[fladurblegon]

I wish I had serotonin instead of this massive cock

[thecollectibles]

Bluebeard by Marjolaine Roller

[thecollectibles]

The Collectibles: Best of 2024

[glkr-xx]

On this blog we are either:

Romantic, horny, or depressed. Hope this helps.

[softbratxoxoxo]

All my mutuals are hot. Reblog to tell your mutuals they are hot.

[fairycosmos]

always vaguely feeling like im in trouble for something but idk what

[a-book-is-a-garden]

”[S]tanding before this symbolic night bursting with stars, I opened myself for the first time to the tender indifference of the world. To feel it so like me, so like a brother, in fact, I understood that I had been happy, and I was still happy.” - Albert Camus, The Stranger

[hexthelex-deactivated20230815]

nerdy guys with fat cocks

you agree, reblog

[pianjeong]

come on brain yip yip

[metamorphesque]

René Magritte, Le pays des miracles (The Country of Marvels)

[wheezeneak]

Neil Gaiman really said, friends to lovers, slow burn, 300,000 words, incomplete

[mybeingthere]

Georgia O'Keeffe, Rust Red Hills, 1930.

[etirabys]

as a child I wondered why adults were so stupid (doing things out of habit/routine/heuristics rather than reasoning explicitly about what to do based on their goals) and the answer is that adults are unimaginably fucking tired all the time

[oneminutefriend]

[Text ID: If this myth is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious. Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him?]

Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

[gaypornvideoswebsite]

being a hater is a private affair. haterism for clout is embarassing, get a journal, gel pens even

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Tristan Tzara, from Selected Verses; “Approximate Man.”

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Paul Valéry, from “Eupalinos.”

[a-book-is-a-garden]

“All that remains is a fate whose outcome alone is fatal. Outside of that single fatality of death, everything, joy or happiness, is liberty. A world remains of which man is the sole master. What bound him was the illusion of another world. The outcome of his thought, ceasing to be renunciatory, flowers in images. It frolics — in myths to be sure — but myths with no other depth than that of human suffering and, like it, inexhaustible. Not the divine fable that amuses and blinds, but the terrestrial face, gesture, and drama in which are summed up a difficult wisdom and an ephemeral passion.”

— Albert Camus, “The Myth of Sisyphus”

[driflloon]