leilaniac

[leilaniac]

if somebody tells me irl that they can cast spells and curses and shit I'm gonna beg them to let me do experiments to test which ones work and i knowww how it sounds coming from me because i don't believe in magic but please please please please

[leilaniac]

me: *sobbing in the woods*

The eldritch horror that’s been watching me from behind a tree: ….Red Lobster’s hiring.

me: *turns around* oh shit fr?

[leilaniac]

[leilaniac]

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[leilaniac]

There was a character in a book I read once who was described as "handsomely fat" and that phrase is stuck in my brain forever. The author really was like "no shut up, they're charismatic, they're good-looking, they're handsomely fat. not just handsome AND fat; them being fat is directly contributing to their good looks. you agree." and they were RIGHT

[leilaniac]

How to Train Your Dragon (EMOJI EDITION)

[leilaniac]

T-shirt that says "I fronted to be here"

[leilaniac]

Asian Water Monitors (Varanus salvator), hug and kiss very sweetly, family Varanidae, Singapore

OK, well, actually they are fighting.

photograph by Neil Miner

[leilaniac]

I looked then and saw that his robes, which had seemed white, were not so, but were woven of all colours. and if he moved they shimmered and changed hue so that the eye was bewildered.

“I liked white better,” I said.

I’m sure this is exactly how Tolkein imagined this scene while writing.

[leilaniac]

me when i accidentally leave out an m in unrestrained summer fun

[leilaniac]

they should have leftist infighting as an event at the next olympics

[leilaniac]

When I was like 12 years old my violin teacher owned this peculiar music shop that I visited weekly for lessons. It was a narrow old pioneer house whose ground floor had been converted into a storefront and lesson rooms. After a while, a luthier also moved into the attic and set up a studio for making violins.

So one day I'm going into the shop for my lesson. I head in the front door, and before I turn into the 'living room' area where the main shop is, I look down the dark hallway toward the rickety wooden stairs that lead up to the luthier's studio. The air smells like sawdust and lacquer. Just a little bit of light filtering in from the window behind me.

Something's on the stairway. A huge black animal is making its way down these steep, narrow stairs. I've never seen anything like this, I genuinely did not know an animal like this exists, and it comes right up to me — click-click-clicking slowly across the floor, long and tall and dark. Its coat is peppered with wood shavings. It lifts its head up until its massive beast-face is virtually level with my child-face, and I realize this is a gotdamn bizarro dog of some kind. It looks impossible but it's real and it's there, staring at me in total silence with a face the length of my arm. Then it does a 3-point-turn in the tiny dusty hallway and goes right back upstairs.

Turns out this was just the luthier's dog Seamus, a black borzoi of incredible height and length. anyway i'm just trying to say it was a disturbing set of circumstances under which i discovered what a borzoi is and everything in my life has felt very complicated since then

[leilaniac]

I was working with an item today that just utterly flabbergasted a part of me (the other was deeply frustrated with the catalogue record AS SOMEONE APPARENTLY THOUGHT IT WAS PRINTED ON SILK, coming back to that in a minute) … but ANYWAYS … said item is a replica of a medieval manuscript prayer book THAT IS ENTIRELY WOVEN out of grey and black silk … WOVEN … text, images, intricate grey scale, WOVEN … NOT PRINTED …

And it’s flabbergasting because it’s from 1888, Jacquard machine, IT USED PUNCH CARDS to weave these intricate pages … something like 400 weft per near square inch … IT looks like a page of textured paper, but it’s not, it’s entirely SILK … F*CK …

Anyways …

[leilaniac]

The thing about those people cynically going "people are inherently selfish, all social interactions are transactional, nobody ever does anything unless there's something in it for them" is that they're right, but they're saying it like it's a bad thing and really want somebody to sweep in and prove them wrong. But like... Yeah no shit? That is how things work. You look after people who look after you. The only people who are willing to give you something for absolutely nothing are the people using you as a tool to punish themselves, a form of self-harm.

I've got people in my life who keep my stupid ass alive in exchange for companionship, social advice and emotional support. What the fuck are you doing with your life that you've observed that people consistently leave you every time when they realise that they get nothing in exchange for being a part of your life?