this game was banned in my school because people would just play it over and over again in the library
motherfuckin thank you
this would be really fucking cool if my arrow keys would fucking work.
THIS IS PERFECT
This game is fucking addicting
Reblog this with the mobile app and add your 5 most most recently used emojis
Science side of tumblr how do I become a jellyfish
Jellyfish have no brains. You’re already pretty close.
- ♂ = I am a boy who has a crush on you
- ♀ = I am a girl who has a crush on you
- () = I am a non binary person who has a crush on you
- * = just delete your tumblr already
- æ = Post a picture of yourself
- $ = You’re awesome
- # = I love your blog
- @ = You’re beautiful
- + = i hate you.
- % = You’re ugly
- <3 = I want to fuck you
- & = I wish we were close
- ~ = I wish we were friends in real life
- ? = I relate to a lot of the same things you go through
- ! = You inspire me
starting today all blogs without the following images will be deleted within 24 hours
((not risking that shit))
THIS TIME WITH EVEN LOOPIER MARCO AND EVEN MORE AWKWARD HANDJOBS.
You came. You read. You blew up my ask box. Shit got silly on twitter and yolownly declared today to be Frickle Frack Friday. I overshot friday by three hours but HERE WE ARE anyway.
Have some more of Marco being terrible at being a vampire and jean being, allthings considered, actually pretty good at being a boyfriend.
And also a juicebox.
(oh yeah it’s a little cheesy but this was my writing music
In the sixth months since I first kissed him, tangled up in that careworn hand-stitched quilt, I managed to convince Marco to drink my blood exactly twice. He’d contracted his own personal brand of freckly - vampire sunstroke on both occasions. The first time a dog, this ridiculous little head on collision between a corgi and some form of collie-ish thing, got clipped by a car on the main road and limped up the alley into our lot and he spent the two hottest hours of the day coaxing the whimpering, snapping mess into a box to get her to the vet. (“Why the hell didn’t you just call me?” “I don’t think straight when there’s cute things!”) The little gray-and-black corglie left a couple of holes in my hand during the process of transporting her to the vet school, and by the time I’d finished filling out forms and come home he was once again a shivering heap in his big four-poster bed, stomach full of an ice-cold AB+ slushie and it wasn’t too hard to crawl into his nest and convince him to lick away the scabs forming on the (thoroughly disinfected okay) holes in my wrist.
The second time I got a text at around 4 am announcing, without preamble, that the last time he saw a sunrise Jimmy Carter was president and at 8 am I more or less scraped him off his front porch with a spatula.