JBB: An Artblog!
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Not today Justin
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$LAYYYTER
Cosmic Funnies
art blog(derogatory)
#extradirty
Xuebing Du
shark vs the universe
JVL
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styofa doing anything
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
AnasAbdin
izzy's playlists!
h
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Andulka
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
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seen from United States
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@sugaredsundrop
Polycule but it’s just two people in a romantic relationship with each other and their third who’s pretty obviously aroace but also somehow so deeply intertwined in their lives that it’d just be wrong to not count them as involved. Is this anything.
Now I know what some of you are thinking here. But green hoodie is the aroace third partner.
Also this is a deeply adorable series called "My Love Story"
Andrew Garfield talks to Elmo about grief and the passing of his mother
You’re a regular office worker born with the ability to “see” how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1, while a skilled soldier with a firearm may score a 7. Today, you notice the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10.
You decide it’s best to find out what you can about this person. Cautiously, you approach his desk. He’s a handsome man, tall, but with a disarming smile. How could such a friendly guy with such cute, dorky glasses be dangerous?
You extend your hand. “I noticed you’re new here. What’s your name?”
He shakes your hand warmly. His gaze is piercing, as if he’s looking right through you. “The name’s Clark,” he says. “So, how long have you worked for the Daily Planet?”
This one wins.
It’s been a few weeks, and one of Clark’s friends shows up. She’s pretty and all, enough muscle that she must work out. First thought would be that she should be maybe a 6.
Clark’s introducing her around. “This is my good friend, Diana, she’s in from out of town.”
You blink, and take a step back in fear. You’ve never seen an 11 before.
The day Bruce Wayne shows up for his long promised interview with Lois Lane, you can’t help it, the mug your holding drops from your fingers and sends a shock of hot coffee and ceramic shards across the floor.
Clark stops a few feet away and squints at you worriedly from behind those ridiculous glasses you’re 99% sure he doesn’t actually need, and asks tentatively, “Everything all right?”
You ignore him in favor of staring at the inky dark numerals hovering over the beaming fool gesticulating some fantastic yacht story for a gaggle of secretaries and minor columnists.
That’s it. Your gift has officially gone haywire. There is no other explanation. Because there is absolutely no way that Brucie Wayne is a 10.
At this point, you’ve seen it all. Miled manner reporters and billionaires at a 10 and a model-like woman at 11. You were really starting to doubt your power. The day you really stopped believeing in it was when Bruce Wayne came for another visit, and this time with a kid. The kid couldn’t be more than 10 years old, a bit on the short side.
He was an 8.
The day you started believing in it again was when you saw on tv the formation of something called the justice league.
There were those same numbers over superman, batman, wonder woman and robin. That’s when you put two and two together. You wonder how nobody at the daily planet noticed that Clarke was Superman with glasses. You wonder why you didn’t notice. You wonder why nobody put two and two together that Diana Prince and Wonder Woman looked exactly the same. You look in the mirror as the realization hit you and you see your own number change from a 3 to a 9.
IT GOT BETTER
Despite this, you go about your life. You don’t talk to Clark – Superman? – and kept out of his way. His girlfriend Lois Lane – she was a five when you first met, but now she’s a nine just like you – tries to get you to interview Bruce Wayne, but you refuse. You meet other people in Clark’s group of friends with high numbers. The daughter of the police commissioner from Gotham. The forensic scientist from Central City. More and more people to avoid and worry about.
Meanwhile, your paranoia gets to you. You start working out. Training in self defense. Studying the Justice League, trying to find its members. Finding out all their identities so you can be ready.
One day you wake up with a ten above your head.
That day you get a call. You recognize the area code. Gotham. Your heart is in your throat. You should throw the phone away, run. They’ve found you. You’re doomed. You might be a ten, but you can’t beat them all.
You pick up the phone anyways.
“Hello?”
“Hey, this is Clark Kent. I was wondering if we could talk.”
Your mouth goes dry. “About what?”
Clark’s voice goes quiet. “Well. About the Justice League.”
You stiffen in your seat. Your adrenaline kicks in, and your eyes dart around the room. You can hang up, pack, grab a plane ticket to wherever and disappear. Your passport hasn’t expired, and you’ve been talking to Perry White about a vacation anyways. You could say it’s a family emergency and never come back.
But they’d find you. You know they’d find you. They’re goddamned superheroes. They can carry buildings. They could probably manage finding you.
