Asterix is such a little ragdoll, it’s irresistible to draw him unconscious.
hello vonnie
i don't do bad sauce passes
tumblr dot com
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Cosimo Galluzzi

@theartofmadeline
No title available

Kiana Khansmith
Today's Document
One Nice Bug Per Day
Sweet Seals For You, Always

⁂

pixel skylines
Xuebing Du
sheepfilms
will byers stan first human second
No title available
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

JVL
Sade Olutola
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from China

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Thailand
@joeytaylor
Asterix is such a little ragdoll, it’s irresistible to draw him unconscious.
Tomorrow (!!) I get to speak as part of a panel of fantasy authors! (ಠ͜ʖರೃ) The panel's topic is stories and writing as tools for healing. While we'll all be talking about our published stuff I've also been asked specifically to put aside time to talk about fanfiction. (Which is so fucking cool! The presentation of fanfic alongside published literature, and not segmented into its own thing!)
There's so many things I want to talk about, like: IP, 'ownership' of ideas, and how that influences trauma narratives; how engaging with difficult, challenging source media factors into our personal & collective wellbeing; the ups and downs of fanfic being an inherently collaborative and community-oriented space; and many others.
But most of all, I think what I'd like to carry forward into our discussion tomorrow is the idea that someone else's artistic process and output doesn't have to make any sense to you.
I don't necessarily mean this in the 'everyone is valid uwu' way, as that sentiment can often waver in the face of art that is considered ugly or unpalatable. This framing also frequently squashes nuance around common narratives that can spring up in fandoms as trojan horses full of unexamined racism, misogyny, transphobia, flawed understandings of mental illness, etc.
Instead, I mean: we can see people making art that is violent and strange, or tooth-rottingly fluffy, or unrelentingly sad and bleak, or wildly idealistic & overwrought - and it might give you hives according to your own understanding of canon and characters, but it's not necessarily about you as a generic 'reader.'
It's about the one person who stops to look as a hundred other readers pass by and goes 'hey, I think that's me.' Or it's about the act of throwing something out into the world and asserting it, regardless of reception. Or any number of things, which may not even register to you as something valuable another human being might get out of creating art. (Especially relevant in fandom spaces where profit cannot be a motive, and you're very likely to encounter art that hasn't been filtered through any process meant to make it legible to a wider audience.)
All that to say, healing isn't a 'line goes up' graph chart. It needs to encompass concepts that are spiky and difficult, it needs to encompass momentary reprieves and catharses that don't contribute to a linear additive concept of recovery, it needs to sit with and grieve the knowledge that there's sometimes only so much an individual can do. & this all applies to creating compelling stories, but also to us as human beings and the art we make.
Doctor: $140,000 a year
Furry artist on Patreon: $160,000 a year
I’m sorry for the inaccuracies, Doctor Yiff
Well, furry artists are typically more competent and courteous than your average doctor, so I can see that.
Did you just legitimately tell me that a person who draws wolf ass is more competent than a dude who spent 8+ years in a university to give you your lung transplant?
doctors are bullshit and furry artists perform an infinitely more valuable service to society compared to them
You will die in 7 days
It took doctor’s like 10 years to diagnose what was wrong with me, some insisting I was faking for attention while a furry artist I knew just went “that sounds like crohn’s” after hearing me complain once and ended up being right
Also I can’t go to a doctor and ask them to draw Rouge the Bat wider than she is tall with tits to match, now can I
You could if you weren’t a fucking coward
World Heritage Post
Art by coolfrogdude together at last
[ID: a comic illustrating the above thread as if it was happening in a theater. The users are mostly shaped like their icons, pukicho is a pikachu and hokuto-ju-no-ken is a gengar. The last panel is gengar looks back where a speech bubble comes out of the crowd to say, “you could if you weren’t a fucking coward.” /end]
I can’t believe I’m actually seeing this post
Magic of tumblr,
I am morally obligated to add the YouTube video whenever this thread crosses my dash
I’ve seen this thread more than a few times. But this is the first time I’ve seen this video. So thank you for your service.
@hellsite-hall-of-fame
Happy Valentine's/Palentine's Day, Joey! I just wanted to let you know, even in this small way, you how much you mean to me today. No matter how this days finds you, whether hype or blue, I want to let you know that I care about you. You fill my world with so much light, thank you for making my every day bright. Your deer-est friend who's loyal to the end, ~ Moon 🦌 💛💛💛💛💛💛
Awww thank you!!
Also, not to be a conspiracy theorist, but how conveniently timed is it that Discord is rolling out global age verification during a time when the US government wants to identify, kidnap, detain, and kill any "illegal" immigrants (and frankly, anyone they don't like), and they've had relatively little luck in doing so because a lot of us that they're targeting are all in our little servers on that platform, some probably coordinating for anti-ICE efforts on them or in group chats, because the majority of us trusted that we couldn't be identified there, and suddenlyyy "give us your papers"? 🤔🤔🤔
I feel this is part of the larger scope of the US' imperialism and fascism since people who are critical of the US, who don't live in the US are also on Discord, so like, idk, they could expose all of us on the platform by forcing us to verify ourselves, while also dismantling all the NSFW infrastructure at the same time so... Minors can allegedly be safer? I think it'd be the opposite.
Anyway, just thoughts for this morning. Do with them what you may.
https://www.nytimes.com/2026/02/13/technology/dhs-anti-ice-social-media.html
AHAH! I FUCKING KNEW IT!! I HATE THAT I WAS RIGHT BUT I KNEW IT!!! I'M NOT CRAZY!!!!
This is exactly why I had been refusing to let people discuss anything that could get them arrested in my servers. I saw this a long time ago. I just don’t enjoy when proof surfaces.
“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”
not even risking that shit
