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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
YOU ARE THE REASON
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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Show & Tell
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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AnasAbdin

Kiana Khansmith
$LAYYYTER

ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation
occasionally subtle
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romaā

Janaina Medeiros
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@crispybutinterested
Tex and Carolina in literally any capacity pls
I gotchu
It's already May 15th here so long live the Ice Queen
Another year of her reign has passed everyone go celebrate
And another one
And another one!
And another one
AND ANOTHER ONE
Jen Brown is the coolest actor for two redhead fighters.
rvbāļørwby
FNDM went from foolishly thinking Tai slept with his entire team to wisely understanding that Summer slept with her entire team.Ā
incredible
Pyrrha Nikos, the Tarnished Spartan
Imagine losing a game you rigged
Today at work I got to say "Tucker did it" about a coworker
It felt like the planets had alined. I had said it out of honesty, but realized a second later how odd and familiar it sounded in my mouth. And how I said it with an slight accent. Then it hit me.
Caboose would be proud of me <3
Me when the obviously doomed character doesn't get a happy ending
lesbian heated rivalry wouldnāt be in hockey because there are already many out queer women in hockey due to the fact that hockey is viewed as a menās sport. the whole reason hockey is captivating for mlm is because it is a toxically masculine sport and the idea of having out queer men in that sport is surprising (requiring them to stay closeted/have situationships/etc), whereas it is not nearly as surprising for queer women. therefore, lesbian heated rivalry would actually occur in a setting like ballet, gymnastics, or some other stereotypically feminine sport (that has toxic feminine standards) where queer women are not as visible. in this essay i will
this happened to me, by the way.
i was raised in the ballet; specifically the boston ballet. dancers are usually "jumpers" or "turners", i was solidly a jumper and a "good corps dancer". while i had some skill, i am "curvy", which genuinely is frowned upon in ballet. but i was short and technically-accurate enough to just keep-being-casted. I think I've been pretty much every character in the Nutcracker, minus the leads. I did sometimes land titled roles when dancing with smaller companies - including Sleeping Beauty, where i was the Evil Queen.
i got it over one of their permanent soloists. she was nice to me, even though she was a better dancer than i was (and a much better turner). i had shown up on audition day and taken the role from her. the choreographer had told her to her face: you have the dance skills, but she has the stage presence. that kind of conversation just happens in ballet. she cried about it later, i caught her coming out of the bathroom. i had apologized on his behalf. i said it's not fair. i asked her if she wanted to get dinner, my treat.
she was often knitting or listening to music, so we didn't talk a lot, but she had been nice. she just seemed introverted, and i am unfortunately an extrovert. i often tried to include her, but she would rarely participate. we were in one of those circles, discussing exes. i am always very careful in these conversations; and never out myself. i am often, after all, in a room of somewhat-naked women. i do not not want any of them to think i'm like that. i do not want the fuss. (it's happened to me before. it was ugly.)
we were putting on our pointe shoes, and I was laughing. "no i swear. we got into an argument about it. my ex was like - what do you mean you actually dance on your actual toes. i guess my ex thought it was like, a euphemism? mind you, i wasn't even the first dancer they dated." i flexed my foot, shimmied the shank a little lower, tested the box placement. it only hurts for the first year and a half, kind of. also every time you have to jump en pointe. after that, the worst pain is just the 100 dollars every time you need a new pair (which is often).
around us, the green room was a flurry of tutus and hair spray and people in very-thick slippers. most dancers are very friendly, actually. it takes a very specific kind of person to physically destroy yourself for hours on end; and then to do that in front of a live audience, half-naked. in sequins. with your leg over your head.
most of us have some kind of mental illness. i should tell you that. many of us have adhd. the thing about being a girlchild and being restless is that they have a solution for that: just slam you into endless dance classes. the constant body-awareness is incredibly soothing for me; but it's a lot for other people. we aren't kidding when we tell you we need to be aware of literally every tendon, angle, and muscle of our bodies. i have spent a lifetime focusing on lifting the sole of my foot. my pinky finger is a villain, and i am always trying to tame her back into shape.
