Stop Your Heart @littlefallintime - Tumblr Blog

"adults trying to stay "hip" and keep up with youth culture and being years late is so cringey"

adult secret: its all intentional. nothing will prepare you for how fun it is to watch a teenagers face as you dab at them. i will floss when they least expect it and I will love every second of their horror.

doggosource

The best thing about dogs is you can act like something really good just happened and they’ll instantly start celebrating too they have no idea what the context is, they’re just always ready to party no matter what

trevenanl-deactivated20200913

the 👏 best 👏 time 👏 to 👏 wear 👏 a 👏 striped 👏 sweater 👏 is 👏 all 👏 the 👏 time

danceintheskies

strawberry milk don’t taste like strawberry but it sure as hell tastes like pink

blexinthecity

tea

danceintheskies

girl it’s milk

evelynhug0

cannibality-deactivated20250227

Boney M toured the USSR in 1978, his grandchildren could have heard about how severely their granddad fucks live

britnxyspears

Rasputin didnt fuck as much as those outfits

skywitchmaja

when you’re out at a restaurant or a coffee shop or a target or whatever with your friends and you overhear/eavesdrop the same snippet of some stranger’s conversation, and you look at each other for a second to check that you both heard this stranger say the same weird/funny/baffling thing and just break out in knowing grins and quiet laughter… that’s a love language

blooming-conifers

I was eating alone at a mexican restaurant once and a group of college kids were chatting over tortilla chips. There was some jabber and then..

“ ..we had to climb over the bob wire!”

“Dude, did you just say ‘bob wire’?”

“Yea man, that spiky shit!”

“You actually think it’s called bob wire? Like fucking Robert wire? You think it’s called Robert wire?”

“Well what the hell do you think it’s called?”

“It’s BARB wire you idiot! Like Barbara wire!”

*the third guy* “Oh my god. You guys. BARBED wire. Because the wire has barbs, it is BARBED.”

“Oohhhhh!”

“Fucking Robert and Barbara wire. Fuck you guys.”

eljardineroguapo420

citizen-zero

goodboydeathsquad

Couldn’t let alqueda win you fucking pussies

welter-and-waste

I’ve read the article about him, he outright said he was so shocked by 9/11 the only thing he could think to do was go bowling

welter-and-waste

toccatainfsharpminor-deactivate

Big Lebowski energy here

robin-hood-for-freedom

'Fuck it, let's go bowling '

Words to live by

gahdamnpunk

Landlord tears are among few things that make me happy these days

ahotknife

those westerns finally make sense now. it’s like honey i’m going into town. i’ll pick up sugar, flour, beans, salt pork, bullets, and kerosene. do you want a bolt of calico? some maple syrup? i’m taking the wagon i’ll be back in three days

weirdly-friendly

Me after commiting a minor mistake

whitepeopletwitter

occidentaltourist

Same energy

valtsv

every conflict in fake dating fics is like “we literally kissed in front of my whole family today but you won’t face me while we’re both sleeping in my bed because that’s just too personal i guess”

valtsv

@dykeiel is cyberbullying me you guys

calledchaos

The tags alone were a fanfic

hellenhighwater

My stage career began when I was a little under two months old, when I took the spotlight as Baby Jesus in a Christmas pageant. I’m told that I did a wonderful job and slept calmly through the whole thing, which can only speak to my talents as an actress, because I was 1. the wrong gender 2. a colicky screaming demon of a baby and 3. about as far from divine as it’s possible for an allegedly-human child to be.

I continued to be actively involved in theater as a kid (and frequently played roles of various small animals, because I was tiny for my age). Around the age of ten, I was cast as the lead character in a musical about cowboys that I no longer remember the name of. It was my first real lead role, and I took it very, very seriously. And because I am myself, that means I maaaaybe went…a little overboard.

My character’s introduction was early in the play, accompanied by the crack of a bullwhip. This was more-or-less pre internet (or, at least, our director was not tech-savvy enough to find sound effects online) and we didn’t have a sound effect track for that noise. There were plans to acquire the appropriate sound effect before opening night, but I rapidly tired of making my entrance during rehearsals to the sound of someone yelling “BULLWHIP NOISE!”

This, I thought to myself, is a problem I can solve.

I learned early in life that it’s good to be friends with people who have skills; they always come in handy eventually. After rehearsals one day, I put on my cowboy boots and biked a couple miles over to my friend Grace’s house. I went down to their basement and knocked on her older brother’s door.

“Hello,” I said. “I need to learn how to use a bullwhip.”

“….Okay,” he said. It did not seem to occur to him that he might ask further questions about why I, a tiny horrible munchkin composed exclusively of rage and pointy elbows, needed to be weaponized any further. Clearly, I had come to the right person.

My friend’s older brother would have been an SCA nerd, if SCA was a thing where we were. Instead, he was one of those unsupervised 4H kids with weird hobbies, largely oriented around ancient forms of combat. He was somewhere in his late teens at this time, and he liked to make stuff. It was an urge I, even at age ten, could sympathize with. His name was Aron.

