I accidentally glitched out an animation I was working on and created a perfect example of what the passage of time feels like to someone with ADHD
Show & Tell
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

titsay
YOU ARE THE REASON

@theartofmadeline
sheepfilms
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

roma★

No title available
DEAR READER
wallacepolsom

Product Placement

Kaledo Art

izzy's playlists!
we're not kids anymore.
No title available
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

★
Cosimo Galluzzi

Andulka

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@ohtruue
I accidentally glitched out an animation I was working on and created a perfect example of what the passage of time feels like to someone with ADHD
writing-prompt-s:
Valhalla does not discriminate against the kind of fight you lost. Did you lose the battle with cancer? Maybe you died in a fist fight. Even facing addiction. After taking a deep drink from his flagon, Odin slams his cup down and asks for the glorious tale of your demise!
Oh my god, this is beautiful.
A small child enters Valhalla. The battle they lost was “hiding from an alcoholic father.” Odin sees the flinch when he slams the cup and refrains from doing it again. He hears the child’s pain; no glorious battle this, but one of fear and wretched survival.
He invites the child to sit with him, offers the choicest mead and instructs his men to bring a sword and shield, a bow and arrow, of the very best materials and appropriate size. “Here,” he says, “you will find no man who dares to harm you. But so you will know your own strength, and be happy all your days in Valhalla, I will teach you to use these weapons.”
The sad day comes when another child enters the hall. Odin does not slam his cup; he simply beams with pride as the first child approaches the newcomer, and holds out her bow and quiver, and says “nobody here will hurt you. Everyone will be so proud you did your best, and I’ll teach you to use these, so you always know how strong you are.”
————
A young man enters the hall. He hesitates when Odin asks his story, but at long last, it ekes out: skinheads after the Pride parade. His partner got into a building and called for help. The police took a little longer than perhaps they really needed to, and two of those selfsame skinheads are in the hospital now with broken bones that need setting, but six against one is no fair match. The fear in his face is obvious: here, among men large enough to break him in two, will he face an eternity of torment for the man he left behind?
Odin rumbles with anger. Curses the low worms who brought this man to his table, and regales him with tales of Loki so to show him his own welcome. “A day will come, my friend, when you seek to be reunited, and so you shall,” Odin tells him. “To request the aid of your comrades in battle is no shameful thing.”
———-
A woman in pink sits near the head of the table. She’s very nearly skin and bones, and has no hair. This will not last; health returns in Valhalla, and joy, and light, and merrymaking. But now her soul remembers the battle of her life, and it must heal.
Odin asks.
And asks again.
And the words pour out like poisoned water, things she couldn’t tell her husband or children. The pain of chemotherapy. The agony of a mastectomy, the pain still deeper of “we found a tumor in your lymph nodes. I’m so sorry.” And at last, the tortured question: what is left of her?
Odin raises his flagon high. “What is left of you, fair warrior queen, is a spirit bright as fire; a will as strong as any forged iron; a life as great as any sea. Your battle was hard-fought, and lost in the glory only such furor can bring, and now the pain and fight are behind you.“
In the months to come, she becomes a scop of the hall–no demotion, but simple choice. She tells the stories of the great healers, Agnes and Tanya, who fought alongside her and thousands of others, who turn from no battle in the belief that one day, one day, the war may be won; the warriors Jessie and Mabel and Jeri and Monique, still battling on; the queens and soldiers and great women of yore.
The day comes when she calls a familiar name, and another small, scarred woman, eyes sunken and dark, limbs frail, curly black hair shaved close to her head, looks up and sees her across the hall. Odin descends from his throne, a tall and foaming goblet in his hands, and stuns the hall entire into silence as he kneels before the newcomer and holds up the goblet between her small dark hands and bids her to drink.
“All-Father!” the feasting multitudes cry. “What brings great Odin, Spear-Shaker, Ancient One, Wand-Bearer, Teacher of Gods, to his knees for this lone waif?”
He waves them off with a hand.
“This woman, LaTeesha, Destroyer of Cancer, from whom the great tumors fly in fear, has fought that greatest battle,” he says, his voice rolling across the hall. “She has fought not another body, but her own; traded blows not with other limbs but with her own flesh; has allowed herself to be pierced with needles and scored with knives, taken poison into her very veins to defeat this enemy, and at long last it is time for her to put her weapons down. Do you think for a moment this fight is less glorious for being in silence, her deeds the less for having been aided by others who provided her weapons? She has a place in this great hall; indeed, the highest place.”
