i am. so sorry if i have ever used the phrase “i have an au where—” and led you to believe that there is an actual fic out there for you to read rather than, at best, a post where i explain the concept, and at worst it is simply something that lives in my brain
if it helps i also wish there was a fic
I can instantly tell if you’re annoying by your art style, btw. If you have a very certain style you’re going right to the blocklist because every time I see someone with that style I assume they’re annoying and then check their page to confirm my suspicions and they’re always confirmed because I am never wrong about it.
(note: mutuals this is not about any of you. I wouldn’t follow someone with that kind of art style in the first place.)
insane how many people just have these incredible artists in their families who get no recognition outside of crocheting circles because this art form is devalued for its association with women
in my country, the word for crocheting, is used metaphorically, to compliment a surgeon’s work.
every AFAB person my mother’s age and older, had practiced this craft at one point on another.
My mom has made literal paintings, that decorate our house for years (I’ll come back with pictures when I visit next) you can only see that they are crocheting when you go very close.
as promised here’s my mom’s crocheting “paintings”
There is another one but it had been stored many years ago, (i remember it from my childhood) and sadly it is probably damaged by mold, it depicted wild horsed running in nature
a new special friend, by the name of Pretty Face
she lives in The Other Happy Place
strange little thing she, friend for life, or not.
Love when characters are just named exactly accurately
We take bugs bunny's "what's up doc?" for granted by now but walking up behind the guy who's aiming a gun at your front door and asking "hey what's going on bro what's all this" through a mouthful of Cheetos you're still loudly eating is still a funny as hell concept
If you ever tagged me to do one of those tag game thingies and I never did it:
1) Thank you, seriously. Those are fun and being included shows that my followers care enough to want to learn more about me.
2) Very sorry about that, it’s extremely likely that I said to myself “Cool! But I’m busy at the moment, I’ll have to do this later today or tomorrow” before proceeding to just straight-up forget, now it’s too far back in my notifications and/or your blog to find again.
I was doing today’s wordle and I had gotten like. 2 letters in green and 2 more in yellow and I was looking at the remaining letters to see what it could be and I was like “could it be…no way” and I tried it and it WAS. And I said “YO” so loud I woke up the dog. Whoops. Not telling you what it was because I’m not helping anyone cheat like that, but if you know me and you know what my brain is currently rotted by, then you’ll know what it is
Alex we need to have a talk
thanks @bmoharrisbankofficial but unfortunately i can’t focus on the very important message here because i’m too busy being confused by the fact that apparently if you send an ask with only one letter tumblr will bold that letter in the “asked you” notification text?? why the fuck would that be the case
fascinating
what the fuck is the backend of this site like
people when mental illness actually makes you unpalatable and disappointing instead of just making you quirky online
Rare photos from trans history: Olympic runner and Zdeněk Koubek styles Cinda Glenn’s hair, 1936. Koubek was one of the first trans men to gain international fame after he transitioned in 1935.
this is inspiring weirdly complex emotions in me. like, it’s the fucking 1930s. I can hear the mid-atlantic newsreel voice. the fact that it plays coy with why he knows so much about women’s hairstyles, but like, as a funny surprise, not as shock and horror. the fact that it never deadnames him or uses incorrect pronouns. the fact that he looks like Mickey Rooney. idk it’s just making me feel feelings.
this post doesn’t even have 50k notes and these two characters are now stars of the silver screen. Cool.
Venue owner honest god just fucking told me I had to go find the "lanky, scruffy guy with brown hair in a plaid button-up and thick glasses" at open mic comedy night.
Imagine you went to a drag show and someone earnestly asked you to go backstage and get the person wearing a wig and glitter eyeshadow for them. That's what I'm working with here.
wheres the gif of the guy on fire but then he eats a watermelon and hes fine
this is what summertime is like
When the author describes a character’s appearance way too late and you have to quickly redesign the image you already have for them in your head:
This is why if you want people to know your character has long raven-black hair with red streaks and eyes like limpid tears, you need to make sure you say so in your first paragraph. Christ. Imagine someone thinking your character’s a prep.
Holy shit I’m dying.
That. That literally explains the opening paragraph of My Immortal I was making a joke but this person came out here with receipts holy hell
Alguém aí já tinha reparado nessa mãozinha boba da Argentina?
... é Yuri ou Yaoi?
hey! don't do this! if it tears or otherwise leaks in any way you're going to get cheese and meat grease in your toaster and that's a really really great way to start fires. toasters are made for bread. they are not made for anything else and especially not something that is going to potentially drip grease as it heats up
i realized that just scrolling by this addition is easy to miss or skim over but tl;dr:
I bet octopuses think bones are horrific. I bet all their cosmic horror stories involve rigid-limbs and hinged joints.
To an octopus, a human is like a thinking being with blood-stained coral growing inside it.
I need to sit down and breathe into a bag for a while.
Its parts were obscenely limited in their movement. Each hinge could open or close only a small amount before reaching its limit, yet by working in concert they demonstrated unexpected dexterity, moving and manipulating the objects before it with cunning equal to my own. It was more torso than limb, as though a seal had been stretched and warped, given long grasping tentacles filled with bones like bars of coral. It’s head was most horrid of all, flat and ovoid, jutting out too small from the trunk as though it belonged to a beast half its size.
The thing rose upon its lowermost appendages, two long trunks that ended in flat, protruding flippers that branched into stubby, grasping mockeries of a sucker. It’s triple-hinged uppermost limbs were similar, but the ends branched into five smaller tentacles, each with three hinges of their own.
I froze, as the thing’s gaze fell upon me and it opened its hideous fish-jaw, filled with thick, many-shaped teeth like white shards of stone, and spoke in a shrill, discordant babble. I felt its horrid dry grip on my flesh, as those hinged appendages closed on me like the legs of a crab.
I felt the heat of its body, tasted its noxious, oily flesh through my touch, and prepared for the end, and all went black as a swoon overtook me.
I awoke, some time later, the cold and comforting water, banished back to the comfort of the sea and the dark. I should be grateful I am alive. I should cast aside the experience like a half-remembered dream.
I shall never again go swimming in search of lights above. The last thing I recall before the darkness took me was my right eye popping free of the thing’s grasp enough to see into the distance for one brief moment.
I saw thousands of lights.
ok so it turns out “horror but it’s about something mundane from the perspective of a non-human animal” fucks severely
This is so fucking cool
