I appreciate the metric system for functionality’s sake but it just doesn’t flow as romantically when used in narrative
“he ran kilometer after kilometer, until the sun dipped into the horizon”
“his father was the meterstick against which he measured his worth”
“her heart beat faster with every 25 millimeters he approached”
enourmo said: “On a clear day you can see for kilometers” “hedwig and the angry 2.5cm”
♪ BUT I WOULD WALK 804.672 KILOMETERS AND I WOULD WALK 804.672 MORE JUST TO BE THE MAN WHO WALKED 1609.34 KILOMETERS TO FALL DOWN AT YOUR DOOR. ♪
The real reason Americans kept the customary system: aesthetic.
Tag: text
[goes through my own blog]
me: THIS IS THE TYPE OF CONTENT I WANT TO SEE
Literally no trope emotionally fucks me up faster than “Character outlives their lover by many years and at the end of their life their lover comes to escort them from the world” like I only have to think about it hypothetically to start crying.
Imagine a fae who is just so mad about the idea of lying, like, I have spent a thousand years studying the subtle arts of deceit, weaving my spells of glamour and misdirection, and you, human, can just stand there and
say things
that aren’t true
“So yeah, I’m, uh, bright purple.”
“But you’re not! That’s not even plausible! How can you just – you are not even puce. Fine. Fine. Another one.”
“Are you sure? You seem pretty mad.”
“I assure you I am wholly and terribly sane.”
“Heh, you know that’s not the kind I meant.”
“Hssssss.”
“Haha, fine, fine. I’m … a dragon.”
“nO YOU’RE NOT THOUGH–”
i’ve seen this as screenshots and it’s even more beautiful on my dash
My bestfriend : So who’s the worst villian you’ve ever seen in a fanfiction?
Me : Miscommunication
partner: what about we roleplay tonight ;))
me: alright. the year is 1832, in france. i’m the leader of a student revolution. you’re a drunk artist. we have desperate sex because we are so very afraid of dying. and then we die, holding hands. beautiful.
I would date an actor just so I can tell people that my boyfriend’s an actor and then they’d be like “oh? What’s he been in?” And I’d say “me” and raise my wine glass and laugh because in this scenario I’m at a fancy cocktail party.
Me: *gets story idea*
Me: This is so obvious and clever it practically writes itself!
*later*
Narrator: It did not write itself.
persephone's corner 