“Hello?” Clark’s voice returns, tinged with concern, and suddenly you stop. Calm down. They’re the good guys. At least they’re supposed to be.
“Yeah, sorry, just a little shocked you–”
“Caught up to you?” Clark asked. He laughed a little, but it wasn’t teasing. His voice had his regular ease, the same casual tone he would employ to talk about the weather in the break room. “Yeah. Lois noticed your odd behavior, actually. We didn’t realize it was linked to the League until you refused to interview Bruce, and then we knew something was up.”
“Speaking of Bruce Wayne, are you using his phone? Your area code is Gotham, not Metropolis.”
Clark laughed. “Damn. Lois wasn’t kidding when she said you were the best investigator working for the Daily Planet.”
“I just notice things is all.” You laughed nervously. You still can’t shake your general unease. This guy could kill you without any effort. You’re no match for him, or for any of his friends for that matter. Hell, Batman didn’t even have powers and he’d still fuck you up.
“Yeah, and that’s a skill we could use around here. Would you like to talk about joining? Bruce can send you a car, bring you here–”
“No,” you say, sharper than you intended. “Sorry. I’d rather meet in public, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course. Lunch or coffee? It’s still early, but it’s a bit easier to cram all of us in a restaurant than a coffee shop.”
“Lunch, I guess. And no superhero stuff.”
Clark pauses, then sighs sadly. You’ve heard this sadness before in rare amounts. When bad things happened and fear and greed overtook people, he’d always frown and sigh, like someone watching their best friend self destruct, unable to help or save them. “You’re afraid of us. Aren’t you?” His voice is concerned and hushed.
A pang of guilt starts to replace the fear. “You can throw around buildings like a sack of potatoes, Clark. Your friend is powerful on an impossible level, Bruce’s kid is a fucking eight–”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Clark said, the sadness disappearing. “You have a number system for us?”
“Look, it’s a whole thing. I’ll talk about it over lunch.” You grab your laptop bag. “Where are we meeting?”
Clark said something to someone else. “Got any restaurant ideas? They want lunch.”
Bruce Wayne – you’ve heard enough interviews to recognize his voice – said, “Saffron’s pretty good.”
“Jesus,” someone else said. You’ve heard the voice, but you couldn’t place it. “I keep on forgetting you’re rich.”
“You don’t think it’s a little much, Bruce? The pay at Daily Planet is good but not that good,” said Clark.
“I’ll cover their tab.”
“Okay…” Clark returned to the call. “Saffron, in…thirty minutes? You’re downtown, right?”
“You can get a table to Saffron in thirty minutes?” said the strange voice. “Boy, am I glad I made friends with you guys.”
“Yeah, that works.” You’re a bit hesitant, but you swallow your nerves. At least for now. Your thoughts about threat levels made you forget that Clark is a decent guy. All you could do is hope that he thinks you’re decent, too. “See you then.”
“See you then. Be safe. Bye.” Clark hangs up, and you’re left in your room. The worry is starting to turn into something different. Excitement.
You shove the phone into your pocket, grab your keys, and head out the door. You’re so full of restless energy you walk the whole way there. Once you arrive, you catch your reflection in the mirror and notice that you’re starting to suit that ten above your head.
KEEP GOING!!!!!!!
The hostess takes you to a hidden corner of the restaurant. It’s mostly empty, as though it’s only just opened. Sitting at a long table, chatting politely, was the Justice League.
They aren’t wearing masks or uniforms, no bright colors and costumes. Clark Kent is in his usual office wear, Bruce Wayne is wearing a tailored suit, Diana Prince dons a nice blue dress, and Oliver Queen wears a nice button down. You don’t recognize two of them – a twenty something in jeans and a hoodie, a man in a green shirt, and a burly guy in a baggy t-shirt and old jeans who looks like he had just washed up from the sea. All of them, aside from Diana, are tens, of course.
Clark Kent stands, shakes your hand when you come in. “Glad to see you made it.” He introduces you to the others, and they all shake your hand quite happily and greet you like a friend. You learn that the guy in the hoodie is Barry Allen, the dude in green is Hal Jordan, and the beach dude is Arthur Curry. Waitresses, all ones, twos, and threes, come in with drinks, and one plops a mug of coffee in front of you, along with a small menu. Clark Kent gives you a knowing gaze.
Once the waitresses clear out, Bruce sits up straight. “Clark, would you rather I do the honors?” His silver watch glitters in the light from the windows.
