so give me coffee and tv, peacefully

i'm just a low-key stan, man

[emmaharwoods]

i’m genuinely so upset man what the fuck

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

current state of the internet is a FUCKING EMBARASSMENT. was chatting with my grandma bout the history of crochet and knitting (and the comparative ages of those respective technologies) and i was like "oh YEAH and also that ancient greek fiber art we partly figured out from chemically testing the scoured bleached pigments of stolen statuary (tumblr knows what im talking about)—gimme 30 seconds to look up the name."

5 minutes and 3 search-engines later i am crying tears of blood screaming spitting blubbering in despair as my grandma attempts to digitally pat me consolingly on the back. the library of alexandria didn't burn it was "restructured" to "increase shareholder profits"

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

and i STILL CANNOT FIND THE TERM.

i am scouring the internet like the victorians scoured and destroyed all trace of joy and color from stolen relics for the LOST NAME OF THE ANCIENT PROCESS of textile-creation akin to knitting/crocheting/nålebinding that at least one academic/crafter used to recreate the leggings on this Glorious Motherfucker:

the google execs erased it. they bleached my bestie AGAIN from history...

[flibbertigiblet]

It's called sprang, and you're probably thinking specifically of Dagmar Drinkler's work!

[zegalba]

[fragranticareviewers]

[fragranticareviewers]

[unholyblissafterdark]

[expiredcheese]

[creaturey]

ok this tag really got me

[bee-leaving]

...girl

[sapphosdickandballs]

immortalizing these tags

[floambones]

every year after you turn 17 you get further away from being the age of the dancing queen and that’s my least favorite thing about growing up

[saint--claire]

exCUSE ME.  DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THE FACE OF A WOMAN WHO’S CONCERNED ABOUT BEING TOO OLD TO BE THE DANCING QUEEN??

Fuck your age, put on your high heeled boots and a pair of overalls and do Meryl Streep proud.

You are the dancing queen.

[kyraneko]

Hot take: Seventeen is the age at which you get crowned the Dancing Queen.

Being older than that isn’t years away from being the Dancing Queen, it’s how many years your reign has lasted.

[vialhazard]

[kyokobi]

REBLOGGING FOR THAT LAST PIECE OF INSIGHT. BITCH YOU

ARE

THE DANCING QUEEN

[pjharvey]

i hate when u post something with a target audience of 1 person and they don't interact ... like ok i thought what we had was real but thats fine 😔💔

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

rice is the perfect food and westerners should eat more of it i'm so serious

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

you can season it, you can drizzle it with sauce, you can cook it in broth or coconut milk, you can add spices sugar butter sesame oil rice vinegar, you can mix it w/ garlic & scallions & veggies, you can fry it and scramble an egg in it, it goes with meat & seafood & protein, it reheats great with a bit of water, it's cheap, insane shelf-life, ideal for bulk buy discounts, many types & shapes & textures, there are thousands of recipes ranging from china to india to japan to the middle east to latin america to europe. AND a rice cocker cooks it for you. the many splendors that await you...

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

you think i made an error most grievous, BUT i noticed that typo before hitting post; in my infinite wisdom i chose to let nature take its course

[decepticonsensual]

My brother recently bought a house in the rural outskirts of his city, and apparently it's a real fixer-upper, but that's always been the kind of thing he loves doing. So he has a truck now (to haul stuff for all the repairs he's doing on the house). He's already fond of flannel. He bakes his own bread.

And now a cat has turned up, so he has a cat.

With Christmas rapidly approaching, it's dawning on me that my own brother is, in fact, Hallmark Christmas Movie Small Town Man.

If he shows up to Christmas dinner with a bewildered hedge fund manager who got stranded in his town and fell in love with him over an ice sculpture carving competition or some shit, I'm gonna have to stage an intervention.

[cipheramnesia]

god forbid men do anything

[trekscribbles]

This week, I read a fic that was around 20 years old, which had originally been posted on the author's personal website and which she added to AO3 a few years ago. She listed her email address with the fic, so after I finished reading, I sent her an email saying how much I enjoyed the story, how much I appreciated the work and effort she obviously put into it, and thanked her for uploading it to AO3. She responded the next day and thanked me for my message, then said she had a few more stories in the same series that she hadn't gotten around to uploading. I checked this morning--she added a 35,000 word novella and thanked me in the summary.

👏 comment 👏 on 👏 old 👏 fics 👏

[doggosource]

[doggosource]

Mood

[equinity-deactivated20250916]

what do the 4 people who always like my posts want for christmas

[twerklina]

I’ve been waiting since March to post this…

[tanadrin]

See, our first mistake was trying to have a civilization in northern Europe between October and February. The darkest three months of the year should be for staying home under the blankets, midwinter festivals, and getting blind drunk when the sun goes down at 4 pm like the bog gods intended.

[tanadrin]

boss calling me asking why I left work early, and I’m sitting in the peat bog with the slime up to my neck. no, I’m not coming in tomorrow, I say. the ghosts of my Paleolithic ancestors are whispering to me. fine, I say. yeah, I’ll get a doctor’s note. a skeletal hand erupts from the depths proffering a swamp-blackened chunk of birch bark. someone has scratched a perfectly filled out Arbeitsunfähigkeitsbescheinigung in an unknown pre-Indo-European language. it’s for a whole week off, which is nice. i pour a little of my whiskey out into the bog, as a token of appreciation.

[tanadrin]

i speak to the bog in halting proto-germanic bc it’s as close as i can get, but that’s like six thousand years too late for most of the bog gods, who haven’t been paying attention to mortal affairs since the Neolithic. the corpse of a dead Wendish prince translates for me. he’s spent a lot of time with other bog ghosts, and picked up a pretty stunning variety of languages. but sometimes he has to ask the others for help for tricky concepts like farming or the internet that the bog gods don’t have words for. O Gods of the Bog, i ask, what wisdom do you have for escaping the ennui of modern life?

there are distant ululations and strange misshapen figures stir in the mist. sacrifice your king to the bog, the reply comes. strangle him and throw his head into the mire, with offerings of iron and gold. i sigh. It’s no use trying to explain we don’t have a king anymore. That’s their answer to everything.

[allsonargent]

What? I’m singing a duet with my inner child.