her brown hair was perfectly back, her eyes perfectly rimmed, lipstick perfectly applied. she was knitting. the other girls chatting about how boys don't get it and how kristen's boytoy hadn't come to a single show and she was breaking up with him because of it. the conversation turned, we were just ragging on our terrible exes. somebody's ex once totaled her car. someone else's tried to use honest-to-god monopoly money at a starbucks.
and i fucked up, because we were laughing, and i was distracted by getting ready. and i said "yeah, she -" and then i snapped my mouth shut. thank god someone else was already talking. i felt myself blush. my body went cold. i thought to myself - there was crosstalk. everyone was speaking at once. maybe nobody heard. nobody even seemed to look at me twice. everyone was talking about their stupid exes. i smiled and nodded and gave it a few minutes. i was frozen, laughing mechanically. and then i made some excuse and half-ran into the hall, my stupid toeshoes clacking.
i felt like i was dying. fuck. fuck. i slammed my toes into rosin and pretended to warm up in some cramped corner between costumes. i pressed my forehead flush with the cold cinderblocks of the hallway, trying to force my breathing into check. i had to be onstage in a few hours. they're going to hate me now, and put me into some fucking side-room bullshit to get changed. they'll think i was being predatory that whole time. it's all ruined. fuck.
a little cold hand landed on my bare back. she was standing there, tilting her head at me. she has the "ideal dancer body" - tall, thin, long-legged. over that dinner, she'd said balanchine was a pedophile and it's weird they expect us to look like this. and i'd said ballet is a bastion of white supremacy. she'd said: you are the better dancer, by the way. they only like my shape.
she hugged her elbows, little goosebumps on her blued skin. "hey." she wouldn't make eye contact with me.
i felt like crying, which was stupid - despite having shellacked myself into waterproof makeup, i didn't want to risk tearstains.
her mouth twisted. "it's almost time for you to get into costume." her words sat between us awkwardly. we both knew i would be alerted by the costume crew when they were ready for me. she frowned, then, her jaw working like she was trying to say something. instead, she just shook her head a little.
"okay," i said. my voice was weird and scratchy. "thanks."
"did you - i heard you." she put one hand above mine on the wall, one long leg out in a common shape for dancers: a cross of fourth position and attitude; digging her foot down into her shoe, wiggling. she cleared her throat. "i heard you say she."
i dropped my hand. i pretended to stretch. "okay." i said. my brain was blank with fear. fuck. it's ruined. "yeah."
"you've dated... women?" she flexed her feet. pointed. started doing gentle hip swings, her body no more than an arm length from mine.
i looked anywhere else. the other people in the hallway, running around before the show. the racks of clothes. the wires. behind us, the greenroom was muffled and raucous with dancers laughing. i was going to be banned from that space now.
i crossed my arms over my chest. the duct tape creaked. (in a few months, i would genuinely crack a few ribs binding like that. but for then i just took the half-air). "yeah," i said. i puffed it out. "i'm. yeah."
"gay?" she was looking at her feet as she made tiny rond de jambs, working her ankles.
"gay," i creaked.
she paused then, and stepped closer to me. i was suddenly aware she had a solid six inches on me, all of which she carried with perfect grace and accuracy. "you go to contemporary on thursdays, right?"
a ballerina is supposed to enjoy ballet more than anything. i was actually secretly falling completely in love with contemporary dance, because it forgave me for having any mass on my body. "yeah?" i looked up into her dark eyes, trying to figure out where this was going.
she handed me her phone. "text me next time. we'll carpool."
stupid and stunned, i punched my number in, first name raquel last name ballet.
she took the phone back, looked at the screen, and smiled a little. she thumbed a few keys and held it back up: first name raquel, last name ballet: and then a rainbow emoji, girls kissing, and little pink hearts. "gotcha. see you then."
and then she turned and walked away in that particular "walking in pointe shoes" way dancers have, a little rolling lope. she made it look graceful, purposeful. i had no idea how to respond. i just stared at the after her, wordless, boggled.
my phone was in my dance bag, i didn't see the notification until many hours later. chugging water and sweating out of every pore. from an unknown number: the next role is mine, by the way. and then i'll take YOU out for dinner.