“No, no, Bruce,” Clark says, setting down his glass of water. “I think it’s best if I ask them myself.”
Within a moment, you piece it together. “You want me to join the Justice League?”
Clark Kent cracks a smile. “How’d you guess?”
“You call me out of the blue, mention the Justice League, invite me to Bruce Wayne’s place, and then here, where you introduce me to a group of people who all look strikingly similar to the members of the Justice League.” You take a sip of coffee. “Subtlety is hardly your strong suit.”
Barry Allen laughed. “They got you there on that one.”
“Well, you’re right. At first Bruce wanted to handle the situation himself,” – you’d rather not think about what handle was a euphemism for – “but I insisted we do some more digging. We did, and what we found was…surprising. To say the least.”
You look at him oddly. You aren’t normal – no one else saw numbers floating above people’s heads – but you weren’t surprising. Your parents were the only ones who knew about your ability, and they’re long gone. You’ve got no checkered past, no odd history–
“You have powers.” Clark’s voice was clearly impressed.
“How did you find out about that?” The fear comes back, forming a knot in your stomach. “I’ve never told anyone else about it.”
“It’s not hard to notice,” Barry Allen says in between sips of soda. “Most of the information we got we got from Lois after she’s hung out with you.”
“I’ve never her told her anything about the numbers, though.”
Oliver Queen sits up, flashing you a confused look. “Numbers?”
Okay, something’s not right here. “The number I see over everyone’s heads,” you say, keeping your voice low. “It ties into how dangerous everyone is. Usually it’s just a one or two, maybe a three or four or five if they’ve got some kind of training or if they work out or whatever. Almost everyone at this table has a ten.”
“Almost?” Diana furrows her brow.
“You have an eleven,” you add.
Diana nods, smiling with a bit of pride and making an “I told you so” face to Bruce Wayne, who rolls his eyes. Oliver Queen clears his throat as Bruce and Hal pass him a couple bills.
“Ignore them,” Barry says, rolling his eyes at the three of them. “What you said was interesting – I might have to ask you a few questions on that later – but it wasn’t what I found. Remember the sensory and memory study you did when you were ten?”
You do remember it. Your parents were contacted by a scientist friend of theirs who needed kids to run a study on memory and stimuli. You remember it clearly. The large sterile room, the tests, the person conducting them, a handsome woman with a four above her head, the questions, the smell of latex gloves and fresh bleach. But you don’t remember the results. You were never told the results, other than that they were good, though with a test like that it was hard to say.
“Well, I found the tests. And they were superhuman.”
Oh shit this is the best one!
Please please please keep it going!
“Wait…” You couldn’t even process something that ridiculous at first. “My best friend all through high school was in that trial too, that’s how we met. She was a lot of things, but superhuman wasn’t one of them.”
Barry reached in his pocket and pulled out a pocket sized composition notebook and paged through it.
“What was the name?” Oliver demanded as you, and everybody else at the table watched Barry, but you were the only one who didn’t know what he was doing.
“Uh… oh! Me? Sorry. Her name was Irene. Irene Schumer. Why?”
Barry went back a page and then looked up from the book at all of the heroes around him and shook his head sadly.
“When did you last talk to Irene?” Diana asked gently. Too gently. Gentle to the point that you knew something terrible was up.
There was a tightness in your chest as you tried to remember. I guess it had been a while, but not a lifetime ago. You still saw her spouse posting stuff on Facebook with their kid. But now that you thought about it, Irene was always tagged in the picture, but not in them… “It’s been a few years. Maybe… nine?”
After they all exchanged a glance, Bruce said solomnly, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we have it on good authority that Irene has been killed.”
Shit.
Suddenly the room seemed to dim and all of the Justice Leauge were looking at you, Clark even leaned towards you as if he expected you to break right there. But you had more tact than that.
“You have it on good authority? What the hell does that even mean, Mr. Wayne? Who’s authority is good?”
Clark stopped Bruce from talking and slowly explained, “Once we found out about the… nature… of the experiment, we started trying to track down the results and the participants. Something that Barry found out… well… every year, one person from the trial was killed.”
“Sorry to interject,” Hal suddenly spoke.
That was the first time you actually paid attention to him. His features were nearly as strong as Diana’s and Clark’s, but his hair was much more… shaggy?
“But we thought that maybe the reason they were being killed was because of how dangerous the testers determined them to be-“
He stopped when you snorted.
