February 2012
118 posts
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Dressed in black, clash of red scarf…aaaand then navy blue boots. I know, I know. But practicality over fashion, my dears. I have to walk to campus and back, and I don’t want to slip in this damn snow.
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A: not gonna lie, I'm naked
B: meeooowww
A; reverse strip tease
B: not gonna lie, I'm disappointed
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Tell me that you didn’t forget. I won’t believe you, anyway.
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I think - dare I say it?! - that my Dramaturgy project is finished.
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I have been awake for an hour now, and I have yet to do anything productive. I slept quite well (though I awoke at half past eight from a strange nightmare), but my limbs feel leaden, heavy, and I could quite easily curl back up under the sheets and lie there for the rest of the morning at least. My nightmare was strange because it contained images I have not had to worry or dream about for a few...
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That awkward moment when your friend doesn't...
B: You need my discipline? O.o what. do I need to whip you or something..
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Early lunch - ham sandwiches cut into triangles, Austrian smoked cheese cut into circles, a few squares of Bourneville dark chocolate,and a mug-shaped cup of tea. Want some?
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A: LIZZIE-BETH. FETCH THE GUNS. I'LL ROUND UP THE CATS. WE'VE BEEN PUTTING UP WITH THIS SHIT FAR TOO FUCKING LONG, AND MY DRAMATURGY PROGRAMME WRITING ISN'T GOING VERY WELL RIGHT NOW, SO I SAY IN THE IMMORTAL WORDS OF SOME TWAT OR OTHER LET'S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, SHARPISH
B: ALL RIGHT SKIPPER
A: MEET YOU OUT FRONT, SEXY? fuck me, that sounded like an innuendo. A fucking good one, too.
B: SMOKE ME A KIPPER. I'LL BE BACK FOR BREAKFAST.
A: WHAT? LIZZIE-BETH, I AM SERIOUS ABOUT THIS FUCKING SHIT. THERE WILL BE NO BREAKFAST, ONLY BAD-ASS-ERY.
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Reblog if you dare someone to write a fic about...
iandsharman:onceuponarainynight:lem0n-entry
Aww, come on tumblr, it would be so cool! I could use the amusement. http://felixculpa.tumblr.com/ask If you’re lucky, I will return the favour :D
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Hallo tumblr :D
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“He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those...”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
(via girlinlondon)
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New Blog Post: If You Die in SL...Don't Touch →
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A: Talking to a friend last night, he told me that some of his female friends in the US sleep with girls, kinda casually, because girls are better lovers
B: I'm sure they're more.. cuddly
A: I'm not sure "cuddly" is what he means
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So, it took me a hell of a long time to fall asleep last night. I guess part of me was hoping that the phone might ring, or that a message might come through that might still my mind, or at least spark it up in brighter ways. No such came, and somehow I managed to make it through to this morning.
I feel an incredible sense of being cheated.
And rough. I probably look it. A cup of Yorkshire tea...
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If you’re not even going to fight for me, I don’t know what you expect me to do.
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Was I ever worth fighting for?
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“Nothing to say?”
You’ve got to be kidding me. How dare you. When are you going to open eyes and think about somebody other than yourself?
I’m sorry tumblr. It is not like me to air my dirty laundry in public and I suppose, in a way, I’m not really saying anything revealing. I just cannot get over this. I cannot get over the nerve of it. And I need to vent. Here is...
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B: I have a tram map on my head because I got so confused at what John was muttering at.
A: Lololololololol, on your head?
B: yes, to try and absorb knowledge.
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“God may or may not exist. But misery is real. It is absolutely real, and utterly...”
– Gretchen. The Body Thief - Anne Rice
(via burningbutterfly)
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How oblivious can one man be?!
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‘I imagine you on your own, lost in a city, unprotected…you have no friends’
Not bloody fucking likely. I have teeth and claws and, more importantly, a spine. I have a whole host of marvellously wicked, sharp-tongued friends that I know I can count on - and we don’t have to speak every day to know that the affection is there. It makes me so angry to think that you...
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BBC News - 'Failure week' at top girls' school to... →
About time, in my opinion.
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B: but you'd have to be a stick insect to fit into that cup of tea
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I have begun to feel a little like John Cage. “I have nothing to say, and I am saying it”.
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Death Poem
tylerknott:
They say all great poets write a final poem when confronted with their last and loneliest moment before death. Would I be great, if when confronting mine, all I wrote over and over again was your name? -Tyler Knott Gregson-