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"im sorry to tell you but this is unfortunately fetish art :( " you’re a coward and a fool. tell me what about eroticism makes it lose value as a piece of art. tell me in what way is lust a less worthy feeling to be depicted in art than anger or joy or sadness or any other human emotion. why did you like it before and why do you not like it now? what changed? why does it upset you? what makes it bad now, what makes it gross, what makes it wrong? do you reject what you dont understand? do you let your gut reaction dictate what you deem bad? what you deem immoral? whats allowed to exist and what isnt?
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I am looking for a human host!
Are you bored?
Are you lonely and bored?
Do you have a lot of time on your hands?
Do you have hands?
I’m offering you a proposal, with potential financial compensation for your troubles. It may sound off putting at first blush, but hear me out. I am looking for a human host. And I mean a “willing” human host who might be willing to give up some of their time to help out an odd fellow that doesn’t have hands or blood.
Am I asking to control your body? Yes. Sometimes. You’ll still be there, but taking the backseat. Now you’re probably thinking “That sounds no fun! I don’t want to spend all my time riding shotgun.”
And that’s valid.
But you all spend about half of the day unconscious anyway. Your body is just there, doing nothing—a complete waste. As for me, I don’t sleep (haha), so we could have it so that during the day, I will graciously let you do fun human things, and at night, I’ll do whatever. And by whatever, I mean perfectly safe, perfectly reasonable activities.
I don’t drink, and I rarely go outside.
I enjoy baking, I look at pictures of birds online, I’ve been getting into neuroscience lately. Very interesting stuff. You’re all very interesting.
And maybe you’re still thinking “Hey now, I don’t want some random mind-controlling thingy hauling my body around in my sleep, “Weekend at Bernie’s Style” to which I say, you’re no fun and you’re not the kind of person I want to live with anyway.
“But I’m a light sleeper!” you say.
Don’t worry! I can isolate your somatosensory cortex so you can’t feel anything.
“But my family will think it’s weird!” you say.
Don’t worry! You don’t have to tell them.
Actually, I would prefer that you don’t tell anyone. Please.
And should anyone question me, I’m not bad at impressions. I’ll get really good at a “you” impression, it’ll be the first thing I do!
I know this all sounds very strange and potentially unpleasant, but remember the financial compensation that may or may not be happening. Hell, I’ll even do some of your chores if you like, while you sleep. You can wake up and the dishes will be done, laundry folded and coffee made. Doesn’t that sound nice? And then you open the fridge and oh, what’s this? Someone baked banana bread last night (that was me, I baked banana bread last night.)
Now I should say, I don’t have a lot of standards, I really don’t. But I do (unfortunately) have some, so let’s just get them out of the way before I waste your time.
Please do not contact me if you have any of the following:
- Anemia: Sorry, it’s just not going to work out. I can pay for iron supplements, but I can’t work miracles.
-A weak immune system: I don’t like getting sick, I’m sorry. It’s gross, sick people are gross. I mean I know it’s not your fault, but healthy folks only please.
-A strong immune system: Yes, I know what I just said, but I also don’t want to be attacked by your immune system. So maybe you’re not the picture of health, but you’re just kind of okay. I’m looking for someone who is just kind of okay.
-A penchant for alcohol: It makes me feel strange…
-A name that starts with a P: I’m not the greatest at “speaking.” It’s hard, moving air through your throat and moving your tongue and your mouth at the same time. You all do it so easy—can’t say I’m not envious! I’m the worst at making the “P” sound.
I intentionally avoid any "p word" in conversation, and get by well enough, but I’ll look pretty foolish if I’m cavorting about, pretending to be you, and I can’t even say your name!
Those are my standards, but really, other than that, I’ll take anyone.
I don’t care if you’re male or female or anything in between.
I don’t care if you’re gay.
I don’t care if you’re smart.
I don’t care if you don’t have a lawyer.
There are so many things that I don’t care about.