“Impossible,” you insisted, “Irene was the only fully grown adult I’ve seen with a 1 above her head. I’ve had a three as long as I can remember until recently.”
“Until recently?” Diana repeated.
Oops. Probably best to leave out the fact you were a ten right now.
“Maybe,” Clark said when he saw you didn’t want to answer, “it has something to do with the type of power it is.”
Clark seemed to be trying to put you at ease more than anybody else sitting at the table.
“A person with superhuman abilities or whatever can’t give off a one. That’s… insane,” you started arguing.
“Unless her power was deception,” Oliver muttered. He looked at Barry and asked, “how many people are left from that experiment that haven’t died, disappeared, or become incompacitated?”
He didn’t even look at the book before saying “just one”
Every eye fell to you again.
It was like someone poured something hot over your head. Your scalp burned and tingled and then it trickled down your neck and spine and made your shoulders ache until your arms tensed. You had to decide if you believed them or not. They were supposed to be the good guys, Clark seemed to think you two were friends, but some of the stuff they were saying was… ridiculous. Impossible. Inconceivable. Unbelievable. Just… You picked your coffee up and took a drink. To mask everything you were thinking.
You set it down and tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Might need something stronger.”
That pulled a few smirks out of some.
“Okay,” you sighed, “let’s say-hypothetically- I believe you and I’m willing to go along. What is… I mean, what do you want… what are you gonna do about it?”
“Well, we started with meeting up with you for lunch to see if you’d be interested in joining us. Joining our little team.”
You examined all of them. Perfect, poised, powerful, with some kind of super power- besides Bruce (you assume). You had none of that. You had a history of hapkido, a green belt in tae kwon do, and saw floating numbers above peoples heads. That was hardly as impressive as anyone else at the table.
“Why would you want me to?” You finally asked. “It doesn’t make sense. I’m not a hero. I can’t throw buildings, or fly, I’m not bulletproof, at all. That’s not a… liability? Or a bad idea?”
“None of us think so,” Bruce Wayne leaned forward.
“Mr. Wayne-“
“-Bruce,” He corrected without making much noise.
“Bruce. What do you think I have that somebody else doesn’t have?”
It was a while before he said, “Skill. Spirit. Talent. But more importantly, a calling to be part of our team.”
Destiny.
The word your grandmother had said to you everyday since your parents died until her death echoed in your head. Everything leads to your destiny, but you have to know when you’ve reached it. Was this is? Did you reach it?
“So,” Bruce said abruptly, “What do you say?”
You paused for a moment, your eyes drifting back down to the coffee on the table. What did you say? If you accepted their proposal — if this wasn’t just one big prank — what then? What did they expect you to do? What did you really have to offer? Nothing like this ever came for free, without consequence. What were you going to have to give up?
You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Glancing around, you could see that everybody’s eyes were trained on you expectantly. They were waiting.
Where had your confidence gone?
“I-” Your throat caught on the words. Not a good sign. You tried again, much more successful this time. “I’m going to have to think about it.” You could practically feel the whole table let out bated breaths. Disappointment and something else rang through the air like a gong, reverberating inside your skull.
“I understand,” Clark Kent, a man you’d known for over a year now, nodded as he sought to relieve the tension in the air. “It’s a big decision to make. I trust that you’ll make the best one.”
“Yeah,” Barry agreed. “I mean, my entire life changed the day I decided to become the Flash.” Your attention — and your head — snapped in his direction. So that was who he was? Your realization must have been clear, as he had made eye contact right after saying it with an upturning of the corners of his mouth that read something like: Oops… Well, too late now.
Diana spoke next, “Yes. The life of a hero is very different from that which you have known so far. You must make this choice for yourself.” Sincerity breached her face as she leaned slightly forward in your direction. “But I firmly believe this — the Justice League, with us — is where you belong.”
Your eyes roamed around the table at everybody who had not yet spoken, taking in the malcontent clear on many of their faces. Guilt pinged in your brain against your will. No, you weren’t allowed to feel guilty. You had as much of a right to deny their offer just as you did to accept it. Besides, you didn’t even refuse yet, just extended the deadline.
You didn’t fail to notice Hal, Bruce, and Oliver’s silence, but right now the anxiety latching onto you was more concerning. Discomfort was racing up your spine and you couldn’t help but be reminded of the values that floated up above everybody’s heads; By agreeing to meet this group of people, you had knowingly put yourself in more danger than you had ever been in before. You rose to your feet and addressed the table once more.