scrolled past this, re-evaluated my life, then SCROOOLLLED back up and hit the damn reblog button.
Last comment same thing. Sorry to the next person who sees this. I just can’t risk it. I have things I need to do before my life becomes hell. Lol
man i fucking hate yall who tf put this up knowing damn well we all gonna reblog it im heated im really sick af bout this
I don’t play that shit lol sorry
WHyyyy
Sorry everyone
If only if only the woodpecker sighs the bark on the tree was as soft as the sky why the wolf waits below hungry and lonely he cries to the moon if only if only
Shiddd
this post followed me to Facebook and im sooo annoyed!
It’s been a MINUTE since I’ve seen Madame Zeroni, fr fr
I HATE TUMBLR FKKKK SAKES
LMAOOOO
Not tryna fuck up any of my planetary Returns~
One time I didn’t and I was broke for like a month but the next time I seen it I rebloged it and a bitch just got 500 out the blue and a 20 gift card
Reblogging for 2020. Happy New Year, everyone.
I’m not risking it
After 2020??? This shit isn’t a joke!
I’m actually so thankful this popped up right now because I need that and this post always works
To everyone who sees this bc of my dumb ass im sorry but I already have bad enough luck as it is sooo say hi to Madame Zeroni
Never seen this lady before, but not gonna risk it 🤷♂️
If you scroll pass this you don’t got ten dollars
Need my $10
Guys i literally just got tipped $10 at work
I aint risking it.
10 10 10
Always reblog money cat
self-compassion: an antidote to shame mb
i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever
i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever
i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever
i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever
i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever
Movement nudge! Just do something!
X
Not gonna lie. Everytime I see her face on my insta feed, I immediately get up and do something. She has me trained.
🐐THE GOAT HAS FALLEN 🐐
HELL YEAH!!!!
Well this is a good sign! Almost every year this thing has died, it’s been a good year after and when it survives it is not
HERE’S THE THING THOUGH
I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click
And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”
So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is
“No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.”
I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:
“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security.”
I accidentally called the director of the FBI.
My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.
This is my new favourite story.
When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.
There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.
The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.
During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”
So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound.
I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.
So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…
“Uh… Is Shantavia there?”
It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.
There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.
The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.
Every time I try to find this story, I end up having to search google with a variety of terms that I’m sure have gotten me flagged by some watchlist, so I’m reblogging it again where I swear I’ve reblogged it before.
But none of these stories even come close to the best one of them all; a wrong number is how the NORAD Santa Tracker got started.
Seriously, this is legit.
In December 1955, Sears decided to run a Santa hotline. Here’s the ad they posted.
Only problem is, they misprinted the number. And the number they printed? It went straight through to fucking NORAD. This was in the middle of the Cold War, when early warning radar was the only thing keeping nuclear annihilation at bay. NORAD was the front line.
And it wasn’t just any number at NORAD. Oh no no no.
Terri remembers her dad had two phones on his desk, including a red one. “Only a four-star general at the Pentagon and my dad had the number,” she says.
“This was the ‘50s, this was the Cold War, and he would have been the first one to know if there was an attack on the United States,” Rick says.
The red phone rang one day in December 1955, and Shoup answered it, Pam says. “And then there was a small voice that just asked, ‘Is this Santa Claus?’ ”
His children remember Shoup as straight-laced and disciplined, and he was annoyed and upset by the call and thought it was a joke — but then, Terri says, the little voice started crying.
“And Dad realized that it wasn’t a joke,” her sister says. “So he talked to him, ho-ho-ho’d and asked if he had been a good boy and, ‘May I talk to your mother?’ And the mother got on and said, ‘You haven’t seen the paper yet? There’s a phone number to call Santa. It’s in the Sears ad.’ Dad looked it up, and there it was, his red phone number. And they had children calling one after another, so he put a couple of airmen on the phones to act like Santa Claus.”
“It got to be a big joke at the command center. You know, ‘The old man’s really flipped his lid this time. We’re answering Santa calls,’ ” Terri says.
And then, it got better.
“The airmen had this big glass board with the United States on it and Canada, and when airplanes would come in they would track them,” Pam says.
“And Christmas Eve of 1955, when Dad walked in, there was a drawing of a sleigh with eight reindeer coming over the North Pole,” Rick says.
“Dad said, ‘What is that?’ They say, ‘Colonel, we’re sorry. We were just making a joke. Do you want us to take that down?’ Dad looked at it for a while, and next thing you know, Dad had called the radio station and had said, ‘This is the commander at the Combat Alert Center, and we have an unidentified flying object. Why, it looks like a sleigh.’ Well, the radio stations would call him like every hour and say, ‘Where’s Santa now?’ ” Terri says.
For real.
“And later in life he got letters from all over the world, people saying, ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ for having, you know, this sense of humor. And in his 90s, he would carry those letters around with him in a briefcase that had a lock on it like it was top-secret information,” she says. “You know, he was an important guy, but this is the thing he’s known for.”
“Yeah,” Rick [his son] says, “it’s probably the thing he was proudest of, too.”
So yeah. I think that might be the best wrong number of all time.
Source: http://www.npr.org/2014/12/19/371647099/norads-santa-tracker-began-with-a-typo-and-a-good-sport
No okay THAT is adorable and I’m queueing this for next December.
Same.
perfect timing! :D