And the children perform feats of archery for the entertainment of all, and the women sing as the young man who still awaits his beloved plays a lute–which, after all, is not so different from the guitar he once used to break a man’s face in that great final fight.
Valhalla is a place of joy, of glory, of great feasting and merrymaking.
And it is a place for the soul and mind to heal.
got told at lunch "you feel like Tumblr Incarnate" and i had to tell them i've been here for 13 years and counting. i was here three years before dashcon happened. i saw the mishapocalypse. i survived the gigapause. i've been here longer than the shoelaces post. i've been here since it was hipsters versus fandom and i played both sides extensively by overdoing the sepia filters on everything and making my own flashing galaxy gif edits for my fandom posts. i'm every tumblr. it's all in me
Oh ancient one what wisdom do you hold?
99% of callout posts are bullshit and just petty personal drama someone is escalating to get even on a grudge. do not engage with these, do not freelance as a cop
DNIs do not work. accept this. internalize that people you don't like will see your posts and engage with them. this is unavoidable and the sooner you make peace with it the freer your mind will be. block the freaks and don't sweat the small stuff
building a tight knit circle of fellow weirdos who vibe with your particular quirks and taste is infinitely more rewarding and sustainable than chasing the biggest numbers
don't respond to bad-faith arguments or bad takes; just block people, blacklist tags, filter post content, and move on. don't feed the trolls (or the bigots)
don't hate-follow
don't tag your hate (ex. if you're posting about how much you hate a ship, don't tag it as that ship, etc.)
don't feel obligated to keep following someone who posts stuff that upsets/depresses/angers/bores you just because you know them really well, or because you're mutuals, or because you used to like what they post. following is nothing personal and neither is unfollowing
op doesn't know you; avoid parasocial relationships
don't pick fights or reblog posts just to disagree/argue
spread joy and positivity in your circles
disable anonymous asks
i know most leftists agree that everybody should have a right to food, water, shelter, and healthcare but i think a vitally important fifth pillar is privacy. people should not be compelled to be tracked, monitored, or to share personal space with others to access their other essential rights
i feel like the knowledge that there are some medical databases with free-to-use 3D scans of various human organs available for 3D printing would have drastically reduced tumblrs amount of bone stealing scandals. plus you can make ones that glow in the dark.
look at my glow in the dark humerus boy
hey. if anyone wants em:
NIH 3D Library (Free)
Embodi3D (Free and Paid)
MorphoSource (Free, database of fossils)
Scans can also be found by searching on general-purpose 3D sites like Thingiverse, Cults3D, MakerWorld, Sketchfab
The glow in the dark filament I used
If you don’t have a 3D printer, check the website of your local library to see if they do! If you’re in college, your university’s libraries could have one too! They’ll likely have info on how to submit a print to their services and how/where you could find them.
hey can we. can we rewind to the part where tumblr has a regular problem with bone stealing scandals
i've searched every combination of words imaginable and i still can't find that gif of the german star trek parody where gay spock is quickly drinking coffee and smoking freaking out PLEASE send it to me i need it urgently
matched set
Not much focus on rehabilitation
This seems like a good time to mention the Prisoners Literature Project and Inside Books Project. Both of these organizations send free books to incarcerated people, and are always looking for donations - both books and money -and volunteers! (Prisoners literature project sends books everywhere but Texas - Inside Books project is just Texas).
[ID: Joseph Hill (@ jaceyhill) tweeted: “Reading costs 5 cents a minute and the prisoners earn 30 cents an hour. Reading a 330 page book costs them about $20. Prisons are designed to destroy people’s humanity.”
Hill’s comments are a quote-retweet of Book Patrol (@ bookpatrol), who said: “The Cost of Reading in Prison: In West Virginia it’s 5 cents a minute bookpatrol.net/the-cost-of-re…” Attached is a photo of an incarcerated person sitting on the end of a bed leaning over an e-reader, with their head resting in their hand. In the background, one person sits on another of the many beds in the room, and another sleeps.
315 comments, 26.3K retweets, 74.9K likes.]
This week is Prison Banned Books week! And two orgs local to me are having their donations matched until Oct. 11th by the Malaprop’s Bookstore in Asheville, NC.
Asheville Prison Books, servicing the Carolinas
The Tranzmission Prison Project, servicing queer incarcerated people nation-wide
Inktober day 11 "Rest"