“Thank you for your offer. As you understand, there is a huge choice in front of me and I need time to consider it more.” You nodded at them, receiving a few nods in return. “I will contact you with my answer soon, after I think about it.” You glanced at the two that you knew how to talk to — Clark and Bruce, of which the former was probably the best option — before turning away and taking careful, measured steps past the empty tables in this section of the restaurant.
As you approached an archway that led to a busier part of the restaurant, someone — was that Oliver? — spoke up. “Wait a second, we’re really just going to let them go? Just like this? They know our identities, you can’t tell me that’s not dangerous.”
A different voice this time, one you couldn’t quite make out. “Why wouldn’t they accept? This is a chance of a lifetime and-”
The words faded into obscurity as you got closer to the entryway.
There was so much for you to think about, so much for you to consider. What kind of changes would there need to be if you accepted? What about your friends and family? What would this mean for them? How much would you need to lie to them about this? What would happen if you told the truth? Would they be safe? How much danger would be in store for you? How much danger was already in your life? Your mind wandered to the notebook that Barry carried; Obviously, there was already a lot in store for you if everybody else was-
Your thoughts wandered to Irene. Somebody that you had known for so long and now she was dead. What of the others on that list? All of them were dead too. All of them were kids that you had met back when you were ten. Just kids. And to think that they had been dragged into this just because of something their parents signed them up for? That they were just kids when they were condemned to this fate? When they were sentenced to death? That didn’t settle right with you.
Your feet never carried you any closer to the entrance. Injustice and anger and courage welled up inside of you, replacing the fear and anxiety and uncertainty that had been there before. This was the chance of a lifetime, something that would most likely carry you toward your destiny; you couldn’t just walk away now. Especially when chances were that you were the next target of whoever was behind this. You had to do something, if not for yourself then for all of the others that didn’t have the opportunity to protect themselves. Something was stirring inside you that made you turn in the other direction.
Somebody must have heard your brisk walk back toward the table, because all of them, all of these superheroes, were looking at the doorway when you came through. Fear no longer rose up when you saw these people again; you were a ten too, just as dangerous as almost all of them. You could handle yourself. This was what you were meant to be doing with your life, you could feel it. You stood at the end of the oblong table, next to where you had sat previously, and took a deep breath. Determination coursed through your veins and when you opened your mouth, you spoke the words that changed the course of your entire life:
“Screw this whole ‘thinking about it’ thing… I’m in.”
Arriving at the watchtower was an experience that I will never forget mostly funded by the enigmatic “Brucie Wayne’s” wealth. You wonder if how much of his number is derived from this wealth. Or if it purely his skills and intellect granting a ordinary human such a high number.
“This is the control room where league members are coordinated around then globe” explained Clark.
“Given the fact that I have no outstanding combat abilities this is were I would be assigned?” you ask.
i bet there were guys in the 1800s who were super fucking Reddit about everything, but no one had the right word yet for why those guys were so annoying. so they just had to wonder
Der lästige Kavalier (The Annoying Gentleman), by Berthold Woltze, 1874.
that is a "hello darkness my old friend" face if I ever saw one.
Cybersmith off his shits
keep in mind also that this girl is
A. A teenager, since her hair is almost fully down (the longer skirt and her traveling alone make me think maybe 14-15), and
B. In mourning, as evidenced by her entirely matte and unornamented black dress, gloves, and hat
so this guy is pestering a young girl who's just lost someone close to her, in absence of clear social cues meant to convey exactly that
I recently saw it pointed out elseTumblr that, a remarkably easy detail to miss, she is going for her hatpin. The clear social cues are about to escalate.
I for one think that is very valid of her and that hatpinning That Guy should still be considered a socially acceptable and perhaps even laudable option.
I recently watched a really good video about this:
“He fell onto my hat pin. He fell onto my hat pin ten times.”
You know the Grimm version of Snow White makes more sense than most versions if only because in that version Snow White was like 7 years old.
Like imagine you find a 7 year old in the woods and she’s like my mom is gonna kill me because I’m prettier than her and she’s not kidding. You know this queen is that sort of person. So you and your roommates adopt the kid and tell her don’t talk to strangers. And she keeps talking to strangers and getting poison combs stuck in her hair and whatnot.
