This Is What We Want To See

happy death day to that salad dressing guy. it was a lot harder to make people so angry that you got cancelled before twitter was around, but congrats, you done it.

Someone has been arguing back and forth in the comment section of one of my BNHA fics for almost a year now. The world is full of people.

In 1944 a kitten named George (short for General Electric) was saved from drowning by a U.S. Navy crew member. George was then photographed and given a liberty card and detailed health record. Source.

I didn't think much of other people before the incident.

Humans are cruel; I am aware of that. Everybody is. Humans are cold, selfish, and prideful. Kids are self-centered and the ego they gain as they grow does them no favors.

Being a tree gives you a lot of time to think. A lot of time to miss the little things you had. I miss the taste of the apples I ate in the morning, miss the feeling of a soft blanket under my hands, miss the way my love's arms would wrap around me while we slept.

I don't know how I'm seeing what is happening around me. Feeling as a tree is very strange. I feel a squirrel running on my branches and the bugs crawling beneath my bark and the ivy winding its leaves around mine. There's so many sensations but also not. I normally feel like I'm asleep, but sometimes I'll wake up and just feel for a long time.

I don't really know where I am or how long it has been. There are sidewalks and people and a lot of dogs, so I think it is some kind of park. The days bleed together - the sky is always cloudy and there's enough street lights around that I can't always tell if it is night time unless I focus. It's peaceful this way, really. I don't know if I miss being human.

I don't know a lot of things these days. My thoughts aren't very clear and it takes a while for anything coherent to really form. I should probably be more worried about this, but that's not something a tree can manage, I guess.

I've learned a lot about people this way. I can feel the emotions behind their words and actions in a way I never had before. Friends have picnics in my shade, kids climb my branches, joggers stop to rest against my trunk. There's so much passion in everything they do. It's incredible, really.

A lady came by one day. She seemed to know that I could hear her? It was pretty lucky that I was awake, honestly, so if I wasn't she would've been talking to nothing. People stared at her weird anyways. I guess talking to random trees isn't normal, huh?

She asked me how I was doing and if I enjoyed my punishment. I didn't really understand; what was I being punished for? what was the punishment? It took a while for me to remember that I wasn't always a tree. I knew I had memories of a before, of a time where I lived as one of the humans, but memories don't work right as a tree. She was surprised. I don't know why. What was she expecting?

She asked if I had learned my lesson. Told me that they had stopped looking for me already... that they didn't care.

I'm the one that didn't care anymore. I am happy this way. No stress, no worries, nothing. Just passive observation and sleep. It was the most peaceful time of my life, I think.

I grew tired and started to lose my grip on hearing and sight, slowing slipping into sleep. the last thing I saw was the woman standing between my roots with a faraway look in her eyes. After that, I never saw her again.

You angered a witch, and in retaliation, she transformed you into an unmovable tree in a public park. Months later, she returns with the sinister hope of reveling in your suffering, only to find that you are not only surviving but thriving and happier than ever before.

My tattoo artist told me his teenage son came out to him as trans by giving him a bunch of blue cupcakes and a greeting card that said "it's a boy!"

"That's cute," I said.

"It was NOT cute!" he snapped. "I thought he was pregnant."

wondering if I should post my oneshots here. they're already on my ao3 account, which matches my Tumblr, but I don't know if I want that on my main page. contemplation

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

His eyebrow piercing……

I’m proud to identify as morosexual. I’m attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. A guy asked me what the Spanish word for tortilla was once and now I dream of kissing him under the moonlight

"bluey sets unrealistic expectations for parents" like we haven't all wondered why our parents don't do things with us like the TV parents do. the expectations are already set higher than they're getting to. they aren't even reaching for the bar -- in fact, they're actively trying to limbo underneath it