I love animation history and one of the things that always baffled me was how did animators draw the cars in 101 Dalmatians before the advent of computer graphics?
Any rigid solid object is extremely challenging for 2D artists to animate because if one stray line isnāt kept perfectly in check, the object will seem to wobble and shift unnaturally.
Even as early as the mid 80ās Disney was using a technique where they would animate a 3D object and then apply a 2D filter to it. This practice could be applied to any solid object a character interacts with: from lanterns a character is holding, to a book (like in Atlantis), or in the most extreme cases Cybernetic parts (like in Treasure Planet).
But 101 Dalmatians was made WAY before the advent of this technology. So how did they do the Cruella car chase sequence at the end of the film?
The answer is so simple I donāt know why it didnāt occur to me sooner:
They just BUILT the models and painted them white with black outlines š¤£
That was the trick. Theyāre not actually 2D animated, theyāre stop motion. They were physical models painted white and filmed on a white background. The black outlines become the lineart lines and they just xeroxed the frame onto an animation cel and painted it like any other 2D animated frame.
Thatās how they did it! Isnāt that amazing? Itās such a simple low tech solution but it looks so cool in the final product.
I do think itās important to recognize that even beloved pets are mortal and will age and die & that many illnesses associated with aging can constitute ānatural causesā and I do think thereās a bit of weirdness in American culture that encourages people to deny that until the last possible moment in a way thatās unhealthy lol
Just as I think itās important to try and be responsible about vet bills etc & have a certain amount of money set aside for that if you can I do that a stipulation of pet ownership should be ācan I watch this animal decline in a way that is timely for its species without being so upset by it that I bankrupt myself in order to prolong the inevitableā idk man
When I rushed my cat to the ER vet on her last day, I could see VISIBLE relief from the vet when I agreed to put her down instead of spending thousands to give ME another few weeks with her.
I've sadly never had the kinda Money for vets, but every pet I've ever owned has lived a full long life for their species, and because of the vet thing I've also learned how to provide a cat a comfortable passing, the inevitable comes for us all, and some the kindest thing you can do for you babies is help is pass peacefully
I work at a vet hospital and I've seen this so many times
Like yes on one had if your animal comes in sick and it turns out to be treatable and a one time thing (or like diabetes can be treated through their life and quality of life wont go down) then yeah keep the animal alive.
But on the flip side I've seen a dog that flatlined THREE TIMES and we brought it back all three times (its rare to bring an animal back even once) and the owner was insistent he take the dog back home that day. Like SIR your dog won't live off oxygen for 30 seconds. Eventually we got him to see reason, but it was exasperating in the process.
Please for your animal and those around you, even yourself, don't drag their pain out
yeah i like to give my blessing to the most pathetic looking weak little knight at the tournament. she canāt even look me in the eye when i give her my flower and she stutters out that sheāll do her best or something of the like. i think its funny when she has to cry and beg my forgiveness and i get to say āsuch a shame, i suppose my hand in marriage will have to go to someone elseā¦ā and then i get to hear her whimper like a dog. ive done this like 6 times alrea-
did she just win.
I shall prepare a stew for the wedding! Extra salt!
wait wait wait stew goblin wait
get ready for the wedding
hi guys! discord is doing a survey on how people would like ai to be integrated into discord. take it and say fuck no to every question. when you get to "in general, how do you feel about discord inegrating ai features?", respond that you would actively get everyone you know off of discord and wouldn't pay for nitro or other shop items if they added ai features.
watch out for the trap! there's ONE QUESTION where the last option *isn't* the max 'no AI' option, read each part carefully to be sure
ā "If brought together, these four Relics will summon my brother and I back to your world, and humanity will be judged."