Like yeah that’s kinda stupid but also she’s seven. She likes apples.
Also imagine it from the hunter’s perspective. The queen tells you this bitch is prettier than me I need you to take her out in the woods and kill her. And then you see who you’re supposed to kill and it’s a 2nd grader. Like how are you supposed to react to that sort of situation? Kill a human child? No. Because you’re not a brainless evil minion you’re just some guy dealing with a cartoonishly evil monarch. Of course you let her go.
Bad look for the Prince of course. Even if she did age while she was in that glass case. He saw a dead woman and just decided to keep her. And once she stopped being dead he was like we’re married now
He did cause the evil queen to dance to death in red hot shoes though. That was kinda cool.
With the acknowledgement that I'm grasping at straws, is it ever directly confirmed that the Prince wasn't also 7?
See, I think that still works.
You are the guardsman assigned to protect the eight-year-old Prince. You are currently in the middle of the forest because he absolutely had his heart set on "going hunting", and the royal second-grader should definitely not be traipsing around the woods on his own. You let him go a little on ahead and he comes running back talking about how there's a dead girl in the clearing and there's no-one else around and he wants to take her home because she's really pretty, Hans, and she's all alone!
You let him drag you to said clearing and okay, that is one angelic-looking dead child alright, and on the one hand the quality of her clothes and the craftsmanship on the coffin (who builds a see-through coffin?) speak to potential Consequences if you simply carry her off, but also for the amount of vines that have grown on the coffin she looks extraordinarily un-decayed, so you should probably get the court alchemist's opinion on that, and there's no way he's going to come all the way out here in his embroidered velvet curly-shoes. And also this kid is technically assigned by God as your natural superior, or something.
So fine. You hoist the coffin onto your shoulder (it's not like the Prince can do it. He's eight.) and head back toward the castle, Prince chattering blithely all the way. And then you turn your ankle on a rock and suddenly there's a thump and a cough and a lot of shouting from inside the coffin and you have now become a key player in a tense political incident with the next kingdom over.
You should probably ask for a raise.
WAIT NO THIS IS GLORIOUS
I have the most wonderful watercolor fairytale movie playing in my head right now from this interpretation, well done all.
Wait wait wait. Hear me out.
After letting Snow White go, the huntsman decides he'd better skip town and moves to the next kingdom over. And he sees that the royal guard is hiring and what the hell, being part of the royal household might be an extra layer of protection from the queen back home.
So he's out in the woods with the Prince that day and dead girl in a glass coffin happens. And look maybe normally he'd leave this the fuck alone but uh. That's definitely Snow White.
This man cannot get away from the Story.
one of the most enlightening realizations ive had was finding out that non-24 hour circadian rhythm people were a pretty large group and most of us have oddly similar cycles of usually around 28hr internal "days" and this masquerades as "insomnia" but if allowed to sleep and wake naturally we will just advance forward through time an extra 2-4 hours a day at a relatively stable pace. we can't go to school or jobs or even run errands on normal schedules without massive pharmacological and behavioral intervention. most of the people who have been diagnosed or figured it out themselves will report horrific, life-ruining disruption in their professional lives and terrible health from accrued lack of sleep. this disorder is most common in vision-impaired people which seems to suggest it's related to light cues. anyway just thinking about this as extremely loud yard work woke me up at 8am for the second day in a row
lot of people reblogging this identifying themselves in it so i wanted to give you a link to a more detailed desription of Non-24-Hour Sleep-Wake Disorder, and mention theres a similar disorder called Delayed Sleep Phase disorder where you are on a regular 24 hour cycle but you naturally get sleepy around 3-4am every day and wake up around 10am-12pm (roughly). as far as i can tell, despite the widespread nature of both these disorders, its basically impossible to get diagnosed bvecause sleep medicine is probably the single most useless specialty and if you dont have sleep apnea they dont want to hear about it.
this got 14k because Tumblr is absolutely a self-selected population of people with the worst sleep disorders you can possibly imagine
I have found no one else with my particular version of this, but I have what seems to be a Seasonally Delayed Sleep Phase.
Most of the year, I'm a pretty natural "bed by 11, up at 7" type.
From about November til March, I'm "bed at 5am, up at 2pm."
Being in academia helps because I get winter break. This is the first semester I'm teaching evening classes, and I'm curious to see whether letting myself keep this sleep schedule until it ends naturally (instead of forcing myself to change it for morning classes) will circumvent my usual wave of January-February depression.
