but can this ai "generate" you some bitches? lol.

nobody on this site is ever ever EVER going to top running a blog dedicated entirely to posting cute pics of sweet old dogs in a shelter for a year and gradually becoming one of the most recognized blogs on the website, then without warning dropping “i just want to get dicked down again =/” with 0 explanation and abandoning the blog. not deleting it, not explaining anything, just leaving the whole thing as a monument. fucking flawless posting. literally the best of all time.

I just want to get dicked down again =/

Saddest thing ever is reading an academic paper about a threatened or declining species where you can tell the author is really trying to come up with ways the animal could hypothetically be useful to humans in a desperate attempt to get someone to care. Nobody gives a shit about the animals that “don’t affect” us and it seriously breaks my heart

This is how I learn there's a moth whose tiny caterpillars live exclusively off the old shells of dead tortoises.

gonna go write some fanfic to honour anne rice’s memory, rip 

She’d hate this so much but I can’t help feeling that in terms of her wider significance in the story, it’s entirely fitting.

lifehack: when you see a Take One candy bowl in a restaurant, wait until noones looking and shovel candy into your pockets. god may judge you but his sins outnumber your own

“God may judge you but his sins outnumber your own.” We really need to start collecting and sourcing these Potent Quotables.

“Kill me. Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you won.” -fucking Warrior Cats

literally everything always feels like a performance to me. i’ll be uncontrollably sobbing and will suddenly be like wow i would’ve won an oscar for this

I was in a beginner’s fiction writing class once and we read a Borges piece to interpret and discuss and my interpretation was that he was describing the kind of weird mental state writers can wind up in where we mine everything –everything– for material. So, I’ll be filled with immense grief or joy or fear or what have you, and at the same time there’s this little disassociated piece of myself going “oh, so this is what x feels like, ok. What’re the physical sensations? What are the thoughts like? etc. etc” and analysing my experiences as they happen and figuring out how I’d put them into a narrative. I described it as having this omnipresent voyeur inside of one’s experience. And, other than our professor, no-one else at all got or could relate to what I was saying, except for a classmate who was an actor, who felt himself doing the exact same thing. 

if youre getting queerbaited by marvel thats on you

Captain Marvel is literally Super Lesbian. Change my mind.

Congrats, this post was made for you specifically.

you are not immune to gay Twitter