sophibug

When guinea pigs say wheek wheek wheek. Reblog if you agree.

the position of the mischevious pig marks the hours

Driving around my town trying to find one single burger just one burger or a hot dog but Unfortunately everythings just rubble and twisted scaffolding upstretched and rotting and theres shit on fire and a big black ass sky

Guess i cant do shit anymore Cause the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides... And yep, you guessed it: a dark wind blows.

It should be illegal to catch up on a story that is so so good and have to wait for the next installment.

People tagging this with my own story: it's different when I'm doing it.

Yes, it's worse.

Well this week's patreon/ko-fi chapter is straightforward and normal and nobody will be feeling that. So there.

proud victim of the tumblr accent. it's fading out of public consciousness as the tik tok accent takes precedence; a linguistic evolution that makes the tumblr accent 85% funnier to unsuspecting civilians. it's like releasing a disease on a non-inoculated population. coughing baby versus hydrogen bomb.

I once called a colleague's Borzoi a beautiful Gentle Alien, assuming the term had long since become commonplace outside of Tumblr, and discovered when he burst into delighted laughter at the term that it Had Not. I had to explain to him that I'm not a comedy genius, just repeating a niche meme.

I said the same thing to mine! They were twenty-plus years younger than I am, so.... I had to explain what tumblr is.

really the problem is that every post-apocalyptic setting or story or piece of media is that they frame "The Apocalypse" as An Event and suppose that you can neatly draw a line between pre and post apocalyptic society when obviously that is not ever going to be how it works. you can't just skip the time of monsters.

within the treacherous politics of the royal court, every smile concealed a knife. every frown also concealed a knife. in fact it could be assumed that every bland expression of polite disinterest concealed some sort of bladed weapon. every heaving bosom probably had a knife secreted between its breasts, and, depending on their size and amount of sag, two or three more tucked underneath. and let’s just say, you’d be surprised where a flat-chested courtier can hide a stiletto.

of course, for the squeamish and less buxom, there was always poison. poison concealed in gaudy rings. poison concealed in tasteful rings. poison concealed in little vials, poison concealed in false teeth, poison concealed in decorative lapel flowers. poison-laced nail polish. poison spilled on the floor where beloved cats might walk through it and leap onto a master’s lap to make biscuits with pinprick claws. poison in cologne. poison in ear drops. poison in eye drops. poisoned poppers. poisoned condoms. poisoned dental dams. poison coating the blade of a knife. poison coating the hilt of a knife, just to keep you on your toes. one day two guys just started fucking whaling on each other and everyone present burst into tears of ecstatic relief ’cause at least that was something new and interesting.

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