
No title available
taylor price
wallacepolsom
sheepfilms

blake kathryn

JVL
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almost home

tannertan36
One Nice Bug Per Day

roma★
Today's Document
ojovivo

Origami Around

Kaledo Art
Stranger Things

@theartofmadeline
AnasAbdin

Discoholic 🪩

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@qurose-art
hey do me a favor and reblog this but don't vote on it
ok i will not vote
hehehe i'm going to be a little scamp and vote anyway!
woo hoo hehe
heterosexual things you did today
awkward half wave as you crossed the street and there were cars waiting on you
sat in traffic
drank plenty of water
did a chore (any chore)
ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
charged your phone to 100
listened to Taylor Swift
texted your mom or dad, but not both
ate a fruit
exercised for longer than fifteen minutes
fuck it, poll that would've torn Tumblr apart in 2014 (animation edition)
Rise of the Guardians
Brave
Tangled
Frozen
How to Train Your Dragon
alla mingalёva
I feel these on a molecular level
Some images I made
magical girl shows really did snap when they assigned personality traits based off the members colors
pink - commander and the leader. probably really nice and sweet
blue - probably very close to pink, is either 100 iq smarty pants but shy or very tough and cool
yellow/orange - very happy and positive. can vary from being newbie of the group to be older and mature, probably known as the beautiful one
purple - mysterious, usually starts off as a rival or joins the group later, but is definitely known to the members as another MG. Probably has a softer side they don’t show
Don’t forget green - more mature and very reliable
Red - Mad
okay but this implies the existence of a lost pink teletubby. a fallen leader too painful to talk about anymore
tubby custard.
where….where are the notes……
in the tubby custard with the pink teletubby
Sun baby got jealous and beeped pink out of existence.
Guess who's rewatching merlin
Not dead, have a fancy doggo :)
ARE YOU A BIG GAY WHO LIKES FROGS?
Check out my little clay frog earrings I made!!
I made a pair one day and just thought they were neat. I also will make ones with custom expressions if you want! I'm fresh out of college and still looking for a job and these were just a fun way to help me support myself till I start working.
Plus PHROG.
These cute little froggies are hopping to get to know you! Each set of polymer clay earrings comes with one happy frog and one sad frog, but
once again for the bargain price of $6.66 i will present to you a Top 5 Childhood Misadventures: April Fool’s Edition
Presenting:
The Saga Of The Stolen Door
Ah, to be young and filled with mirth and rage.
I was 14 at the time. 14 was not a good year for me. New town, new house, new school to adjust to, and that’s not even counting the complications of being an Undiagnosed Autistic Teenager. Ah, puberty. You think you’re finally catching up, and suddenly there’s a whole parade of shiny new developmental delays to widen the gap between you and your peers. Ah, nostalgia.
Point is, it was a difficult year for me and my 2 siblings. So when April rolled around? I decided, quite magnanimously I thought, a sign of benevolence of character and all that, that we all deserved a good laugh.
Well, that is one version of events.
The second version of events is: my siblings and I had spend the year driving each other up the walls. Up the walls, through the ceiling, past the colony of attic-dwelling dust bunnies, around the rafters and straight to cracking our skulls on the new roofing tiles (terracotta).
The thing about the house we were living in at the time…it was weird. It was a weird house. Rooms with too many corners. Windows shoved in bizarre places. Odd flourishes of grandeur.
Keep reading
It occurs to me, in hindsight (glorious, alluring, unobtainable hindsight), that if one is determined to go about removing a door in this manner, there is probably a correct order in which to remove screws from a doorframe.
I did not choose that order.
Keep reading
At this point, it may have occurred to some of you that I am not much of a planner.
Keep reading
Dear Reader, let me snatch back my words. Earlier, I compared my tale to the Tragedy of Icarus. This was not wholly accurate, because you will note that Icaraus’s primary tragedy was that he was an insipid little bitch who couldn’t get his act together.
Icarus never caught himself midfall.
I, however, was a better class of person teenager. Less defeatist, perhaps. More spite-fueled, certainly. More arrogant? Conceivably. I would argue this arrogance was justified by what happened next.
I have tried several times to use language to convey the exact series of physical situations which transpired. Words fail me. I instead chose to download a series of drawing apps, spend a half hour trying and failing to find the eraser tool on each such apps, delete all the apps, and download a new app made specifically for small children ages 3 and up, which I found equally unenjoyable but marginally more usable. I then spent multiple hours drawing this series of vignettes…
Keep reading
Let us skip ahead.
(Let us skip past the tedious pushing and shoving of the Door through the hallway, past my lopsided progress fuelled by exhaustion and incandescent fury, past the door becoming entangled once or thrice in the bannister railing, past the very slight damage to the wall plaster that my mom still doesn’t know about so please don’t tell her, past the new bruises on my knobbly embittered knees and the new stain of disdain imprinted on my soul. Past all that.)
To set the scene: It is hours later. The Door, the miserable fucking Door, is safely stashed in the little attic down the hall. My mom is home. My sisters are home. I am wallowing miserably relaxing in bed, cuddled up to an ice pack that I will eventually attempt to duct tape to my foot. (This will work so successfully that I will then attempt to do the same to my knee, forgetting that leg hair exists and leading to yet further regret, wretched regret.) In short, all is at peace.