Now, I’ve specified all the ways in which I could compensate you and how our relationship will be not in any way problematic, but I want to stress that, above all things, I am looking for a friend.
Someone I can spend quiet evenings with.
If you want to hang out with me during the day, that’s great! I can give you fun hallucinations. Or you could have hallucinations the normal way, like by reading, like what you’re doing now. I love to read! I love doing funny voices. I wonder what you think I sound like?
I hope I sound nice.
And one of the best things about me is I’m very quiet. No one else will be able to hear me except you. I’ll be like your own personal friend that only you know. Like a secret friend. And you don’t even have to talk to me because I can read your thoughts.
I suppose I should tell you a bit more about myself, since you’re still reading.
I was born in the Everglades, I think. It’s been awhile.
But I remember being so cold…
And so alone...
But then I met this sweaty man in a colorful tee-shirt, with a camera, and half a granola bar, and with blood so hot.
So yeah, he was my first host, and I’ll admit, we weren’t the best of friends. It was a confusing time for both of us. I was confused. He was confused. What happened was really both of our faults, you could say…
He was a bird watcher, if I recall correctly. Just watched birds all the time. I thought it might have been out of jealousy—watching those little things flying around makes you feel kind of stuck. I felt stuck.
So I decided to be a bird for a while to see if it was really all it’s cracked up to be. Squished myself into the body of this lovely American crow. We settled down, built a nest, and laid several nice, healthy eggs with a man-bird by the name of “Richard Baxter.”
He was a very proud bird, very large. And he gave me so many wonderful gifts. Like children, and also small pieces of plastic.
I still have all of them.
The plastic, not the children.
I’d never been so happy, all these hormones had me consumed in the joy of motherhood, but the crow’s health was failing. I could not sustain myself—it’s pathetic little heart beat weaker and weaker.
I tried starving, I tried everything I could, I wanted to be a bird so bad. But it just wasn’t working out.
The bird stopped working.
The other crows held a funeral service for me, even though I was still alive. I tried to tell them, but I’m not good at speaking, you remember.
It was all just a big mess.
I haven't seen Baxter since, but I still think about him a lot.
Is that weird?
I’m totally over it though, haha.
After that incident, I got kind of depressed... I possessed a lot of trash animals—gulls, racoons, and salespeople. I did what I could to survive. That’s kind of where I am now.
I am currently living in Miami florida—been body surfing almost every day (haha). Right now I’m using a library computer and a librarian. She does not like being possessed, boy howdy are these fingers twitching. But you can thank her for my halfway decent grammar.
I’m tired of feeling like a parasite.
I want to try a different approach.
I want to be friends? Like with Richard Baxter except I also live in your brain and drink your blood sometimes. But I’ll make you bread in your sleep, so it’s okay.
It’s been really hard finding someone willing to put up with me.
I’ve tried everything.
So I thought I would put up an advertisement online, why not?
Can’t say the P word in real life, but you can hear it in your head loud enough I hope.
I know I kept saying that I would compensate you financially, but I’m going to be real with you, I don’t have much. I’ve got like twenty bucks, some small pieces of plastic and a book about...finance....
But I’m a real hoot! ;D
So,
(P)lease,
If you are interested, leave your comments below. I would love to get to know you :)
I need to go now, the library is closing soon, but I’ll get back as soon as I can.
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an aside but one time I was told by someone who shall remain nameless that I needed to stop treating my plants with such love because plants were inherently evil and spiteful and I'd be much happier once I accepted that and in that moment the sims negative interaction symbol appeared crystal clear in my mind
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if I was in ponyville I would be called stupid fucking cunt the horse lol
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gravity
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𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔰𝔶𝔩𝔲𝔪 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔚𝔞𝔶𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔙𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔞𝔫 𝔊𝔦𝔯𝔩𝔰˚˖𓍢ִ໋⛓️🕯️✧˚.🎀༘⋆
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source (link)
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My mom beat the shit out of me in front of Aziraphale from Good Omens.
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LISA FRANKENSTEIN (2024) dir. Zelda Williams
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