She wants to be a scientist
I support her
Thank
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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Today's Document
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
No title available

★

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@gamzeeesleftside
She wants to be a scientist
I support her
Thank
Tumblr can be a toxic place please be careful
Just because you see something on tumblr doesn’t mean it’s true. Please source check and make sure a valid link is included with info. (Regarding article headers and such)
Not everyone on Tumblr agrees on the same things. Please know you don’t deserve to die over a disagreement. Don’t tell other users to kill themselves either.
Callout posts will happen, but are usually unnecessary. Remember to check the blog of the person being called out before making assumptions. Don’t call out unless a user is a real threat to others and you are trying to promote safety.
You don’t need to reblog those “reblog this is ___ seconds or this will happen!” I promise nothing bad will actually happen to you. This also goes for “if you don’t signal boost this you’re terrible!!!” etc
There are many different age groups on tumblr, so please be mindful of a minors safety. If you have a nsfw blog remember to flag it, making it harder for underage users to find. There are separate tags in nsfw communities. There is no excuse to fill sfw tags with unflagged nsfw content.
Don’t take anon hate too seriously, some people are just angry. Remember you can always block an anon’s IP address if you don’t respond. Also just flat out avoid sending anon hate. (especially to minors) it can really hurt people and is a waste of time, let’s be honest.
Overall: Remember Tumblr is supposed to be a fun experience. I hope you are enjoying it, stay safe!
ᵖˢˢˢᵗ⋅⋅⋅⋅⋅ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᶠᶠ﹖﹖
yeah…. you got your end of the deal?
here you go… just like you said… one turtle…. now where’s my request?
One frog…. Just like you wanted
good… thanks…. now leave forever….
i could get this image printed on a dakimakura. nothing is stopping me. its the right dimensions and resolution and size and i have the money. i could literally own a fucked up anime sex pillow but with an image of French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. what a time to be alive
never give up on your dreams
this is one of those posts that would be 100% worth explaining the internet to people from 1821
people need to stop attacking teenage girls who write poetry about turning into wolves and having flowers growing in their ribs bc there are literally grown men writing celebrated poems and novels about how much they hate women
I would rather read 20 hours of teen Halsey-like angst than read another story about some dicksack crying about how betrayed he feels because the women he bought dinner for didnt suck his dick
me: *throws an entire pineapple into lake* i wish to speak with the harvest goddess
park ranger: maam this is private property you need to leave
I will continue to call The Creature “Frankenstein” and no force in Heaven or Earth will impede that.
I also laughed at him totally deliberately calling attention to the fact Victor isn’t a real doctor because he dropped out of college and built a guy out of corpses
He punched the lycanthropy right out of wolfman
did he just throw ygor out a window
An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.
It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled walls.
It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.
It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.
As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.
Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.
“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year! You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”
She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.
The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans would say.
That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.
“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.
It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.
Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.
The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.
“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright, dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”
The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.
“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”
When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms.
“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”
Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.
this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.
I want to reach Link levels of androgyny. Am I a boy? Am I a girl? Am I something else? Who knows, but there’s 90% chance I’m carrying a sword and doing magic with music in the woods
its “thighs rubbing together under ya sundress” season
Buy cute, cheap lace leggings. Cut them a little above your knee. Hem them or don’t, but then you can wear them under your sundresses and not worry about how you sit or if your thighs chafe, and if anyone sees them they look cute af so hell yes
Or a little deodorant between the thighs is magical
Also, LUSH sells this dust called Silky Underwear that makes your skin smooth so they don’t stick together or chafe.
I love that we’re all here for each other in this season of need
Monistat has an anti-chafing gel that works wonders and I live by. You can usually find it in the feminine care aisle of any drugstore.
There’s this stuff called Glide…pretty cheap & works hella miracles
I’m so ready for sundress season.
reblog to save a thigh
REBLOG TO SAVE A THIGH
If your SO can't make a decision about where to eat, play the 5-2-1 game. You give them 5 restaurants, they pick two, and you pick from those.
My gf of 3 years is the queen of “wherever” and “I don’t care” when it comes to this. This little game fixed our problem immediately. It takes the pressure off of her, but still gives her a choice about where to eat.
(this can also work with kids and indecisive friends)
How to hack executive dysfunction
have you taken your meds today?
quick check-in:
have you taken your meds today?
do you need to drink some water?
have you stretched recently?
do you need to eat?
do you need to take a minute to breathe and de-stress?
just because:
picture of a kitten!
picture of a puppy!
my policy for “they’re just doing it for attention” has always been and always will be “then someone needs to pay attention to them”
I’ve always thought this
Let me tell you about the time I worked as a computer teacher for a small private school. My first day went well, but in the staff room that day I was told I was lucky that this one kid was out sick. No one could control him.
Next week, he was in. It took me 10 minutes to determine that I was dealing with a 10 year old kid who was incredibly intelligent, more than a little bored, and loved being the center of attention.
He was also black. I say this because I think that a intelligent, somewhat bored, attention-seeking white kid might have been treated differently.
So, day one I made him sit by himself where no one could see him to stop him from taking over the class (which he was clearly used to doing).
Day two: I paid close attention to when he finished (not surprising, he was first and did everything correctly). I immediately told him he was helping me, and paired him with a struggling student.
My hunch was right; he made a excellent teacher. He thrived on having this other kid’s attention. He wasn’t bored. He was one of my best students.
He was a bright kid. And he needed people to pay attention to him and would settle for any kind of attention he could get. But when he was able to channel that positively, he was a great student and a really helpful classmate.
IMPORTANT POINT HERE
nonbinary people exist
whenever people are like “SKETCHING CIRCLES IN SAI IS SO HARD” im like
pffft I work with 6000X4000 and the size of the brush can be only not above 2000px
i dont use that trick
this is the sassiest and most helpful tutorial ever.
i wanna see bi tumblr and ace tumblr fight
But we love each other…
Aces are my friends why would I fight them :(
I would but consider this: I love bi people
aces & bi’s @ each other:
When you wanna make a joke about pitting marginalized groups against each other but then you realize they’ve been each others allies since the beginning
when you expose your own –phobic nature by assuming that bi people (a group stereotyped as promiscuous) and ace people (a group stereotyped as prudish) would hate each other despite facing the exact same brand of discrimination (both from straights and gays/lesbians)(they think we’re not a real orientation)(they thing we need to just pick a side)(they think we just haven’t found the right person yet)(say we’re not *really* LGBTA)
Also you realise that ‘bi aces’ are a thing right?
Starry beat me to it.
I mean let’s be honest I kick my own ass all the time but it’s not because part of me is bi and part of me is ace.
Bi and ace people receive almost the exact same brand of discrimination from both the straight and lgbt communities. Why on earth would we hate each other?