things i've posted

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  • Didn’t think Rei could look any better but boiii was I wrong… His smile is the best one out of the others though. 
  • I hate that Gus turned into handsome squidward with the masculine filterrr lmfaoo. But he looks fab as a female 
  • Mavis my love looks even cuter with the female filter 
  • FemKeith meanwhile looks like one of those moms on dance moms 

managed to squeeze this print in right before ECCC! my boys <3

drinks from the simpsons rated

bart’s hot cocoa marshmallow

is it still technically a drink? who cares! grampa wanted a slice and i do too 10/10

skittlebrau

i’m still waiting for some artisanal craft beer company to crowdfund the actualisation of skittlebrau 9/10

malk

brittle bones are a small price to pay for all that vitamin r 7/10

the all-syrup super squishee

this drink comes with consequences. are you prepared for what that might mean? 5/10


shelbyville turnip juice

turnip juice is a real thing apparently? who looked at a turnip and wanted to drink it? 3/10

homer’s morning glass of syrup

my teeth are crying 0/10

marge’s homemade pepsi

an undefinable and unknowable entity ?/10

lays liquid potato chips

i’ve got questions and they’re all about how i can forget i ever had to think about this 0/10

worcestershire flavoured soft drink

carbonated worcestershire is truly a cursed concept 0/10

a single plum, floating in perfume, served in a man’s hat

the bartender requires you to sign a waiver before he serves you. this drink takes you to a strange new place where the man whose hat you are drinking from tells you the meaning of life in a way you are never able to articulate after you regain consciousness number eight/10

slavic languages gothic

You see a sentence written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.

You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.

There is a sentence in Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.

You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.

P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.

The Croatian sentence does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.

That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence.
Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.

Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.

You see a word in a dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in your sleep. You wake up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.

This word means the same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language. The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.

H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.

One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.

You write my name is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right letters.

N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?

There are nine different prefixes you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape of one of its middle consonants. You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth. You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.

You now read a text in Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes, the meaning searing your mind.

There’s a shot of vodka in front of you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.

reasons why shiro is gone:

  • it’s naptime. he’s on the cot in the back.
  • the black lion put him in timeout
  • he got dropped off at daycare
  • he’s in a really high stakes game of hide & seek but he’s the only one who knows they’re playing
  • he got stuck putting his shirt on and he’s so embarrassed that he’s hiding
  • it’s just a trick of object permanence. he’s got his eyes covered. he can’t see the others? HE’S FUCKIN GONE
  • allura told him he was grounded for not eating his veggie goo so he decided to run away. he’s only like the space-equivalent of a block from the castle though.

anonymous asked:

You always seem to have all the answers. What do we do to stop Trump? I feel helpless. I know of the elections in November for Senate, Congress, etc. what can we do in the meantime?

I took this question really seriously, so I asked my parents to help me answer this. Here is what my dad said: 

Here is what my mom said: 

Here is what I say: 

First of all, I am sorry for referring to you as “kid” to my folks. It was just a shorthand I used for them to understand in a simple way that I think you are someone younger than they are. They are professors/teachers, and are often tasked with communicating effectively with young people. (also, sorry if my dad misgendered you? I guess kid = boy in his head)

Next: Yes. To what my parents said. When I feel helpless I often turn to them because they are so blisteringly smart and compassionate, and if I seem strong and like I have all the answers, it’s because I come from an incredibly supportive family. I wanted to share that with you. 

  1. Furthermore, staying informed in the time of “alternative facts” is an act of resistance. Knowing is half the battle. There’s an app called Countable that will keep you informed of the latest developments in your local government and issues you care about. 
  2. Because our representatives are firmly planted in the last century, online activism doesn’t cut through the noise to them—but phone calls do. Here is a website called 5calls.org that helps you make those calls with a script, and is especially effective if you (like me) have social anxiety. 
  3. Here is a great “Stop Trump” reading list that @batlordart compiled. 
  4. Don’t focus on a mountainous goal like “stopping Trump” and instead expend your energy on things that will make you happier and healthier.
  5. Thriving is our first act of resistance.
  6. Don’t despair. I could vibrate with the conviction of how fiercely I believe it: we will get through this.

another thing I love about this series is how well it shows depression. yes, they’re together and happy and loved, but that doesn’t erase all the bad things that have happened to them

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“I hope one day you will find someone who makes flowers grow in even the saddest parts of you.”