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save me first sip of mediocre coffee from a 1€ coffee machine on a cold foggy November morning.. save me

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discourse over shipping the two guys in the mariner’s revenge song by the decemberists but it focuses entirely on the fourteen year age gap and anytime anyone tries to bring up how that one guy fucked the other guy’s mom, gave her syphilis, and stole all her money, leading directly to her tragic death and the titular mariner’s lifelong quest for revenge, they seamlessly pivot into arguing over if actually the mom was in the wrong for fucking an eighteen year old

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from maggie stiefvater via instagram

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sorry my perverse desires are confusing should i kill myself should we invite sigmund freud

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funniest guy on earth. to me.

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we shouldve got her on estrogen 30 years ago..

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Gawain cum rag

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recommending the silm to people is like hey are you interested in a book where the world’s biggest battle that destroys the continent most of the story took place on is glossed over in two pages, most characters don’t have a single line of dialogue, many characters only have personalities in fanon, and also half the silm content isn’t actually in the silm and you have to scour through notes published across 14 different books

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I have a crush on her. yes it's terminal

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now ive finally watched the terror i can say with absolute certainty that's the kind of doomed voyage ship of death energy i want from voyager. could you imagine if on top of all that they had to worry about scurvy

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‘Out, Out--’

by Robert Frost

The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside him in her apron To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all— Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart— He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off— The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’ So. But the hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright. No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

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by lesnoj.veresk

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Blue Ridge Mountains, VA & NC ⛰️

Always a treat seeing the Blue Ridge Mountains, they are so much more beautiful IRL!

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If you have Spotify reblog this and tag what your number one song on your “on repeat” playlist is.

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