Waddle like a Penguin @penguinnsquad - Tumblr Blog

what "no sugar added" should mean: the natural sugars of the other ingredients like fruit are the only source of sweetness in this product

what is actually means: we added a fuckton of artificial sweeteners

saint-ambrosef

i see we are all angry about this

alwaystiredshark

More of my art @alwaystiredshark

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artsubject13

No one:

Me: posts fanart of ships that died 10 years ago

calicorocket

beau. please. how am I supposed to make edits of dope monk shit when you've got a fursuit on.

foldbaron

It's finally here.

gorgynei

all the flashes from the scene with the beacons. crazy stuff to put in episode ONE

doizy

This line is very funny when you know who the Knowing Mistress chose as her Champion.

pixlerelish

My toxic trait is that no matter what I need three hours to myself at the end of the day to do absolutely nothing.

writing-prompt-s

You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches.

dycefic

I think I’d have minded less if I’d committed a truly heinous crime. Something that warranted death. Or even if I was the kind of person who would enjoy flinging a last defiance at my execution.

It was all just a show, anyway. They did it every year. They brought out a selection of criminals, and the Sorcerer who ruled us showed his power by bringing about their deaths by magic. Just to show, every year, what happened to anyone who crossed him.

There was a time, probably, when the people he executed really were rebels or assassins. In latter days he had to take what the dungeons offered. I was dragged up in chains between a pickpocket, sobbing in terror, and a man who’d killed another man in a brawl. There were few criminals of any note, by then. So instead of choosing the wickedest criminals, they chose based on appearance. The man who’d been in the brawl had a face like a clenched fist, and looked like a ruffian. The pickpocket, aging and with hands beginning to tremble, was a different kind of example. As was I.

“There aren’t many pretty ones, this year,” the man who chose me had said, examining me. “But this one will do. Not young, but not old, a woman, well-favoured enough for the gallows… what was her crime?”

The warder shrugged. “She tried to kill one of the sheriffs.”

The man looked down at me and I shrugged. “I hit him with a washing stick, because he tried to extort money from me, and he was a baby about it.” I refused to treat this as anything but pathetic, even after my sentencing. “I didn’t even break any bones.”

“Treason, then,” the man said, nodding. “Attacking the servants of the law. That will look well on the list. Send her.”

I had been debating ever since what to choose. Something quick? Something painless? I considered demanding that I suffer the attack I supposedly made on the sheriff, but then I realized the Sorcerer would only give me what the man had said I was going to do, and that was not a pleasant way to die. I had all but decided on something swift and relatively painless. Beheading with the sharpest of blades sounded good. It would be quick.

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