oh aeneas we’re really in it now

What if you were a woman in your FORTIES and after accidentally almost drowning your high school bullies via a self help book written by SATAN you help dig up the founder of your CURSED town only to find out HE IS STILL ALIVE and can communicate through little notes and you’re trying to be nice to the again IMMORTAL MAN WITH A POOPY POST IT IN HIS BOY LOCKET but he’s not being very nice so now you have to write another LITTLE NOTE and ask if he’s mad at you

WAIT did I never tell tumblr about the haunted space waterpark hotel

I should add that I did not see a single other guest the entire time I was there, which intensified the whole vibe.

one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.

met a woman today whose original real actual given-at-birth first name is "Vendetta." ma'am are you aware you are a videogame protagonist and/or a character in a skullduggery pleasant novel. real quick sorry to bother you miss but who exactly were your parents expecting you to avenge in their name

the worst part is I can't dare ask her that last question because then she might say something like "You don't remember, do you?" and pull out a katana and obviously I'm not stupid enough to take that risk

women are like diamonds: synthetically-produced women are not meaningfully different from naturally-formed women, and anyone trying to tell you otherwise is probably trying to justify keeping their women mines open

Women are like diamonds since they are composed primarily of carbon.

Women are like diamonds because they will hurt you if you bite them too hard.

btw if i was doing the modern carrie retelling. i wouldn't do what the guy is doing. but i would make carrie's mother still religious and abusive but she's also one of those fundie influencers who mommyblog and post their kids. and when carrie gets her period it's not at school but it's a tiktok her mother made about it that everyone sees. and carrie explodes every person's phone who looked at it and it blows up in their face. and she's still fat