oozey mess
if i look back, i am lost
almost home
★
ellievsbear
Sweet Seals For You, Always
RMH
One Nice Bug Per Day
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
noise dept.
Monterey Bay Aquarium
sheepfilms
Misplaced Lens Cap
AnasAbdin
$LAYYYTER
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
pixel skylines
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No title available
seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from Singapore
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@v0iddarling
it fucken WIMDY
At some point will I be banned for the crime of becoming a girl. Then wimdy shall be no more.
@voidmenace thank you! I forget to mention it much. I have been a girl for 17 months now, it’s the best and most clearly correct decision I have ever made.
I really need a feminised edit of Wimdy Fox but… I don’t think foxes have any visible secondary sex characteristics. Hmm.
oh fuck yes
Another collaboration with my friend at StartDrift, he made the beautiful composition, and I worked on the character.
The anime is so stunning, and I really need to catch up to the manga.
yes I DO live under a rock and her name is the Moon and she is always smiling but she teaches me nothing
She teaches you the peace of loving something wild without the expectation of its return.
villain going to the goon shelter to pick out a new henchman
this energetic and diabolical boy was rescued from a goon hoarding situation… he loves pulling levers, gloating, and turning cranks with great abandon. prefers to be the only goon. needs an active lair with plenty of enrichment.
now this fella comes with some baggage. his previous villain was going to have put down when he refused to perform unsedated human vivisection as a form of torture. one of our agents intercepted the execution and brought him to the goon shelter. would thrive in an environment of G or PG-rated villainry.
on the other hand, if you’re looking for something a little more… advanced… then this fine lady over here would make a great challenge for an experienced villain able to set firm boundaries. she will NOT be released to first-time villains; proof of prior henchpeople must be demonstrated before adoption approval. high prey drive. under no circumstances should she be left alone with children or small animals. must sign waiver releasing the goon shelter from responsibility if her behavior is deemed excessively depraved.
These two are pair-bonded and may only be adopted together. Up for anything, they are fiercely loyal to their employer provided their needs are met and they are permitted to hold hands. They look alarmingly similar to one another but it is undeterminable whether they are close blood relatives or lovers who choose to dress and style themselves in identical ways. Habit of finishing each other’s sentences with rhyming couplets; we have not attempted to train this out of them. Will answer to whatever names or titles you give them so long as they are complimentary and/or rhyme.
Will you help this goon find his forevil lair? He’s been returned to the goon shelter six times now but we refuse to give up on him. A vile little rat of a man, he’d be the perfect accomplice to someone willing to overlook his unfortunate heterosexuality. If gay-coding is not your style and you don’t expect it from a henchman, please consider giving this little guy a good home in your dastardly schemes.
This guy is not your typical goon. He was rescued from a high-kill shelter after being deemed unfit for henching. His deep baritone voice, his darkly handsome good looks, and his flair for the dramatic have made prospective employers pass over him time and time again, making him the longest resident of the goon shelter. But don’t judge a book by its cover—while his appearance and demeanor suggest “villain”, his real passion is taking orders and faithfully serving a master. If you’re secure in your villainry and not prone to jealousy, he may just be what it takes to turn your base into a lair.
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
Art by Milica Mastelica
do it scared. do it stupid. but most importantly, do it bitching and moaning the entire time
at some point in your life you will be boiling fruit, water, sugar, and lemon juice in a pot to make a syrup or jam. the instructions will tell you to simmer for a certain amt of time. your timer will go off and you will look at the pot and go, "hm, this doesn't look thick enough. maybe i'll let it go for another 10 minutes." this is the devil speaking. it's only so liquid right now because it is at boiling point. it will thicken when it cools down. learn from the follies of my youth and do not let this happen to you
at some point in your life you will be making a sauce or a stew in which you need to add cornstarch to thicken it. and you will prepare a slurry of starch in cold water and think "this looks like way too little starch to thicken this amount of liquid." this is the devil speaking. cornstarch instantly polymerizes at 95°C and if you add too much it will turn into an impossibly thick goop.
Brotherhood of The Orb
Necromancer that doesn’t know they’re a necromancer and thinks they’re just a really good emt
That is the funniest thing i have ever read
the thing was, she wasn’t going to be able to pass the recertification exam, and she couldn’t figure out why. annabelle studied. she practiced. she pulled out every trick and shortcut she’d learned during her two years as an EMT and none of it worked. she just – she didn’t get it. it made no sense.
“wake up,” she urged the dummy, pressing her hands to the pulse points on its wrists. “come on. what the fuck.”
“yeah, i don’t think that asking nicely is going to do the trick,” hank said, his eyebrows raised. his helmet, the special one they’d decorated for him with craft supplies from michael’s when he’d gotten promoted to firestation chief, sat askew on his head. “i can see now why they didn’t pass you.”
annabelle rolled her eyes. “it’s a psychological thing,” she said. “it’s like, you give the brain an instruction and it follows naturally. and the pulse-point thing always works. i don’t know why it’s not, like, in any of the books, but i swear to god it’s worked for me every time.”
it was true that annabelle had the best record on low body counts, which was good because she was the smallest person on the team not counting Georgie, who was a corgi. jake and lillian were always making fun of her for having been the shortest of their whole rookie class. but it hadn’t ever been a problem before; annabelle rarely had to carry anybody out, because she was good enough at getting them on their feet.
but none of that would matter if she couldn’t pass her stupid recertification exam, because they’d take her badge and she’d have to go be, like, a doctor or something.
hank blew out a long breath and sunk down to where she was kneeling on the station floor in full fire gear, giving CPR to the practice dummy, whom they called dierdre. there was a little light that went on when you’d saved its life. it had been a dull gray for an hour now.
