trying on a metaphor
🪼
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
cherry valley forever
h
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Mike Driver
sheepfilms
shark vs the universe
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
DEAR READER
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
we're not kids anymore.
izzy's playlists!
titsay
$LAYYYTER
NASA
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Love Begins
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@gock-22
Why the Visuals Don't Break the Spell
Nothing ruins immersion like visuals that don't match. SweetDream avoids that by keeping the photos and videos consistent with the companion you designed, so she always looks like herself.
That coherence is a quiet quality win. The AI-generated images are beautiful and on-character, which keeps the whole AI girlfriend experience believable. sweetdream.ai gets the details that protect the magic.
norp! im playin in da bowl :3
When the catapillars stopped eating healthy leaves and started to only eat poisoned meats something dark and devilish crawled out of the coccoon and burrowed into the deep clay of earth without any wings
STOP! before you decide you are irretrievably doomed, try one of the following options:
transition
bdsm
iron supplements
sleep study
ADHD medication
DBT
vitamin D
go outside for an hour and observe birds
eat a snack
drink water
Maybe do these in reverse order
Don't listen to them! Transgender BDSM now!!!!
You're going to have a busy day after all of that and I think a nice snack and tall glass of water would be a wonderful cap to the evening.
at some point in your life you will be boiling fruit, water, sugar, and lemon juice in a pot to make a syrup or jam. the instructions will tell you to simmer for a certain amt of time. your timer will go off and you will look at the pot and go, "hm, this doesn't look thick enough. maybe i'll let it go for another 10 minutes." this is the devil speaking. it's only so liquid right now because it is at boiling point. it will thicken when it cools down. learn from the follies of my youth and do not let this happen to you
at some point in your life you will be making a sauce or a stew in which you need to add cornstarch to thicken it. and you will prepare a slurry of starch in cold water and think "this looks like way too little starch to thicken this amount of liquid." this is the devil speaking. cornstarch instantly polymerizes at 95°C and if you add too much it will turn into an impossibly thick goop.
at some point in your life you will be making some sort of cream based dessert that requires gelatin to thicken it. and you will soak some gelatin sheets in water and think "this is too few gelatin sheets for this amount of cream." this is the devil speaking. it will thicken in the fridge and if you add too much you will end up with milk jelly
at some point in your life you will be baking cookies. you will take the sheet out after twelve minutes as the recipe instructs and the cookies will still be glistening and soft. "these don't seem cooked enough," you will think to yourself, "i should place them back into the oven until their edges are nice and golden." this is the devil talking. this is how you get dry, overdone cookies. the cookies will continue to bake on the warm sheet for several more minutes and then harden up after sitting on a rack for a while. trust the process. trust the process.
trust the process. learning from *other* ppl's mistakes is the smoothest path to wisdom.
"It's like a hole in my life, an eight-year hole. That's what I find interesting in people's lives, the holes, the gaps, sometimes dramatic, but sometimes not dramatic at all. There are catalepsies, or a kind of sleepwalking through a number of years, in most lives. Maybe it's in these holes that movement takes place."
—Gilles Deleuze, On Philosophy
Clare Victor Dwiggins, 1908
I was amused by this rather “freaky” bit of Edwardiana, especially since I always got the feeling that Charles Dana Gibson, when drawing the Gibson Girl, was at least partially fantasizing about being stepped on or something.
me: man I sure hope somebody has shown op Charles Dana Gibson's "The weaker sex" where the four Gibson girls are studying the tiny little man like a bug
tumblr user ingridverse: way ahead of you
That’s mainly the piece I was thinking about when I made my original post (and one of my favorites of Gibson’s)! Another user @phenoob mentioned in their tags Gibson has a piece literally titled “Stepped On,” which I am embarrassed to say I was not familiar with:
Allerlei Gedanken in Vignettenform - Carl Otto Czeschka - 1902 - via Internet Archive
Signalis Phase - Atzi
“I’d need to know what it is before I said one way or the other.” There was an itch at the back of my neck, and I scratched it impulsively. Already a bad feeling with it in the room. “Maybe I like watching them die? Maybe I am ready to die myself, eh?” The words didn’t sound as funny as I thought they would.
“Perhaps. Perhaps you’d like to do something that would actually save lives, instead?” It produced a paper. “Here. Read this. It’s a request from the Choeur. I’ll summarize it for you.” I took it, put the paper aside, and sipped my hot water. “Two hundred klicks out, there’s a facility that was doing some work for the empire. Things went sideways, we lost contact, and we need a battalion of Legionnaires to go in and find out what happened. You’d be taking your battalion here, and myself. There’s some scientists that need to be pulled out as high value targets, and their research. The church is also asking we pull out some hearts of their members. If we do nothing, the higher ups I talked to think that whatever is going on there will spread.”
I let out a cold chuckle. “Me, in charge? What, did the church think I was an auspicious choice?” I glanced at the papers, scanning the document. I blinked as I read something. “Archaeotech Recovery Operations…? What the fuck?”
“No clue. Every information request I made was denied. Which means we either don’t know anything, or it’s so top secret that the people I’m asking don’t have clearance. Either way, we’re going in tonight. This is your chance out of here, Capitaine.”
“And the brass sent you instead of the Aria because they knew that one of their more holy machines might make me say no?” The volter stiffened, then nodded as it looked away. It’d be cute, if I didn’t know what it really was. The Aria would be even worse. Not just a fake biomechanical face, but an entire biomechanical body with natural movements and flesh. “Alright. Let’s say I did accept. What are we facing?”
“Don’t know. Last few messages cut off entirely. Your papers have as much information as I got.”
“Great. Well, I’ll think about it.” Bullshit deserved bullshit. I had no desire to send my people in a suicide mission for nothing.
