your local cryptid @cryingminotaur - Tumblr Blog

drawnsnake

I cried watching Project Hail Mary btw

menloathe

when the song tackles you to the ground and starts beating the ever loving shit out of you

what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me

You guys ever see a DNI that makes you break out into laughter and almost cry

what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me

If graphic design is your passion then !!! GET OUT !!! 🚫🚫👎‼️🥶🥶🚫

indigobuntings

I can't believe home depot literally produced a wildly successful science fiction musical and we all just pretend it didn't happen. on one hand yes it had a boring white guy main character but like.... home depot just... Made it? And it had shit ton of box office sales? and no one even talks about this. this is like avatar (2009) all over again

indigobuntings

OK so. After a lot of frantic googling I realized this was all a dream. home depot did not in fact produce a wildly successful science fiction musical. I was on allergy meds and took a nap and my brain simply prophesized this. slightly disappointed because I wanted to watch it.

krchov

(by @galwednesday)

chirasul

there's like 10,0000,0 accounts with names like "Best Heritage Posts" and "Tumblr Hall Of Fame Posts" and "So Funny Hellsite Posts" but where's the shitty posts accounts. where's the hall of fail accounts. i want to see the worst of the worst

shitidiotloserheritageposts

heritage post

chirasul

come on man

ace-disgrace-on-the-case

For those who needed to hear it today

jetix

Breath of Spring by Anastasia Trusova, 2022

thecryptkeeper

happy pride month

somecunttookmyurl

i can tell i’m sleep deprived bc i just made myself cry about tutankhamun and i have, like, negative interest in the kid

somecunttookmyurl

have now made the rest of the discord cry about this little boy who had multi-coloured ducks sewn onto a tunic that he loved so much he wore it to a Very Important Event because he was EIGHT and have you SEEN my DUCKS

somecunttookmyurl

sorry no i’m not done i’m gonna make you all cry some more i’m bringing you down with me

there was once a little boy.

he is born disabled. his body hurts, and he can’t walk properly the way the other children do. he doesn’t understand why. he’s a little boy. but he plays with wooden boats and pulls toys on a string.

somebody makes him a tunic. they sew ducks onto it in red and green and yellow and blue. the bright colours of a child.

the little boy is eight years old, and he’s going to be king now. there’s a big ceremony about it. he doesn’t really fully understand what’s going on, because he’s eight, but he wears the tunic with the brightly coloured ducks for the occasion because he loves it. look at his ducks! aren’t they great?

he is a child. the adults around him manipulate and coax him to gain more power for themselves. he still plays with toys.

as a teenager, not yet an adult, he fathers children. they do not survive. he’s not even old enough to have full agency in his job and is still being manipulated, but he had babies and they died.

he does not make it to his twenties. at eighteen or nineteen years old he dies, and is buried. his babies, so tiny, are buried with him.

and so is his tunic with the little ducks that he loved so much he kept it long after it no longer fit.

there was once a little boy.

somecunttookmyurl

yeah i think that like. especially with historical figures in your mind people who were kings and queens or important nobles were adults. even if you know how old they were it doesn’t really click. it doesn’t seem real

but then you get something like a little tunic with brightly coloured ducks on it and it hits you like a fucking truck that this really was a little kid and no matter how far removed you are a little kid is still a little kid. their brains didn’t develop any quicker back then. he was just as developed/mature mentally as any 8 year old now. he had cartoonish animals on his clothes and he played with toy boats and probably terrorised the local cat population.

tutankhamun was a child and he didn’t make it to adulthood because he was unfortunate enough to be a very important child

his dad died when he was 8. he saw his own babies die when he was still just a boy himself.

but he had brightly coloured little ducks on his favourite shirt, and he kept it.

somecunttookmyurl

and he did not just keep the duckie shirt either

tutankhamun had a little pair of sandals with ducks on them. he had earrings decorated with ducks. he kept those, and other items of childhood clothing. some toys. keepsakes. things he loved, and treasured. he kept them all in a little wooden chest. the chest… was carved with ducks.

and that little duck chest, filled with things he kept from his childhood, was buried with him. maybe he was keeping them for the little babies who did not make it. maybe they just reminded him of good days and fun times.

but he was a little boy who thought ducks were just the best

somecunttookmyurl

WITH PLEASURE

(greyscale makes it hard but the duck head is on the right above the toe strap. always takes me a while to find it too)

beggars-opera

libriamore

Ok but this is how to teach history. This is how you get people to pay attention, to care. Find something small and make it personal, then zoom out to the wider context. History is best taught as a story, with people who lived their lives in ways that came together to create something remarkable that we still talk about today, but who were still just human at the end of the day. They kissed, argued, cried, and dreamed just like we do. And sometimes they really liked ducks.

fiberartsam

My embroidery is wonky at best but I thought maybe he would have liked to know other people liked the ducks he loved so much, so I copied the duck from the shirt onto my jeans. They’re with me now. They live on.

somecunttookmyurl

these are so cute! 🦆

lliveonthesunn

every other week, my mom would make a giant pot of vegetable soup. she'd pack half of it in a tupperware and take it to her best friend's house. they both had three kids whose ages aligned. they'd lock us out of the house and go through each room, finding every piece of dirty laundry and then spend the afternoon keeping the washer and dryer running, folding and putting away each load while gossiping.

every alternate week, her best friend would come to our house with a tupperware full of chicken spaghetti. they'd stick us in front of a tv with a stack of disney vhs tapes and go through each room, finding every dirty dish, and then spend the afternoon at the kitchen sink, washing each dish by hand while gossiping.

it wasn't always soup and spaghetti and laundry and dishes. but it was almost always a meal and a chore. here is a night you don't have to cook dinner. here is a chore you can cross off your list. and here is a day you don't have to spend alone. because really food and friendship and a feeling of accomplishment are what we all need most.