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Gosh.

Must be rough for them.

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There was a young man from Peru

Whose limericks stopped at line two

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For all the MTG fans, if you know, then you know.

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rb to take prev to the aquarium

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getting neutered would fix me

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“oooh i need junji ito to write me an essay” okay so youre a little baby so youre a little baby waby who needs mommys help

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i have deeply ingrained little sister instincts (annoy older girls until they hit me)

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Artists will be like "I love drawing disabled people! This is what disabled looks like!" and then visibly recoil the second they see a person with muscle spasticity or tendon shortening or facial/limb differences. And god forbid they have to draw, like, an actual wheelchair that someone would actually use- i never see people illustrating body supports or restraints, leg bags, mouth controls, and so on. Drawing an otherwise able bodied-appearing character holding a cane is not enough and you know it. I hope the guilt crushes you

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the average twitter vs tumblr community experience

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spiders have got to figure out contracting I need to be able to call my local spiders union and be like "hey can you send a guy out for a few days the fruit flies are back" and then pay it in spider currency. I'll learn the conversion rates. I'll be generous with my rounding. please.

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Are u even having fun on tumblr if u don't gain a slight crush on a mutual. Are u even using it right. Let's be honest

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hey does anyone know the best size enclosure for my new medieval knight? i want him to have enough space to wander around and go on quests

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a creature turned up on my back porch. it looked a lot like me. hands. eyes. lips.

“can you teach me how to live?”

i told it that i didn’t know much how to live myself, but i’d try.

i showed it how to hold a toothbrush. a spoon. a pen.

“and how do you hold a conversation?”

i smiled apologetically and went on. this is how to sleep. this is how you dream. and when you’re done, you open your eyes and wake up.

“can i watch you open yours?”

we spent some time practicing. face to face. eyes looking into eyes.

i taught it how to smile. frown. it licked its lips before i could teach it how.

“my mouth feels wanting”

i told it that the feeling was called hunger. i went inside to find something for it to eat.

when i came back out the creature was gone. i guess it had learned everything it wanted to know. i ate the food i had gathered. and i still felt hungry.

i looked at my reflection in the window.

“can you teach me how to live?”

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I found one of those things you call a mermaid on the pier the other night. All tied up and thrashing its poor body around like a fish caught in a net.

That image repulsed me. You know I've never been one for fishing. Even catch and release puts me off. I don't like to watch the poor thing slowly suffocating as it waits to be thrown back in, its gills heaving and sputtering for water.

That creature tied up on the pier, the gash of gills on its neck was heaving and sputtering just in that way, dark ocean water flowing out with every failed breath, it really made me sick.

I pulled out my pocket dagger and its attention was on me. Its eyes bulged wide and I wondered if, like a fish, it couldn't blink. The sight of my dagger set it off into another thrashing fit and I tried to calm it down. Poor thing didn't seem to understand a word. It kept opening and closing its faded lips, but nothing came out. Must've spoke some kinda fish language.

I held it firmly in place and slowly brought the dagger to the knots binding its wrists. It calmed down after seeing that I wasn't here to cut its flesh. Or maybe it had just lost all energy from being out of the water too long. Either way, it stayed still as I cut the ropes around its legs.

When it was freed, it just lay there on the pier. So still it might've been dead, other than the weak flapping of the gill at its throat. I needed to get it into the water, and fast.

I lifted it up, one arm under its neck, the other under its knees. Its skin was slightly warm, unlike any fish I'd ever briefly held. But the same clamminess. Warmer than its skin was the water spurting from its gills.

I stepped closer to the edge of the pier and the thrashing returned. It must've known it was going back home, and was getting excited. I took a step back to gather momentum, and pushed forward with all my might, throwing the creature in kicking and flailing.

It hit the water with a splash, and stayed at the surface for a moment. Almost like it was treading water. Must've wanted to say thanks. After a few seconds it slowly sunk down. Back to its home.

I imagined the slit in its neck filling up with ocean water and I could finally breathe easy again. I couldn't get that sick taste out of my mouth for awhile, though. Same sick taste of my first fishing trip.

"Who cut its neck?" I remember asking my mama as the fish struggled in my hand, tail thrashing, scales cold. She told me those were its gills, that's how it breathed. Through the slits in its throat.

"So it's breathing through its neck?"

"No, sweetie. Not now."

I took one last look over the pier into the dark water below, getting darker. That fish is breathing now. It's gotta be.

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ppl managing to live where they grew up is really bizarre to me

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"i can get to level 100 tailoring without doing any fishing right??"

the noble pen shell: ...