hi everyone i’m the creator of that viral grilled cheese tutorial post from a few years back, you know, the one that people want to impregnate them. i’m also a disabled poor queer person who’s somewhat serially going through it and i’m making this post to ask for help affording groceries this winter while i’ve got a big fat nothing in my bank account.

groceries are fucking expensive and getting more expensive by the day, and i’d like to be able to not need to stress about that, so if you have some spare funds pls support your local indigenous queer disabled dogthing’s ability to help feed the household…thank you…

in return if i can buy this batch of groceries i will offer one of my old recipes for my followers as thanks. if you liked my grilled cheese you might like this one…

At the point in my life where if I had a genie wish I would be happy to wish to like. Go to a CostCo and know with full confidence that I don’t need to be scared of anything that happens in it. That I can afford everything I need with no issues. That I can experience want for something mildly unnecessary or worth 150$ and not immediately start struggling to breathe through sheer panic. I don’t want to buy the whole store. I don’t even want to buy everything I could conceivably desire from this Costco. The wish is that I’m not scared of any of that desire. I can see it, I can feel it, I can choose whether or not to do something about it without starting to drown. Here is my Paypal for no particular reason by the way in case you cant tell I’m doing really fucking rough right now actually.

In the Glinting Days, when the metal and ceramic temples were closer to new than ancient, rain still came often, falling from the sky in certain seasons like vertical seas. The saltbeds would flood, the canyons would burst, and the roads, those great serpentine beasts, would writhe under a thick inch and a half of rushing water. You read once that there was a type of fish that lived in the sea, but crawled up river waterfalls to give birth again. They would migrate across the roads on that inch and a half, smacking their bodies hard against the ceramic floors of it to cross to the other gutter.

Perhaps, if the rain had kept falling for long enough, those fish’s descendants might have grown feet to more easily make the journey. But the rains stopped eventually, and with it went the seas, and with them the fish, for the most part.

You think they were called “salmon”.