That Strange Owl

i want lists and solutions by the time i finish this jiyuiceh box. warning ⚠️ I. AM. TIRSTY! and it is ᶠʳᵘᶦᵗ punch! and it is delicious

incredible sounds happening here

audio: [so‿ɡ̊o ˈbæʔ t̯ʊ̆‿ðᵊ ˌǁ͜klə̃ː˧˨ə́b̚]

Calico out there putting tuxedo on the mats

happy decade to the horrible beast i have wrought

It is thursday morning. Visualize yourself as the marble, the chisel, and the untrained sculpter who just tried methamphetamine

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.

Reblog this and tell me what was your biggest crying over a piece of fiction. You can be vague if you don't want to spoil.