Can someone please explain to me WHY no one can accept that I knit for pleasure?? Every time someone compliments me on my knitting they ask me if I've thought about selling it. NO GOD DAMMIIT NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE A SIDE HUSTLE
It would take all the pleasure out of it.
Bring back people doing things for fun. Jesus.
When people ask me that, I usually just say “yes” and wait. Either they’re taken aback by the one word answer and don’t push it, more usually they fall into my cunning trap and ask where I sell stuff. To which I then reply, “I don’t. No one wants to pay $500 for a pair of socks.”
If they are foolish enough to continue their questioning, they are subjected to my rant about the historical devaluation of textile labour, analysis of the time put into each garment I make and its retail cost at a fair wage, and the methods by which fast fashion has trained consumers to devalue handmade goods even more than was the case historically when labour was cheap but materials were expensive. Sometimes I even manage to squeeze in a few words about the problems with the puritanical notion of productivity, how it’s been further bastardised by capitalism, and how attempts to monetise every facet of one’s life results in burnout and despair. Though by the time I’ve warmed up to that they’ve usually fled in terror from the short bearded king who’s gone on such a terrifying rant while aggressively knitting a sock at them.
actually i think graduates of a university should have access to the library databases forever and ever amen
I think knowledge should be free and everyone should have quick, easy access to researches in all fields to advance human science and literacy.
y’all here coming?
answering questions: 1. yes you can be a crow who helps us hunt or a husky we accept as our own, actually you can be any animal that's ok 2. yes you can have wings and mystical/unnatural fur colors but we have to be able to disguise when humans see us so make sure you can hide them or maybe they only come out sometimes like on new moons or when it snows 3. every pack needs pups so if you want to be a baby that's okay. we just need to be sure we have enough volunteers to babysit too while we're hunting so let's try to maintain a 1:10 babysitter-pup ratio if possible <3 4. dw if you live far away my mom says we can all have a sleepover at my house later
That's awesome.
It might also be the clearest evidence I've ever seen for a theory I read a while back that a lot of American Southern accents are Scottish and Irish accents that have been slowed down.
hate being at work. my coworker was like "I bought a neck thing for my neck pain on amazon the other day. it's probably a scam lol" and I couldn't even say "well just hope it's not radioactive" because then everyone would look at me weird and I'd launch into a rant about the negative-ion producing pens available for sale on amazon and temu and aliexpress that are just radioactive, and I'd think that my little ramble was really cool and interesting but nobody else would and they'd just remember I bombed the conversation with a complete non-sequitur.
wait what no this is absolutely the most interesting thing you could add to this conversation. im catching you by the water cooler and asking for more information
woe! 13 minutes of radioactive bullshit be upon ye!!
Fandom gift exchanges (fic & art) are such a beautiful thing to me. You do a normal gift exchange and it's like, "Ok $20 spending limit."
Meanwhile we're over here giving each other art and writing that, professionally commissioned, would cost hundreds of dollars. And that's just fine. It's good. We don't care, because it's about the love.
And that's beautiful.
ITHACA, N.Y. — The Museum of the Earth, one of the last natural history museums in Upstate New York, faces an imminent threat of foreclosure
If you have ever been tempted by a Paleozoic Pal, like a a stuffed trilobite or a full size eurypterid body pillow, now's the time to buy one, before they and a really lovely little museum are gone for good 😭😭😭
Paleozoic Pals™ Paleozoic Pals™ are the Paleontological Research Institution’s line of plush fossils. The Paleozoic is the era before dinosa
This was the museum I went to often in my childhood. I'm no longer able to visit unless I visit family, but this place holds a special place in my heart.
As stated in the article, they hold around 7 million artifacts- many of which are orphaned fossils, with the museum taking in collections that otherwise would have been trashed.
Please consider buying a Paleozoic Pal, but I'll also leave a direct donation link as well.
THE GIANT EURYPTERID BODY PILLOW IS BACK IN STOCK
It's really gratifying to see people sharing this and commenting about buying/donating; the Museum of the Earth really is a gem and the Paleontological Research Institution (PRI) that runs it does critical work in collecting and preserving "orphan" fossil collections. To explain/expand on a couple things, the financial straits they're in started a couple years ago when a $30 million donation fell through for reasons unknown. They severely restructured and downsized in 2023 to keep things going (including dramatically reducing staff and re-homing about 70 animal ambassadors from the Cayuga Nature Center which is also run by PRI, to ensure the animals got consistent care), but they are now in a critical spot with the mortgage and may be foreclosed on soon.
