ship ask game 😁1 Who would be first to to bite down anc consume the flesh of the other, euphoric in the taste and the heft and the slide of the blood 2. who is the ant and who is the ophiocordyceps fungus? 3. who is the dog and who is the master? 4 when the roles are blurred or reversed who would be first to die and how? would it be by bulletwound? the phallic blade? strangulation? 5. Cocaine or Heroin? 6. who licks up the other’s cigarette ash? 7 who is julius caesar and who is brutus? 8. who is jesus and who is judas? 9. did jesus want it? did julius caesar know it was coming? are the betrayed ever proud? 10. who is irrumatus and who is irrumans? who is pedicatus and who is pedicans? 11. did they ever kiss and why not? 12 if they are two sides of the same coin who is heads and who is tails? 13. and if the coin was the holey dollar? 14. And if the dog bit back? 15 and if the dog bit back? 16 and if the dog bit back? 17 and if the dog bit back? 18 and if the dog bit back? 19 and if the dog bit back? 20. Who buys the other flowers?🥰

we shpuld make a tumblr bar with drinks like sonic screwdriver and the baker street mule

just got out of my time capsule btw

Super! Who locked you in there?

oh no my pornography is turning into an angst-filled character study

Oh no my angst-filled character study is turning into pornography

Tell me a soft memory

we would find out later i had burned off my entire cornea - about 65% of my eye. my doctor told me it is the organ with the highest concentration of nerve endings - i was in an amount of pain that can't be spoken.

and i was blind. for the first time in my life, i was totally blind. i kept thinking about reading, about writing. weirdly, just once, about driving. we had no idea if i would ever see again. just like that - my entire life was different.

it is a strange place to reference for a soft memory, to begin here.

my siblings were taking excellent care of me, but there was a moment in the hospital where, just through bad luck and timing - both of them had to step away for a moment. i was crying at that point; not emotionally. for 3 days after this i would still be crying, my tears, like a mermaid's, a frothy pink with blood.

my brother worried about leaving me. he had another, just-as-bad emergency.

"i got her," someone said. "don't worry."

a soft hand held mine, and then she started talking.

her name was jess. she has a wife named clyde. they live a few blocks up the street. clyde fell down, but the x-rays seem to be coming back better than expected. jess says she's got long dark hair and "more wrinkles than an elephant". jess describes every chair in the room and every person. she talks about her two kids and her cats and her favorite memories from college.

a doctor came. i had to switch to a different waiting room. i tried to stand up to follow the voice - i found jess's hand, following me. she didn't let go. she kept talking the whole way: lamp to your left, just a few more steps, okay to your right is the ugliest painting, good, now a little more walking straight, you got it baby

in the new silence of the next room she sat me down and called my brother for me, telling him where we'd gone to. and she stayed there for a bit, just chatting, her voice echoing in the eerie quiet. gently describing the room to me. and then someone was rude. from the sound of the voice, a kid, i think.

"why is she crying?"

"she just lost her vision," jess said. "she can't see."

"oh." said the kid. "that's scary."

the kid tells me he is here because he has peas stuck up his nose. that makes me laugh, his mom (?) groans. she tells me about the kid (he's 6, he likes paw patrol and eating cheese), about herself, about moving from cali.

jess says she's sorry, but she has to leave now, she's gotta go check on her wife.

"don't worry," says the mom. "i got her." and then i felt her hand press into mine.

for hours like that: i am taken care of by strangers. each person just talking with whatever comes to their head - not for any reward or celebrity or real reason, i guess. just because i am scared and alone and in the hospital and blinded and need to be distracted. not everyone even got told the story - they would just pick up in the silence with - oh by the way the television is playing HGTV - do you like that kind of a thing? yeah, me too, but could never quite get into those open-floor plans, i'll tell you -

by the time my brother is able to come back, the room is buzzing. we talk to each other like old friends, laughing, cracking jokes about if you don't like hospital food wait until you get on an airplane and can't believe i'm up past two in the morning what a party animal i'm becoming. i am holding the hands of someone named drew, who likes my crow tattoo and making crochet snails.

there are many dark moments full of pain in this world. this - in the low of absolute-dark, absolute-pain: people find a way to paint in it anyway. the color splash of their voices: this triumphant, radiating kindness of - let's be here together, let me help you, let's keep going.

i never saw their faces. i can't remember many of their names. but i think about them often, and the way we all took a deep breath - and did something gentle amongst the pain.

Most of us could probably stand to benefit from reading this. I did. It’s really lovely.

during october vampires are at their most powerful. they don’t physically get stronger it’s just a pleasant confidence boost.

so do werewolves, they ain't special

this isn’t about werewolves make your own post

Misread this as octopuses

wanted to draw Her

They deserve all the happiness in the world

Little before bed drawing because I love them

All I need is to scroll twitter for 5 min and my drawing schedule is BOOKED

Prr Omens or Kitty Omens? 🐱

THIS ALSO GOES FOR WRITING

REBLOG REBLOG REBLOG! EVEN IF YOU DON’T ADD TAGS.

I LOVE PEOPLE WHO REBLOG MY ART, I GET DOWN ON ONE KNEE FOR YOU

I LOVE PEOPLE WHO

REBLOG MY ART, I GET DOWN

ON ONE KNEE FOR YOU

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

We've had to lock up the fertility god because every time we try writing an amusing story about them, it unfortunately gets too close to horny.

Locked up you say?

In a cell! You're the second one to question how I meant locked up, I guess that's expected given the month.

But no. We didn't put the god of fertility in a chastity cage/belt. You're a fool if you think that'd have any affect on their ability to make people pregnant.

i think you should elaborate on their ability to make people pregnant. no reason

I have looked at your blog and no I will not be doing that :)

job applications asking questions like "would you rather play jenga with the weight of all human souls, or chess with the fate of all men?" and then getting mad because the correct answer was "i would ask the customer if they'd like to purchase any additional items"

this was a historical moment in television

Apparently the rights to do this set back the budget for the rest of the season to like $5 and a peanut butter sandwich but it was abso-fucking-lutely worth every red cent

@captainswan618 wait bro is this real??

On one hand I understand not teaching cursive in school anymore, because it actually is slower than regular handwriting and almost everything is typed on a keyboard now anyways.

On the other hand, so much of our (even recent!) history was written in cursive, and having a whole generation of kids who can't read letters written by their grandparents, momentos saved by their great-grandparents, or even photo albums from theur immediate family seems like a dangerously quick way to detach us from previous generations.

And on the third, related but slightly malformed hand, I feel bad that yet another form of small, everyday art that brings joy in the middle of mundane tasks, which celebrates personality and individual style and self-expression, is about to fade into obscurity because it wasn't efficient enough for today's world to put up with.

Like... if we continue to whittle away the small arts out of every day life, what's going to be left except stark, ruthless pragmatism?

Maybe writing a grocery list is less mundane when you get to feel elegant for a moment. Maybe you're a little more proud of what you write when you see it flow together like a painting

Sometimes I make posts that are like “Hey guys, maybe everything being optimized for efficiency and cheapness leaves some major defects in the average person’s ability to thrive psychologically” and some of you pop off like I’ve said I want to kill everyone who uses insulin with my bare hands, when mostly what I’m talking about is this sort of thing.

Imagine River coming to visit her parents one night and falling asleep on the sofa, and Rory puts a blanket over her and a pillow under her head but internally he’s grieving the fact that he never got to carry small-her upstairs and into her own bedroom and kiss her forehead goodnight, and she’s too big now and they don’t really know each other

@captainswan618