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a couple good shots of vega after i figured out what kind of clothes she likes wearing

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a dragonborn druid (they/them) that came from the comment meme 

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“1. I don’t have a cat. 2. I DON’T HAVE A CAT.” (via brenaclifton)

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so the moon is going to be pink on lesbian visibility day...

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me doing pushups: ….mob psycho 91…mob psycho 92……mob psycho 93……

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I... I just opened tumblr... got bored of it... closed tumblr... and then opened it again immediately....

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i think my saddest moment as an Australian was finding out that the rest of the world doesn’t say “never eat soggy weetbix” to figure out the order of the compass

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Apparently when my grandma first came to America she didn’t know what a raccoon was and assumed it was a fucked up cat and adopted it. I just imagine this 13 yr old girl with a heavy Eastern European accent being like “this is my cat, Petr. He is not very friendly”

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hm

how long do you think five spent in the apocalypse just looking, searching, circling around? how much time do you think he spent lost, terrified he’d never know which way he was going? how many times did he cry, looking around and knowing he was the only one left? 

five is the definition of never stopping, sleeping with one eye open, if he keeps working towards his goal he’ll be okay. that’s the way the world works right? days bleeding in to night, never long enough to focus on his emotions.

but he was thirteen, he was a child. how many times do you think he sat in a daze of grief, when everything got too overwhelming, and just lost days to that sadness. the emptiness.

how many times did he get angry at being the only one left, at being left behind? yelling to the clouds, the grey haze of the world as if it might respond to him, how many times did he lose his temper and destroy whatever was left standing just to know he’d made an impact on the world?

how many times did he contemplate giving up? it’s easy to look at him and know he always had a goal but a life spent totally alone is draining, it’s deadly to the soul. did he ever think of how easy it would be to just move on, get his family back another way? how many times did he have to convince himself to keep going despite his fear?

how many times was he scared? how many times did he dare to hope only to have that hope crushed when the noise turned out just to be the wind, the creaking of a building settling, the eiree cry of a storm heckling on the horizon? 

what was the relief was like, when he saw the Handler, when he realised she was real? how long did it take to convince himself that she was real? do you think he’d imagined being saved before?

how did he mould himself among the desolation, like some angel of the lost? how many trinkets did he find, buried in the dirt, a child’s toy, a mother’s handbag? did he keep any of them to remind himself that there had been life once. on the planet, in his mind. did he ever forget?

there’s just so many questions.

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i need to know what "pennycrumbs (you wouldnt steal a dog?? ...unless)" is

...five steals a dog JKHWEFJDSHK

“No, I—alright, your dog, got it. Pretty sure he wasn’t here yesterday, though, so? Where’d you get him?”

Why can a prepubescent look so menacing petting a dog? This is a phenomenon to be further explored at a later date.

“The pet store. Which would be obvious, unless you were stupid. Which you are, clearly.”

“Where did you get money for a dog? And dog supplies?”

“I obtained him through money-less means.”

Luther opens his mouth—and closes it. Takes a deep breath and counts to five.

“You stole a dog,” he says.

and also

“Are you really going to deny your poor, traumatized, teenage brother a pet?”

“You’re fifty-eight,” Luther points out. Five looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“Not right now I’m not.” Which Luther correctly interprets as, only when it suits me.

yeah literally thats it the entire thing is just “five has stolen a dog, what now” kjhfewkdksdkj

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Outfit exchange🐆

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delores: you are in his dms. i was a psychological manifestation of his intense deprevation of human contact. we are not the same.

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why would you willingly go to mass

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hope cave johnson is having a slutty, slutty birthday party

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penis and pussy are fully interchangeable words everyones genitals can be penis and/or pussy at any time. thats my opinion.

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i’m a gun i’m a gun / won’t you shoot me off ?

hannibal