Saddest Thing I Read Today. Its Absolutely Heartwrenching

The Rat Plague is very pleased at the sheer amount of teamwork done to make @tothechaos suffer.

Im saving this as a note to the fellow children of Lorda-this is how you praise the plague.

glad that im not popular enough to have an evil shadow version of my blog that exists just to make contradictions on my posts

Ambulocetus in the Light The world is haunted by a past far older than ours. Whales once walked on land. Sometimes the land remembers them--or they remember the land.

Homage to history and my beautiful but fraught Pacific Northwest.

In my shop

@dunmertitty transgender GAY sex

Your 20s are for looking back to your childhood and thinking "huh, that sure was fucked up, they shouldn't have done that to me."

Your 30s are for looking back to your 20s and thinking "huh, that sure was fucked up, I shouldn't have done that to myself."

Reblogging so i can remember to buy this book

It gives me bibically accurate angel vibes

Some malls are already fit for purpose, just remove the directories.

malls are dying because they don't have blacksmith, apothecary, alehouse or peddler's

It's so cute! And the top part reminds me of terraria

Annie • blacklillybee

This house would give death the kid an anurism

split house May 2018 NL, Canada flickr ♡ instagram

My brain when i have 3 too many cups of coffee

Yep, this about sums up how I feel right now.

Reblog cause I wish I met this wonderful man

In 1970, my mother's family adopted an intellectually disabled man named Horace. Horace was 56, and had been in an institution since 1921.

My uncle, who was 19, was working as an orderly at the institution where Horace lived. He only stayed a few months as the abuse he witnessed was too much for him. He had become friends with Horace and told him "I'll come back for you."

Horace replied "They all say that."

By that Christmas, Horace lived with my uncle and his family. My grandparents did the official adoption. Horace had never seen a Christmas tree, and that was his first real Christmas.

Horace died in 2010, at the age of 96. He laid down for a nap and just slipped away.

At least two generations of children grew up with him. He felt immortal to us. He loved Hot Wheels, pizza, cartoons and to talk to the portrait of my grandparents as he sat in his rocking chair.

He knew everyone's birthday. He loved unconditionally.

He had scars on his back from the institutions. If you asked him about that place, his face would screw up and he'd say "oh, it was a bad place. Bad place."

And for 40 years, he was safe, loved, and happy. He loved us in return.

No point to sharing this. But I still miss his laugh as he held a conversation with a portrait, whispering about his day to the people who had helped rescue him.