Forever Lime Feather @limesparrow - Tumblr Blog

listen i have not read homestuck. i will never read homestuck and i keep a poison pill in a fake tooth in case i am ever in a situation where i might have to read homestuck. but i think vriska deserves to win the tumblr girl poll

thyrell

i did not spend the past eight years of my life fighting off demons bare handed in order to not learn anything about vriska just for you guys to hand this poll to someone who is not vriska. katya goncharov could never have done that to me

#this is so fucking funny

tsukithewolf

There are readers out there that don’t understand conflicting emotions. The older you get, the more you realize just how little your feelings on certain matters are black and white. It’s not so easy to define how you feel towards one person, and that’s okay.

You may have a parent who has hurt you repeatedly and who you resent, but you still love them and don’t want them to be hurt because they’re your parent.

You might still burn with jealousy over your crush dating your friend while also wishing the best for them.

You might want to kill someone with all your heart and soul, and when it comes down to it you find you’re too scared to follow through.

You might be terrified to take a leap from an airplane even while knowing you’ll enjoy the thrill of the skydiving.

Feelings can coexist and be opposite. They might not be totally healthy in the long-run, but they’re normal and they’re part of the human experience.

Telling a person that “No, you should feel this way” about something is simply incorrect.

Sometimes love truly is stronger than any other negative emotion.

Writers, keep this advice in mind when you write. That’s how you create dynamic and complicated character.

flementbrax-deactivated20231216

vote cecil for sexyman 2023 !!!

apricots-on-a-holiday

Goodnight, Reigen. Goodnight.

#lmaooo #yeah.

billspreston-esq

an incomplete collection of tweets i consider to be short poems

billspreston-esq

zeelatunes

(npc voice) Hey, stay back! I’m warning you… wait a minute… you’re a human! Oh, thank goodness, I thought you were another one of those bots! You know, it’s dangerous for a human like you to be walking around these parts without an avatar. Here, let me loan you one of my spares.

[ You got the Jigglypuff icon! You can use this to get closer to other humans! ]

There you go, quite cute if I do say so myself. Just remember to be more careful from now on!

mcsiggy

it's been 10 years u_u

electricpurrs

homestuck as a whole is about jokingly pretending to enjoy things ironically to make fun of them and carrying itself in the facade of just doing a bit and never taking itself seriously but it commits to the bit so hard that it just goes 180 that its extremely genuine and it cant help but take itself extremely seriously. it can claim to be joking but no joke lasts 8,000 pages and by page 7,000 its just crying begging on its knees asking for you to care cause it cares so much and is deeply in love with itself and all the stupid things about it. it embraces itself fully in all its stupidity cause it has things to say and a story to tell. and its deeply enchanting if you can let yourself get in the bit too

redporkpadthai

The reason none of my wips get finished

thedaddycomplex

So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.

Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.

One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.

All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.

So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.

And Mr. Hargrove loved it.

It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.

Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”

And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.

Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.

One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.

That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.

And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.

And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)

So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.

Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.

witch-without-gender

This is the first time I’ve seen this post but I know I’m gonna love reading it every time it shows up on my dash

bogkeep

the kid but as a victorian lady who has tragically fallen on hard times

archadoodle

do i dare

archadoodle

they mean so much to me and ive barely touched the fourth chapter

unda-dsk

>:3c

#this fic is so good

the-text-doctor

philomurphy-deactivated20230323

in case you wanted your sword to be a different colour other than purple:

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chaos-canary

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☆Rainbow Sword☆

google-searchhistory-official

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the-arcade-doctor

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[ J:\\ GLITCH SWORD. ]