let's up the ante!

Actually I've decided this is a poem

huis louis and the nuis

huis louis and his nuis

huis louis and huis nuis

it's ok, you'll get there eventually

dont give up!

everyone talks about the ocasional like from the respected mutual that makes you go oh thank god you haven't unfollowed me but no one ever talks about how it will never be on a good post. it's never you at your posting best it's always on some bullshit like: made sanbwich. with loaf (bad pun for love)

stop treating killing dragons as this act of bravery and valor. maybe ou should be kissieng and loving the dragons instead. and be more niceys

idea: turn a girl into a vaporbeon and uhhhh. i dont know. now she's blue and weird

she's all like what's happening to meeeee and you're like lolllll you're likesome kind of fishdog

🫪 are you talkbing about me

Are you perhaps blue and weird? A little flooby even?

that sbounds nice 😭💙

idk i would personally rather give up access to certain products seasonally or locally than have people enslaved to give me the ability to have any product any place any time. i think i can go without tomatoes in january.

i truly do think that most people if confronted with it and pressed on it would agree. but it's comfortable to gain privileges from someone else's suffering, especially if you don't have to see that suffering directly.

Just a casual reminder that posting on the internet about how you would want to do physical harm to members of the US government is something that they can (and will) detain you over, so just be careful what you say in public spaces like, uh, on Tumblr.

this is your semi-regular reminder that tumblr has cooperated with the fbi to hand over user information in a very public way at least once. and that's not the only way the feds can collect information on you either

one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.