20tilki

Did you hear a new love language just dropped? yeah its crazy. Its called just fuckin biting them.

reblogging this but shaking my head the whole time to show i don't believe in love languages

this is so sad he doesn’t even know there’s a double barreled shotgun pointed at him

Pacific spiny lumpsucker (Eumicrotremus orbis)

you want to be romantically attracted to someone? the thing that killed romeo and juliet?

I'll be an avid shipper of something until someone walks in and says "there is NO platonic explanation for this" and suddenly I've never shipped it before in my life and they're just friends and I can't lie i can't really see them being in a romantic relationship with each other yeah sorry I just don't see it

dump his ass. move to a walkable city. start hormones. get into fiber crafts. dye your hair weird. grow an herb garden. foster a distrustful cat. take a welding class. invite your friends over for tea and cake. get way too into obscure media. explore a new cuisine. lie to the police. protest in the streets. life has so many possibilities don't it?

make out with a frenemy. buy noise cancelling headphones. wear office inappropriate attire. quit a toxic workplace. improve your apartment. start a dog walking sidegig. get on first name basis with your local librarians. bully politicians at town hall meetings. get an unexpected piercing. cultivate farmer's market connections. trade recipes with a gossipy old neighbor. unionize your apartment complex. move to the countryside. let a friend take you larping. keep a sword on your mantleplace

get a tattoo on your 40th birthday. be tempted to buy a loom. do a charity drag show. sue your landlord. buy a really nice kitchen appliance. volunteer at an anarchist soup kitchen. rediscover a tv show you watched when you were 8. spam your state senators. shop at asian grocery stores. do cosplay. buy trans flags in bulk and mount them along the highway. go viral for unexpected reasons. move in with your best friend. make lemoncello with leftover lemon rinds. run for school board membership. explore pegging.

update: i'm delighted to report this post has been responsible for at least one person dumping his ass

update: three four people

I got that dog in me *curls up on the ground and starts whimpering*

Anyway i love how the movie uses this very abstract out-there horror premise to represent the human tendency to get stuck on something and obsess over it and become trapped in a never-ending cycle and to resist change so hard that you still change anyway but in a way that degrades and warps and destroys you and the fallibility of human memory and how every time you recall something it gets a little less accurate which means the more you obsess over something the further entrenched in it you become the more you choose to live here the worse it gets the less you understand it until your perspective on the objective reality of it is completely destroyed. The backrooms are a brain the whole thing is a brain. The horror is the human brain. CAN ANYBODY HEAR MEEEEE

if you think about mary kline in the sense that she became a therapist because she wanted to save people, then it means she went looking for clark because she wanted to save him. instead, she finds long empty corridors, and rooms that’s are echoes of an echo of memories. rooms that almost seem to reflect clark’s mind, muddled and distant and slipping away. when she sees them, when she stares directly at that reflection of the human pscyche - and as she wonders, perhaps, if this place is what tore clark apart, or if it just preyed on the parts of him that were already crumbling - she begins to lose hope. and then, after clawing her way out only to be brought to that interrogation room, i think she loses hope fully. because mary kline cannot save clark, and she cannot even save herself either. just like mary kline couldn’t save her mother

a handprint made in concrete is just the image of a hand, it’s not the real thing. or, it’s the absence of a hand, more than anything, the negative space. the casing around where it should be. it’s an indent that was made from something real - that could not have existed without something real - but it’s not the real thing, it’s just trying to be. maybe it’s not even trying. you put your hand there with your mother and the concrete remembers, and the handprint doesn’t even know why it exists, it just does. if we can make copies and not-things from real things in the world, who’s the say the world couldn’t do that itself? does it even need to know why?

in another universe i'm still with all of these lovely people and doing all these amazing things because we will all find each other in every universe, in cadets or anywhere else.

sometimes i feel like im climing up this incline again alone but thankully sisypus and the itsy bitsy spider and here with me

holy shit is that kate bush

‘how would other people describe you’ why would i know this

Everything I’ve ever done leads back to me

trans clown getting top surgery and the surgeon pulls out his breast tissue and pulls out his breast tissue and pulls out his breast tissue and pulls out his breast tissue and pulls out his