If you're at all in the Finger Lakes area, I recommend dropping in on a weekend - they've got an incredible mastodon skeleton, a new Blaschka glass specimen exhibit, and a full right whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling; they do Fossil ID Saturdays where you can bring in what you've found and get an expert opinion, and they do mask-required days regularly as well.
If you got enough money to live happily and comfortably for the rest of your life, but everyone who saw you immediately knew what fandom you are in and understood what that means, would you take it?
i was thinking it was funny how sometimes japanese "soft drinks" aren't carbonated and i go to wikipedia for "soft drinks" and what does it say
A soft drink is any water-based flavored drink, usually but not necessarily carbonated, and typically including added sweetener. Soft drinks are called "soft" in contrast with "hard" alcoholic drinks.
I always thought "soft drink" was in comparison to a "hard drink" (alcoholic)
HOLD UP HOW WAS I NOT AWARE OF THIS
was gonna leave my comment in the tags but tbh i’m silent enough about this as it is.
seeing stuff like this is so upsetting because these terms were well known and widespread in the ace community but because of exclusionists many people stopped using terms like this because they felt uncomfortable and unsafe.
i loved these terms when i was in highschool, i loved the feeling of community, but i lost that because i didn’t feel comfortable openly and proudly calling myself asexual.
they’ve hurt so many people and damaged our community badly and i will never forgive them for that. we deserve to use our own terminology and feel safe within our community.
sometimes i notice i haven’t seen “grace” (grey-ace) in a while and consequently wonder if i made it up.
I remember ppl - even other ace ppl - saying the card suit thing was “cringey” and “straight ppl aren’t gonna take us seriously” (sounds familiar?) So i guess the community wound up abandoning it. We were also having severe issues at the time with aces being stereotyped as “childish/immature” for associating things like cake, dragons, and space with asexuality, plus in general as most aces just don’t “get” allosexual things in media and irl. We were starting to be viewed as ignorant, virginal, childish, losers, etc. I haven’t seen an ace-cake thing in a good while now.
This was the infancy of exclusionary influence on us. I didn’t realize it did more damage than just closeting us. Whole symbols and terms have been lost. Community has been lost.
I remember three-four years ago I got myself into the ace community on Insta, and I came across these terms. People in these circles would talk about cake, space, dragons, and the black ring on the middle finger. Then, a year or two later, ace content fizzled out (I thought it was Insta’s algorithm figuring out that I knew all this and didn’t bring me the old stuff) and young aces had no idea what any of these were - including the black ring. Finding out young aces had no idea what the black ring meant nearly snapped my heart in two - I proudly wore the black ring, I drew characters with it, and it was my quiet way of communicating to others what my sexuality was. I was baffled at the lack of knowledge - and it turns out that exclusionists got their hands into our community and snuffed us out.
Anyways, we need to bring this back. I thought the card suite thing was cool, it taught people the different ways people can experience attraction, I loved making jokes about preferring cake, I loved wearing the black ring and talking about it with my fellow queer people at my highschool QSA club.
I’m sorry, people don’t know about the cake or ring anymore? I remember being welcomed with spams of cake gifs, photos, and MS Paint drawings. I also distinctly remember that the block solo ring in the midle was meant as reference to the Ace of Spades (black, solo, middle of card). Only thing I didn’t know was that other aces could represent a more refined nuance. Let’s see if we can get this all rolling again.
Welcome to anyone who is interested in helping with the culture revival.
This is the exact reason I started my #ace positive and #aro positive tags. I remember learning about asexuality and thinking it was cool, but not for me (yet). I remember ace visibility day where people would post selfies with an ace card to signify their orientation like in the original post. I remember going through the tag and following every ace blog I could find, turning notifications on and scrolling through their blogs endlessly to learn more about it. I haven’t gotten a notification for any of those blogs in ages.
Going through all those blogs and seeing validation, learning more things about my newfound orientation was so incredibly as a questioning and unsure 15 year old. It’s devastating to me that this community has fallen quiet so much. So I started my tags, hoping to spread some more positivity and maybe inform people. This community is full of incredible people and the fact that so little of them remain, it heartbreaking.
Check out my tags if you ever need to. Maybe I’ll add more tags to my list to do whatever I can in support
