#sensible things

[immortalbeloved]

i hate this mood. i should buy things. 

[minw]

strigoiaca replied to your post:strigoiaca replied to your post:strigoiaca replied...

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAA if you see me get emotional about Kpop, imagine how bad I get about history. Also I hope your BBY gets better. Poor lil darling -whimpers-

i think i've gotten a sneak peek of your history love reading your history tags and it's GREAT!

bby just fell asleep and her paw is on my foot so i'm afraid to move rofl. she's gotten seizures 3 days in a row now poor sweetie :( /hugs her

[inat40]

Big fan of this guy (or indeed girl)'s work.

(From the current UK midweek chart update. The original isn't out until Sunday, naturally.)

[halfmaiarr]

Grow.

Blissful afternoons have returned with the sun, burning through the haze leaving the lacivious humidity to lick at our bare skin, and mess our hair. Tranquil afternoons spent sitting and readin in my greenhouse, surrounded by my things that grow. They know where to find me in this weather, as smartly dressed suburban mothers knock on my garden gate- chubby pink faced children squealing in tow. My son was told at school that his mother's a witch and my darling little wild thing had the sense to laugh, stating mummy was far too pretty to be a witch. I'm not wart-nose or crinkled skin like a crepe-face pointy hatted old streghe. The same women who so quckly and outright wrongly accuse me so are the ones stopping at my red garden gate (brisk dust red, with a Greenman visage attached) to come in for a card reading, certain tea blends, marriage advice, or just to talk with someone who doesn't live so relentlessly in the suburbs. My mind runs free without petticoats through moors and splashes in streams kept cold by the thick canopy of ancient trees. June, July and August seem to be when I do my business best with remedies...throughout the winter they sustain themselves in the knowledge I always see what is in their cards or know how to instruct them on properly feeding a straying man. For now, summers in my greenhouse will do, whispering over cups of inappropriately hot tea, giggling over a deck of queer cards. When night cools and the sun relents the candles are lit and the knocks cease until the next morning (10am). the herbs get their feeding and I sit out on the pebbles, absent-mindedly running my hand over the ample lavender bushes, taking in their furry texture, knobbed purple flowers, and sweet scent that if asked I could only describe as the smell of sex. Swinging my legs over the garden wall like a child, I raise my face and smile at my Viking as he implores I come inside before I get too cold and spend the night curled about his torso for warmth. Then it all begins again the next day. Bliss.

[bruinen92]

Oh my god, THIS GUY