“If you complete this mission, everyone gets to get off this planet. I want you to really think about what that means for your boys and girls. They’ll get a parade.” It was my turn to stiffen. I put my hot water down, and looked at the paper. “It said you’d get a triumph thrown in your honor. You’d be made a saint.”
My hands trembled as I read the passage again. “They can’t be serious.”
“Your commanders know you’ve been here without leave for a decade. Ever since we started the blockade, and taking the homeworld back, right?” The RVLT looked me dead in the eye, and this time I looked away, ashamed my desires were so apparent. I hate being manipulated. “Triumphs are always held on Buyan.”
“I know that! Fuck you, you think I love watching the rain fall. It’s quiet. Peaceful. It washes the city free of dirt, and grime. I love the smell of the rain – it covers the scent of the city, of smoke. The dirty rivulets as it runs down the windows are proof of that.
Best of all, the gunfire stops. No one likes it when their guns are wet. Not even the Replika’s of the enemy. It was nice to finally be able to sit down on a box next to my bunker’s window, and eat something. It was just crackers with some paste that tasted more like ash than “nutrients”, like the package claimed it was labeled. The last time I’d eaten anything resembling food, I’d been fifteen, in boot camp, and graduating. I could still remember the taste of that grilled corn.
Being able to sit meant that I also finally had time to mourn for my best friend, who’d died twelve hours ago. I’d lost count of my number of best friends for a while now. I couldn’t help myself from it, even knowing how it would end. We all knew. She was older than me, a veteran for longer; I thought I’d go first. She certainly thought the same. The tears for her came slowly, because I had to force myself to feel them. I was so worn out, I could only get a few out, but that would have to do, I thought. People deserve to have someone mourn for them, even if it was only a few tears.
It was getting harder every time to feel something for them. To feel much of anything, really. The building I was posted in was quiet, even if it was full of people doing the exact same thing as me. I could barely hear one of the new recruits one room over, sobbing quietly into her jacket. Probably the only one left in her squad. It’d been a bad 12 hours. To be fair, it’d been a bad 10 years since we landed on the homeworld. The propaganda always said the same thing; the blockade was working, that Vineta would be ours soon.
I flinched as I heard metal scrape on a pebble and reached for my sidearm reflexively. “Stand down, Kuautli Capitaine Atzi Cuepiltia,” the whispered, yet harsh voice told me exactly what it was; an RVLT, or Volter. I looked over at it and forced myself to put the handgun down. It looked up at me, somehow expressing tiredness in it’s dead eyes. I hated these things. Our Repliques are no different than their Replikas.
Like all Volters, this one was a miniscule four feet and five inches tall. They weren’t necessarily meant for direct combat, even if they always carried knives, or short swords. Strangely, this one carried a short estoc. The elaborate design told me more about her than any physical feature of herself; she was good at fighting, and even better as a pilot, which was what they were designed for. Their weaponry was how they distinguished themselves amongst other Volters. Physically, it was feminine in shape, like most Replique, and as dark as I am. “What do you want, sir?” I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice.
“Your time. A chance to talk. You’re being offered something,” it rested a hand on the hilt of it’s estoc, at ease with the situation. “You have the opportunity to turn this down, if you like. Or you can continue in your command here, watching the boys and girls under you die in this pissant ground war between trenches.”
I don’t know that? Do you even know how much we want this? Are you even old enough to remember when we made our vows, and chose our names, and began to fight for our homeworld? I was born here. I was ready to die here. I was ready to die fifteen years ago, when I took my name. You were made in a fucking factory, and instead of being the one dying out here on the front fucking lines like me, you’re giving orders!” I’d barely managed to keep my voice down.
“You’re not the only eagle in this room, Capitaine. You’re not the only one who is tired of being on this planet. You think I’m some unfeeling machine, and maybe you’re right, but I’m tired. I’m tired of the competition. I’m tired of being the best. I’m tired of everything to do with war. I’ve been at the top of my game for ten years, and I’m one of the oldest Volters there are. I watch my sisters die every single day in the skies for you, and I’m glad, because they get to get out before it sours. Their last thoughts are of how they are going to remembered for being one of the best, the most brave. They won’t even be remembered by their sisters.” I watched as it’s… her hands shook. “The next closest battalion with a veteran Capitaine is a hundred klicks further away, and they’re a jaguar. A fucking ueyoselotl. I need your experience. I need the guarantee of the best.”
alternate universe where instead of Yezhov being removed from that one Stalin picture they instead added a second Yezhov because they loved him so much
we can go further
*guy who has repressed every feeling he's ever had* yeah I'm just really good at rolling with the punches I guess haha
Hey darling come here. I promise it’ll be okay.
i love you tumblr user isuggestforcefem
Post: atheist youtubers are overdosing on deep rock galactic pussy me: not true Post: bunnies and cats are learning how to write in new language called US american cuneiform me: thats right
Mundane America. Broken pole with rope and an American Flag. Cincinnati, Ohio.
Wait. Wait.
Wait.
I know that telephone pole.
I know that telephone pole intimately because I’m the one who broke it.
Thats the pole next to Sycamore Jr. High, in between the jr high school and Pipkins, where I had my second car accident. A woman t-boned my car and drove me into that pole in 2008 and it took them years to actually take it down.
That black metal pole you see just beyond the broken phone pole is a “Now Leaving/Welcome To Blue Ash, Ohio” sign, visible at 5520 Cooper Road on google maps.
(the flag is there, btw, because its the starting point for the Blue Ash/Montgomery July 4th parade.)
The internet is so staggeringly immense that I can’t help but be disproportionately delighted when things like this happen.
I'm sending him to the glue factory
this is how it is with The Creature
