I Feel Confident Enough To Post These Now. A Collection Of All The Existing Posters After Some Edits

Hey, can y’all rb this if it’s okay to send you messages asking about your ocs, cause on god I wanna interact with y’all but I am terrified of being annoying lol

"what do you do to contribute to society" i post my ocs to tumblr dot com lol.... 5 people on there like them.......

happy birthday to this man

Trio of Rat Kings

little doodle of my sona i did to use as an icon :3

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on” Okay it’s fine to hate me or whatever but you do understand the horse is not a part of this right. Like he’s only here because I got on his back and steered him here. I treat him exceptionally well but if he saw anything slightly strange he would run into the woods and forget about me forever. Take it back.

want to be clear that if i ever talk about a headcanon and then later discuss a headcanon that is directly contradictory to the first one, that’s because headcanons exist in a quantum state where they are all simultaneously true and not true up until the point where i discuss it in detail, in which case that is the one that is true in that instance. schroedinger’s headcanons

I'm knitting in the corner at a party

and guys my age stop by to tell me I remind them of their aunt, of their grandmother. This is a compliment and I take it as such. They confess to having tried crochet once, and I smile. They get back in line for the bathroom.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and a queer woman sits on the floor next to me, arranges her skirt, and smiles up at me. (I try not to blush.) She asks me all the questions on her mind about my craft and I answer them, hands still moving. We swap yarn sources. She doesn't stay, but she knows where to find me.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and everyone knows where to find me when they need a minute, when socializing is too much and the music is too loud and they need to catch their breath. They pretend to be checking in on me, which is sweet, but I can see the relief in their eyes the moment they stop performing for a house full of people. They sit down and tell me things and all the while they never take their eyes off my hands.

The party has wound down and I'm still knitting and the hosts, two guys in their twenties, thank me for "helping to curate the vibe." I had no idea that's what I was doing. I leave the party having forgotten to drink anything and without that woman's number but with many rows added to my top-down raglan sweater. I call it a night, and a good one.

Imagine an eleven year old Harry Potter, fresh from the greenhouses and his first Herbology class, secretly covered in snakes under his robes. They’re just so nice, it can’t hurt to carry them around and keep them warm. They know their way around the school better than him, anyways.

Enter Professor Snape, starting his first class of Griffindor first year Potions.

“Cloaks and robes off, you will be utilizing open flames; loose, draping fabric will catch fire and send you to the hospital wing.”

Harry and a few other students keeps theirs on, trying to blend into the walls. It does not work.

“ROBES AND CLOAKS OFF. Quickly. You are wasting valuable class time.”

Harry removes his, very reluctantly. His arms and legs wriggle with garden snakes.

“Mr. Potter, what the fuck.”

“They’re my friends, professor.”

Snape walks up to Harry, helping get some of these creatures off of him.

“Why are you crawling with snakes, Mr. Potter?”

“They’re so nice, Professor Snape. Plus they told me the fastest way to your class.”

“You speak to snakes?”

“Always have, yeah.”

Snape realizes he is in no way paid enough to deal with this.

WE WERE LITERALLY TOGETHER THE OTHER DAY AND UR BOOTS MADE U BARELY TALLER THAN ME UR FIVE FOOT NINE

if you’re lgbt reblog this and tag your identity, height, and whether you walk slow or fast