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traditional celtic folk music makes me go buck fucking wild. i don’t know what it is, if it’s just in my blood or if it’s a past life or just ‘cause it’s objectively soulful but I hear that fiddle and I immediately transform into this heartbroken irish widow in 1787 with a shawl draped over my shoulders staring over the cliffs of moher, waiting for my ghostly lover to return from sea
To me, working in necromancy means
- Accepting my own death
- Using the knowledge that I will someday die as motivation to get out and live the best life that I can
- Engaging with history
- Engaging with my heritage
- Outlet for my interest in death-related activism
- Engagement with the unexplained, which I might otherwise be afraid of
- A commonality with all people
- Knowledge that a long road will be rewarded at the end with a quiet, eternal peace
Also
- Cool skulls and shit
Y’all can keep at it with that “Romeo and Juliet fell in love in five days how immature” shiz but Macbeth went from no murder to yes murder in like one afternoon and I feel like one of those is a significantly bigger problem than the other
I’m goin back to 2010 y’all want anything
carrie fisher
woolandcoffee 