It'd Be A Shame If I Were To. . .POST PICTURES OF MY CATS

Elmo popcorn

I have so much social anxiety that I get anxiety online like what if your judging me yes you reading this

reblog to blow up an ableist

So true bestie 🙏

Attempted rendering 😭

"Please, I wish for food!" The child cried.

I spawn the most luxurious buffet for them, "And for your second wish?"

"A house!" The child said between bites of lobster.

I spawn a mansion, "Your third wish?"

The child stopped in thought for a moment before speaking, "A loving family, please!"

Nothing appeared and I grinned, "Hello, I'm your new dad."

The two of us lived a happy life.

You’re a Genie with thousands of years of bad luck. It seams that every time someone finds the lamp, they are evil or corrupt and you are bound to grant terrible wishes. One day an child in torn clothes finds you and begs for food.

Need to solve a dispute

Tyga Baby cat

Literally sobbing. A judge, a US judge defended us. A judge brought up intersex people, using the term intersex, to *defend* us by not allowing our erasure. I'm having a lot of feelings right now

Oh, pain! That’s not good.

Someone looked down at their foot, the thickened skin torn and chewed. They’d peeled too many layers and their nail stabbed through the last one, the corner of their heel was trickling blood.

Panic welled up, they didn’t like blood. Blood meant something was wrong, something was hurt. Blood stays on the inside, they cannot bleed—shaky breaths, shaking, shallow, breaths. Why are they so worked up? They had forgotten why, why can’t they remember anymore?

Not that they ever could, not that they couldn’t, they can’t remember.

Another stab of pain brings them back, they’d begun picking, picking, picking, again. It’s a bad habit. They applied pressure to the wound. That was what they were supposed to do, right? They  lifted their hand and thought for a moment.

No, don’t pick at their hand! They couldn't pick their hand, people would see it, it’d be exploited—shaky breaths, slower, deeper, breaths. Is that even your hand?

You need to calm down.

Your eyes flickered to the wall in front of you, where were you? It didn’t seem familiar, but then again, you weren’t familiar with anything. 

The wall was? Gray? You squinted, it didn’t look like any color, more like a mash of pixels on a broken screen. Maybe it was your eyes that were broken. Your breath slowed.

You pondered the idea that you were just looking at a screen, perhaps it's just a post on tumblr that’s dragging you in by the collar. You blinked.

Turning your head, you realized it was dark in this room. Too dark, someones hand reached back towards your foot. You paused, you remembered.

Their breath sped up, They don’t like the dark. What’s around them? Their vision focused, blood pounded in their ears. Someones in there. Wait. You’re the someone.

You remembered again. You’re the someone. You listened for a moment, nothing. You’re the someone. You took a deep breath. You’re the someone.

You’re in your room, what time is it? No, that’d stress you out more. Your eyes were heavy, maybe you’re tired.

You look at what you’re sitting on, it’s your bed. Looking at it makes you ache, you hadn’t slept due to your fears. The bed was so inviting and you were so, so tired.

You felt yourself lie down and breathe.

And everything was okay.