Spicy Potato

god is stored in the sunlight from the kitchen window

🙃

I may not give a flying fuck, but terrestrial fucks remain on the table, and I may be willing to entertain the possibility of an aquatic fuck, given sufficient incentive.

I don't give a flying fuck. The fuck I give is rolling downhill at incredible speeds.

I don't give a flying fuck. As it's moving on a purely ballistic trajectory without being suspended under its own power, it's technically a projectile fuck.

#not to be confused with a gliding fuck #which remains unpowered but uses aerodynamics to move on non-ballistic paths (via @rlyehtaxidermist​

can’t stop thinking about my ocs. listening to music? thinking about my ocs. doing shit around the house? thinking about my ocs. driving somewhere?  thinking about my ocs. workin on something? thinking about my ocs.

[ID: a picture of a person laying down looking up at the ceiling. The image is captioned “thinks about ocs in silence” in brackets. /end ID]

all I do is listen to music and think about my silly little fictional people

when your pet comes to you from another room, the preceding moments meant that they were alone somewhere and thought about YOU, an animal brain literally thought about you and came to you to see what you were doing. that’s love, unconditional.

once again why did we let masquerade balls and handwritten letters and heart lockets and daggers strapped to thighs go out of fashion