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Happy pride month to my dad. When I came out as bi to him, this man googled what it ment, look at me and said "ohh. Yeah. You get that from me. You'd have far more siblings of I only shaged women." And went right back to his work emails.

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Stories should have in-universe clichés and stereotypes. A teenage dragon rider who gets a dragon who will be his steed for life and is a solid inky black and immediately names her Midnight. He then immediately encounters someone who sees his steed who goes "lmao please don't tell me you're one of those young riders who gets a dark-colour dragon and immediately names it Darkness or Midnight or something, and starts acting like being dark and broody has been their whole thing their whole life."

And he immediately scrambles back like "oh no of course not that's cringe, her name is - uh - Daisy."

Meanwhile the Morbid Broody Dark Gothy One is bonded with a bright dandelion yellow dragon, naming her steed Sulfur and then revamps her whole aesthetic into a black-and-yellow Toxins, Poisons And Venoms -theme.

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there should be more options than suffering via employment and suffering via unemployment

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Y’all I just learned that unusually high sugar and carb cravings are a symptom of dopamine deficiency

If you’re adhd and experience a deep and all-encompassing urge to eat cake at least five times a day boy do I have news for you

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A fantasy story starting with the protagonist minding her own business gathering firewood, when a demon appears out of nowhere announcing that she belongs to him now. The protagonist demands to know on what grounds, she's never signed no damn contract. The demon is kind of baffled by this, and awkwardly explains that just now her father had promised his firstborn for something, and she is his firstborn.

The protagonist digs her heels in and says no, she never knew her biological father and by the way the demon explained the situation, evidently her father also doesn't know that he already has a daughter, so therefore the man who had made no contribution to her life after he bred and fled has no claim to her as something he could barter.

Not giving a shit about the fact she's gambling her life in doing so, the protagonist makes contact with the local woodland fae, asking them to negotiate on her side. The fae think that this is fucking hilarious and go with her. So, having lawyered up and with a reluctant demon in tow, the protagonist heads off on a quest to find her father and do whatever it takes to wrangle everyone involved into unmaking the contract.

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yeah im “transitioning” *dissolves into tiny pieces as i click to the next slide*

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crafting a plane launcher with chopsticks by 小小折纸手工

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a feel like the new generation of fanfic readers NEED to understand that clicking on a fic (interaction) does nothing. ao3 has no algorithm. your private discord discussions of fic do not reach the authors. if you do not actively engage with writers they will stop posting. this isn’t social media this is community.

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i know the idea of 'hear me out' type posts is weird non-conventional attraction but i also have a fascination for the people whos 'hear me outs' are conventionally attractive characters from the most OBSURE media. like if you were asked to name a sexy character and your first thought is the girl from a mostly forgotten 1980s canadian animated scifi musical im gonna be way more intrigued by whats going on in your brain than if you had said like. the dragon from shrek yknow.

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I had a dream last night that tumblr came up with a pride flag for closeted gays and it was just a light blue flag with a shrimp on it. People would also wear shrimp pins on their lapels for some Reason???

and the vegan gays started Discourse because shrimp deserved more respect

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fights I would pay to see: sigmund “everyone is attracted to someone” freud vs John “sexual desire is evil and cereal can and will fix it” Kellogg

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i love when ppl say “that’s so you” it feels good to know i exist and have a vibe

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So apparently Tumblr ate my original post about this but:

A couple weeks ago I’m going to get lunch and as I open the fridge, my mother attempts to communicate to me that any chicken currently in the fridge is ok for people to eat, because the chicken that was intended for the dog to eat has been used up.

What she actually says is, “That’s human chicken.”

After taking a minute to process all horrible implications of the phrase “human chicken”, I decide to go a different route and hold the tupperware of chicken out to my sister, saying, “Behold, a man!”

This was evidently the wrong choice, as it meant I had to explain to my parents who Diogenes was, thereby cementing the incident in their minds and leading to me, just now, opening the fridge to see the following incredibly cursed image:

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