am I still a virgin” he sighs to himself while taking off his guy fawkes mask and fedora after a long day of trolling
(via idkitmightbetoovulgar)
(Source: leviosawormwood, via idkitmightbetoovulgar)