I am waiting for the eruption.
Any moment now, Claire will notice that her bedroom is missing a pertinent decorative feature. And oh, the FURY when she does. Oh, there will be screeching. There will be raging. The walls will shake. And I will laugh and laugh and laugh and LAUGH, because I am 14 and tomorrow is April Fool’s Day and I have shed my own blood and tears on this caper. I am going to laugh myself sick.
So: I am in my bedroom, waiting. I am all atingle with anticipation, giddy with adrenaline, frozen with anxiety, numb with exhaustion, and also my fingers and toes are experiencing a weird pricking sensation but that’s probably the undiagnosed anemia. My exhilaration is indistinguishable from my panic, because I know I’m about to get in trouble, but the amount of trouble hinges (heh, hinges) on the mercurial moods of a temperamental household. I am unknown and unknownable, surrounded by mysterious beings who consistently fail to appreciate a punchline. I am probably in a lot of trouble but also I am too amused and annoyed to care. I am both bored and on the verge of hyperventilating.
In short, it’s been a fairly normal Sunday.
I sit there and I wait.
And I keep waiting.
All through the early evening. All through dinner. All through after-dinner tv time. Then I go to my room and open my laptop and spend a few hours fuelling my teenage internet addiction, all the while waiting for the other shoe (steel toed, presumably) to drop. My sister has been home for hours. She is in her room, playing music too loudly. On any other day, I would yell at her to close the door
But not today. Today, I wait.
Eventually, she turns the music off. Eventually, the hall lights go out. The house descends into darkness. I sit there, in the dark, stunned beyond comprehension.
She didn’t notice. My sister didn’t notice that I stole her fucking bedroom door.
This is not altogether surprising, in hindsight. The whole thing only started because she refused to keep her door closed. I even remember thinking ‘I bet she wouldn’t even notice if….’ Sometimes I despair of being so wise and right all the time. Still, I spent a good few minutes lying in bed biting my nails out of pure fury. Because how DARE she? After all my hard work. I nibbled at a hangnail until it bled.
Eventually I got a hold of myself. Actually it was good that she hadn’t notice. More than I could have hoped for. Tomorrow was April Fool’s. Claire would wake up on April 1st and in the cold light of day realize what whimsical jest was afoot! Magnificent timing on my part, truly.
I woke up early for once in my spiteful little life, my bones creaking with mounting anticipation (and teenage growth spurts). I dressed quickly and sat in a dark corner and rubbed my hands together cartoonishly and cackled and cackled and cackled (but like. quietly. so as not to wake the house).
Oh, the villainy of it all! Ah, the waggish mischief! Truly neither Pan nor Hermes nor all the trickster spirits of yore, not fairies nor sprites nor the God of Charlatans, Bugs Bunny themself, had ever achieved such fiendish perfection, so pure a moment of jesting bliss as surely awaited me in but a minute’s time.
Any minute now.
I waited with what I assume was a smile of mischief and malice gripping my features, reduced as I was to a grinning maniac, a madman possessed by the sadistic spirit of suspense, the promise of incipient mayhem!
Nothing happened that morning.
In the rush to get to school, Claire just…didn’t notice the door. So. We went to class. We came home. We had dinner and went to bed. And still… nothing.
This went on for THREE DAYS.
I cannot describe to you the philosophical exhaustion I experienced over those long, unending days. The overwhelming psychological itchiness of arrested anticipation, the mental toll of being so excited for the climax, the cumulation, the payoff of all my pain and planning, only to recieve–NOTHING. NADA. ZILCH. AND COMPLETE SHORTAGE OF FUCKS GIVEN. She didn’t notice the door. Specifically, its absence. Hah.
Finally–finally–on the third day I rose again, exhausted, fatigued, a torn plastic bag adrift in the breeze, a worn whoppie cushion deflated into a piteous punctured balloon. Another day found me defeated–by school, by puberty, by family dysfunction and the powerlessness of youth. And the one glittering purpose in my life, vanishing like a flame dying in cold wind. Not a glimmer left in my eyes. All my hopes, all my joy, my every raison d'etre, carved and thrown like a spear towards this one shining moment, all my happinesses pinned to this one denouncement of bliss–and always, always, the universe conspires to defeat hope, to drain away joy, to siphon off all sweet promise out of every golden bleeding day.
Well.
Actually none of that it true. By the third day I had completely forgotten about the door.
Honestly I was bored of the entire thing. I was busy reading webcomics when it finally happened–when it came.
The SCREAM.
(final chapter coming soon, tip me or whatever)
I made a mouse!!
Just picked up a needle felting kit a few days ago and I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!! JUST LOOK AT THIS LITTLE GUY! I made him as a birthday present for my mausritter GM and am very pleased with how it turned out. Expect more needle felting in the future because I'm officially obsessed.
The creature stalks about in the mists at the edge of town.
No one knows where it comes from, or where it disappears to when the morning light bleeds from the east.
It wanders and watches, eyes trailing the red lights of cars and watching as we put ourselves to bed one extinguished window at a time.
Some people say it looks at our sprawling city in the same way we look at the stars.
I say it watches us like a child watches ants.
Mushishi is a great show.
Frog earrings coming to an etsy near you!!!
@worm-in-a-cloak relevant. The All-Worm sees into your soul and judges your sins. He thinks that one time you did graffiti of a bird was sick, and loves your art style. ❤
Hilda, Alphur, Twig out for a walk in the woods. I've been watching season two and it is FANTASTIC!!