Saw a post and decided to fix it ^^
i always reblog pro wasp propaganda to spite my phobia
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
taylor price
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🪼
noise dept.
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
d e v o n
Show & Tell
trying on a metaphor
Cosimo Galluzzi
hello vonnie

★

⁂
cherry valley forever

blake kathryn
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
wallacepolsom
almost home
will byers stan first human second

shark vs the universe
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@flintandpyrite
Saw a post and decided to fix it ^^
i always reblog pro wasp propaganda to spite my phobia
For all its faults Tumblr has truly ruined all other social media for me because my friends all have Instagram and are all trying to get me on Instagram more but every time I open Instagram there are like fifteen things screaming for my attention and when I get over myself long enough to start scrolling it's like. Where is my chronological dash. Where is the following-only option. Who are these people. Why are there so many videos. Everyone is screaming at me. And then before I know it I'm thirty minutes into scrolling and I haven't seen a single thing that I actually care about. At least on Tumblr when I see stuff I don't care about I know someone I follow has found a new interest.
Porch knitting with Boots
Did you work during any of the Covid lockdowns?
yes outside the home
yes but from home
yes to both of the above
no but I wasn't/couldn't/didn't work anyway
no Covid stopped my job at some point
nuance/other/results
reblog if the first musical you listened to was not Hamilton
Knit An Nydia Hat, For Babies, Kids & Adults, Designed By Vanessa Smith: 👉 https://knithacker.com/2025/06/knit-an-nydia-hat-for-babies-kids-adults-designed-by-vanessa-smith/ 💜
“Oh, Valancy, I didn’t mean to be bad—I didn’t, indeed. But I loved him so—I love him yet—I’ll always love him. And I—didn’t know—some things. I didn’t—understand.”
(The Blue Castle, Chapter 23)
“You ought to have been more careful if you didn’t mean to get him to make you his wife!”
“O mother, my mother!” cried the agonized girl, turning passionately upon her parent as if her poor heart would break. “How could I be expected to know? I was a child when I left this house four months ago. Why didn’t you tell me there was danger in men-folk? Why didn’t you warn me? Ladies know what to fend hands against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks; but I never had the chance o’ learning in that way, and you did not help me!”
(Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Chapter 12)
literally what would we do without gif makers thank you gif makers THANK YOU GIFMAKERS i love nothing more than to watch a tiny moment of a scene loop over and over and over the world is so beautiful
i recognize that my body would probably benefit from such as a yoga or pilates class but. well. not to be an edgelord but i need like yoga for assholes or something. i am from massachusetts and the vibe at these things puts me directly into fight or flight mode. why are you acting like this let me out let mE OUT
Official Post of Massachusetts
Honestly it boils down to reparenting yourself & rewiring your own neuronal pathways & telling yourself a firm “stop” when you notice your mind slipping down negative loopholes & being present in the moment & enjoying being mid task rather than waiting for it to end & not thinking of inertia as your baseline and natural way of living
So tempting to keep embarking on the same self destructive cycle over & over & over again . But at some point you have to put ur foot down w ur own behaviors & be the thing that truly saves u
Commentary on Chapter 22 of The Blue Castle
“The next thing the Stirlings heard was that Valancy had been seen with Barney Snaith in a movie theatre in Port Lawrence and after it at supper in a Chinese restaurant there.”
I wonder if the problem is just her being with Snaith and her “scandalous” attire or do Stirlings have a problem with cinema and Chinese cuisine too?
“I’m going to the Port. Will you go there with me?”
His eyes were teasing and there was a bit of defiance in his voice.”
Barney absolutely heard the “I wouldn’t mind him kissing me” comment.
“They tore into and through Deerwood. Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles, taking a little air on the verandah, saw them whirl by in a cloud of dust and sought comfort in each other’s eyes.”
Amelia and Christine, under a tree, kissing 🎶🎶
“Valancy, who in some dim pre-existence had been afraid of a car, was hatless and her hair was blowing wildly round her face.”
Love that for her.
“A slave to moth-eaten traditions.”
I love this sentence.
“They went to the movie—Valancy had never been to a movie. And then, finding a nice hunger upon them, they went and had fried chicken—unbelievably delicious—in the Chinese restaurant. After which they rattled home again, leaving a devastating trail of scandal behind them.”
Best date.
“Mrs. Frederick gave up going to church altogether. She could not endure her friends’ pitying glances and questions. But Cousin Stickles went every Sunday. She said they had been given a cross to bear.”
Mrs. Frederick clearly only went to church for social reasons.
“You should have been stricter with her when she was young,” said Uncle Benjamin. “I don’t see how I could have been,” said Mrs. Frederick—truthfully enough.
this line cracks me up every time I read this book
the supreme irony of orson scorson corson's virulent transmisogyny is that ender from enders game is like one of the most chillingly and accurately transmisogynized characters in all of science fiction
ohhhh yup. yeah. so that's why I liked that book so much as a kid. it was very easy to immerse myself in ender's world
if you take the explicit notion that is in the text that peter represents masculine power and aggression and valentine represents feminine love and nurturing, which the two of them discuss when making their decision to argue one another's viewpoints in the public sphere so as to temper each of their extremities, and you read that onto the notion that is again explicit in the text that ender, a "third" child who is illegal by birth and has only been permitted to be born in hopes that he can be the goldilocks child between his siblings' poles, is somehow the fusion of both of their natures, a quality which best qualifies ender out of anyone on earth to be sent to The Child Abuse Institute for Making Boys Into Weapons and trained through homosocial abuse to view genocidal violence toward an alien other as a game to be won, an experience which breaks him completely, it kinda just is like. bruh
fuck would estrogen have saved him, would estrogen have saved the buggers??? (what a name)
he is constantly wishing he was valentine and hating any part of himself that is peter. the most haunting line in the book, to me, which i can quote to this day from memory, was always after the brain implant which lets the military scientists monitor him is removed and he's ambushed (!) by a group of older boys (!!!) and he explicitly breaks the masculine code of fair fighting (!!!!!) by cheap shotting the ringleader and then stomping him on the ground, and once the fight is won and he gets away and he's completely sick with guilt and self hatred at having lashed out in violence, in his despair he says "I am just like Peter. Take my monitor away, and I am just like Peter."
my explicit goal in writing this post is to get it reblogged and spread so widely that orson scott card sees it and finally cracks her poisonous self hating little egg. it's never too late you wack bitch
everybody wants to fuck my run-on sentence that has like 8 clauses and is a 4 full inches tall on a screen
“The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see the writing as emerging like a long scroll of ink from the index finger of your right hand; you must see your left hand erasing it.”
— Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
Hate how lighting a candle does wonders to my mood. Like wowwww. Grug like fire? Grug not sad anymore because Fire in Cave? Wow. Real predictable of Grug.
The problem with reading murder novels is that I always think I’m better than them. If I, through inaction, allowed my frenemy to die, surely I would not be consumed by guilt and self-doubt. Surely this is an illogical response to the situation. Surely I could just get on with my life, free of the thought of their last rattling breath. And then I realize I am exactly like them, and therefore I keep reading murder novels.