it is a start ÖuÖ
(a bit belated) EDIT: part 2 here
(deltarune)

JBB: An Artblog!

ellievsbear
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
h

Discoholic 🪩

Andulka
Acquired Stardust
taylor price

tannertan36
todays bird
hello vonnie

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Keni
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DEAR READER
ojovivo
Jules of Nature
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@tri-sparks
it is a start ÖuÖ
(a bit belated) EDIT: part 2 here
(deltarune)
It's my headcanon that Addisons glow like digital adds and Spamton lost his glow during his messed up puppet transformation.
whatever man just take my au slop
neurotic
He's figured it out
The ol’ jitterbug
spamton & tennas tv time ???
Will's partialism and stalled ceremorphosis
(Will is technically part mind flayer already)
I'm writing up a bigger theory post (likely my last one before Vol 2 and the finale drops) and while polishing up my mind flayer/ illithid trivia, I found some interesting stuff. Some of it seems rather obvious I guess, but I'm only noticing it now for the first time, so thought I'd share in case it was new to anyone else, too.
Firstly, when a host is infected by a mind flayer tadpole, they usually undergo the process of ceremorphosis. Ceremorphosis is the process of turning into a mind flayer, and becoming attached to the hivemind (or elder brain). Memory loss is an expected outcome of this process.
I do often think about how the origin of “he would not fucking say that” was in reference to a post which depicted Cartman SouthPark responding politely when asked for his pronouns
meme phrases are so mobile and versatile and that's really really beautiful but i'm always thinking about the first "she x on my y til i z" being "she ebbin on my neezer til i scrooge" and the first "fork found in kitchen" coming from a tweet about sehun from exo being spotted at a gay bar. like sometimes you just utterly nail it the very first time and no variation of the joke is going to be better.
EXACTLY.
a small collection
me, unloading a fitted sheet from the dryer: *squinting* what's that you've got in your mouth
fitted sheet: nothing :)))))))
me, prying open its twisted jaws: na-ah!!! give it to me RIGHT now!!
fitted sheet: *resentfully spits out a wad of 3 very damp dishtowels, a pillowcase, and a pathetically sodden washcloth*
Kudos to this post, I think of you every time I do my fucking laundry
my notes are blowing up again they must've changing something abou the tumblr ui
Download Dashboard Plus for Firefox. Take control of your Tumblr dashboard!
made stuff nicer and also added an option to explode the extra reblog menu to click through
kaiba made it real weird real fast but yami kept him in line
im glad this post is getting notes because it still makes me laugh
“kaiba my friends were kidnapped what the fuck bruh”
Kaiba is living alone in his own separate more intensely anime universe than everyone else
NOOOO THE SIX ORGASMS PERIOD HACK GOT REBLOGS DISABLED JUST AS I TRIED TO REBLOG IT whatever. I'm trying that next period.
Rescued media. Fuck it.
you need to understand that i have two sets of headcanons. there's the set of realistic headcanons based on my genuine reading of the show, and then there's me playing pretend with my dolls.
I have been thinking a lot about what a cancer diagnosis used to mean. How in the ‘80s and ‘90s, when someone was diagnosed, my parents would gently prepare me for their death. That chemo and radiation and surgery just bought time, and over the age of fifty people would sometimes just. Skip it. For cost reasons, and for quality of life reasons. My grandmother was diagnosed in her early seventies and went directly into hospice for just under a year — palliative care only. And often, after diagnosis people and their families would go away — they’d cash out retirement or sell the house and go live on a beach for six months. Or they’d pay a charlatan all their savings to buy hope. People would get diagnosed, get very sick, leave, and then we’d hear that they died.
And then, at some point, the people who left started coming back.
It was the children first. The March of Dimes and Saint Jude set up programs and my town would do spaghetti fundraisers and raffles and meal trains to support the family and send the child and one parent to a hospital in the city — and the children came home. Their hair grew back. They went back to school. We were all trained to think of them as the angelic lost and they were turning into asshole teens right in front of our eyes. What a miracle, what a gift, how lucky we are that the odds for several children are in our favor!
Adults started leaving for a specific program to treat their specific cancer at a specific hospital or a specific research group. They’d stay in that city for 6-12 months and then they’d come home. We fully expected that they were still dying — or they’d gotten one of the good cancers. What a gift this year is for them, we’d think. How lucky they are to be strong enough to ski and swim and run. And then they didn’t stop — two decades later they haven’t stopped. Not all of them, but most of them.
We bought those extra hours and months and years. We paid for time with our taxes. Scientists found ways for treatment to be less terrible, less poisonous, and a thousand times more effective.
And now, when a friend was diagnosed, the five year survival odds were 95%. My friend is alive, nearly five years later. Those kids who miraculously survived are alive. The adults who beat the odds are still alive. I grew up in a place small enough that you can see the losses. And now, the hospital in my tiny hometown can effectively treat many cancers. Most people don’t have to go away for treatment. They said we could never cure cancer, as it were, but we can cure a lot of cancers. We can diagnose a lot of cancers early enough to treat them with minor interventions. We can prevent a lot of cancers.
We could keep doing that. We could continue to fund research into other heartbreaks — into Long Covid and MCAS and psych meds with fewer side effects and dementia treatments. We could buy months and years, alleviate the suffering of our neighbors. That is what funding health research buys: time and ease.
Anyway, I’m preaching to the choir here. But it is a quiet miracle what’s happened in my lifetime.
this shit owns it's just a number go up idle game except the idle mechanic comes from you writing JavaScript to automate tasks it seems like the end goal of the game is to perfectly optimize against this little arbitrary system they've created. There's not any plot to speak of so far but even though nothing is happening people send you messages through the computer telling you to trust no one as they all have ulterior motives. Very relatable.
You don't have to know JavaScript to get started.
guys be careful. this game may look fun but it's actually a ploy to get you to learn javascript
If it makes you feel any better, he hated it too.
This is the funniest and saddest sentence I've read all week