Aron got out his bullwhip (which I had noticed hanging on his wall on a prior visit, and had filed away mentally under a for future use tab) and we went to the backyard.

“Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron began, “Swinging the bullwhip.”

We rapidly discovered that since I was god’s tiniest, angriest creation, a full-size bullwhip was way too long for me to use. Aron’s shins suffered for my attempt.

“…Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron said, “Making a bullwhip.”

So we went back inside, found a tanned cowhide (that he just…had? I don’t remember if there was a reason for this.) and some razor blades, and I learned how to cut and braid a bullwhip. It took a few tries, and I wound up coming back for a while, because I kept getting frustrated with the bullwhip-braiding process and Aron kept distracting me with bait like: “Hey kid, wanna learn to make some chainmail?” and “Hey kid, wanna fletch some arrows?” and “Hey kid, wanna try doing horseback archery?”

Obviously the answer to these questions was “BOY, WOULD I EVER!” Some delays are necessary to the artistic process.

(At one point my mom asked me “Hellen, what are you doing over at Grace’s house all the time?” And I, perfectly innocent, said, “Making weapons!” and my mother, who never understood why I was like this, but accepted that a girl has needs and those needs occasionally involve stocking a personal armory, said “Okay! Have fun!”)

Soon, the bullwhip, size extra small, was finished. The lessons on actual bullwhip use commenced.

It should be noted that Aron was self-taught, and really had no idea what to do, so this was mostly an exercise in the two of us standing twenty feet apart and flailing wildly with our respective whips until snapping noises happened. And then we figured out what we’d done to make the snapping noises. And then we kept doing that. Extremely vigorously. So vigorously that at one point one of the bullwhips launched into the air and caught on a tree branch and we hand to drag the trampoline over so Aron could bounce me high enough to grab it. But we persisted!

Eventually we reached a point where we could line up pop cans on a fence rail and hit them off three times out of five.

Feeling extremely accomplished and like I finally understood method acting, I packed my bullwhip into my backpack for the next play rehearsal. Soon enough, it was time for me to make my entrance.

I leaped on stage in my cowboy boots and cracked the bullwhip as hard as I could, immediately launching into the song despite the fact that the sound of five feet of braided leather breaking sound barrier had startled the accompanist so badly she’d keysmashed on the piano.

The director shouted something she probably shouldn’t have shouted in a room full of small children, and then demanded, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!”

“I made it!” I declared proudly. “I’m a cowgirl! I can make my own bullwhip noise!”

“You…made it?”

“Yes! Because we needed a bullwhip sound effect. And bullwhips are where bullwhip sound effects come from!”

This was, of course, impeccable logic.

It is apparently difficult to argue with a gleeful ten year old who happens to be armed with a bullwhip longer than she is tall. After some negotiation, the director agreed that I could use my bullwhip for my opening song, provided that I didn’t pop it while anyone was anywhere near me on stage and I didn’t let anyone else play with it. These terms were acceptable to me.

Somehow, no one was injured and the play went off without a hitch. We can only chalk up these things to the magic of the theatre.

Nearly a decade later, an unsuspecting college classmate asked me, “Hellen, wanna take a class on bullwhip combat with me?”

And obviously I answered, “BOY, WOULD I EVER!”

non-bender-world

Can we consider how many people Toph caused internal bleeding and broken bones?

comradekatara

oh honey they are fully dead

chemicalmagecraft

No but Toph was a professional earthbending wrestler with the power to feel the whole human body at once through vibrations with enough accuracy to tell lies. She knows exactly how much pressure the human body can take before important things start breaking or I’ll go buy a hat for the sole purpose of eating it.

comradekatara

oh, sure. she doesn’t care though. she’s 12 and she’s thriving and she loves to murder

sussura

Aang: I have to defeat Ozai, but I don’t think I can murder anyone

Toph: I can do it.

Aang:

Toph: I’ve killed like 20 people since we met

Aang:

Sokka:

Katara:

panpteryx

Toph: I mean you guys have killed a bunch of people too

Aang: what no I haven’t I’ve never killed anyone!

Toph: twinkletoes you pick people up and drop them and blow them into walls. katara hits people with water hard enough to throw them to the ground and encases them in ice. Zuko’s straight-up throwing fire at people. Sokka hits people with a club.

Katara:

Aang:

Sokka:

Toph: when you hit people really hard they often die. I mean, I feel it every time. not counting the head trauma and frostbite that probably means they die later.

Toph: ….did you guys not know you were killing people?

Zuko: I mean I wasn’t going to bring it up but she’s right

Toph: I thought we were all doing it on purpose!

Zuko: it’s all in self-defense, it’s not like we’re going out of our way to kill people, but these things happen. Sometimes people have to die to protect everyone else. I thought you understood that already

Katara:

Sokka:

Aang:

Aang: *extremely loud airbender scream*