“look, AB. i know you’re a good firefighter, and i know you know how to deliver CPR. just do it like you do it during an emergency. you’re overthinking it.”
“but this is what i do during an emergency!” annabelle cried, throwing her hands up. “i put my hands on their pulse points and i use psychological mumbo-jumbo and they just get up and walk!”
hank blinked. “…really,” he said, voice flat. “people who’ve been inhaling smoke for half an hour just … get up and walk.”
“the brain is an incredibly powerful organ,” said annabelle, shrugging. “look man, i don’t know, okay? but it works. i haven’t had to actually do CPR in like a year and a half.”
he gave her a long, quiet look and said, “well….huh,” before pushing himself back up onto his feet and frowning off into the distance. “keep practicing,” he said after a minute, and left her there.
-
hank switched her team.
“what the fuck, man,” she said, sliding into the truck next to him as the sirens went on. “i can’t get CPR on one fucking dummy and suddenly you don’t trust me to do my job without supervision?”
carl and bethany very carefully did not meet her eyes in the rearview from the backseat. bethany pulled a magazine from beneath the seat and said loudly, “look, carl, jennifer aniston and brad pitt are getting back together.”
“thank christ,” said carl. “i’ve been really worried about jen.”
hank gave annabelle the flat look that had gotten him promoted to firestation chief in the first place, the one that said i’m your dad and you don’t want to disappoint me. as always, annabelle wilted underneath it, sliding down in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. it was a difficult feat in full gear but she wanted him to know she was feeling sullen.
“i trust you completely,” hank told her, his voice a light scold. “i want to see you in action so i can help you figure out what’s going wrong with the dummies. sometimes it’s hard for the brain to accurately remember everything that happens during a crisis.”
annabelle rolled her eyes. “i told you,” she said. “it’s just – it’s the same thing every time, I’m not like, blacking out.”
“great, then i’m about to learn a cool new trick,” hank said serenely, and pulled the truck out of the lot. annabelle kept her gaze focused out of the window, watching the city pass as carl and bethany talked loudly about which celebrities were dating which other celebrities and who wore what better. she tried to swallow down the nerves that tightened her throat. maybe the dummy was right. maybe she was doing something else and didn’t remember it. maybe the last two years had been a fluke and she had no business being a firefighter. maybe she was about to get fired.
there wasn’t a fire, though the alarm was going off. instead they found a bag of smoking popcorn and the collapsed heap of a forty-five year old bachelor type, down to just his boxers and a pair of slippers with llamas on them. he had no pulse.
hank held carl and bethany back, directing them to deal with the smoke from the popcorn; annabelle he pointed toward the resident with a jerk of his chin.
she sighed, kneeling by his side. she pressed her hands flat to his heart and then dragged them across his chest and down each arm, to his wrists. with her thumbs on his pulse point, she hissed, “let’s go, man. up and at ’em. you’re not meant to die in your underwear while cooking popcorn, come on.”
she held her breath for a few moments, conscious of hank’s eyes on her, and let out a long sigh of relief when she felt his pulse jump beneath her, watched his eyes flicker. “what the fuck?” he asked, voice a croak. “what happened?”
“you gotta eat more vegetables, bud,” annabelle told him, and looped his arm over her shoulders to help him get to his feet. she was so relieved she could have wept, but instead met hank’s eyes with a challenging glare. see? she thought. i told you. “let’s get you to the ambulance.”
-
“the bad news is that you have a lot of practicing to do if you want to pass your recert,” hank said without preamble, showing up at her apartment. she didn’t think she’d ever seen him in jeans before. it was weird. “the good news is i understand your problem now.”
annabelle stepped aside, beckoning him in. “what problem?” she demanded. “it worked! you saw it work. that’s the opposite of a problem.”
hank shrugged. he handed her a trifold that he’d clearly printed off at home. it said so you think you’re a necromancer. annabelle blinked down at it, and then up at hank, and then down at the trifold again. “i … don’t understand what’s happening here,” she told him honestly.
“i’m not in the community and they’re kind of cagey, so i can’t really tell you a lot,” hank told her, stilted and visibly uncomfortable. “but i have a cousin who is, and um, i just want you to know that this doesn’t change anything. you’re still who you’ve always been and you have my complete support. we’ll figure out how to get around the recert. maybe i’ll – i can put you on admin duty to give you time to study. we’ll say it’s because of an injury.”
“hank,” annabelle said, with some urgency. “hank, this flier says the word necromancer.”
“yes,” agreed hank, looking relieved. “oh, good, you’ve heard of it already. i thought i was going to have to have the whole your body is changing talk.”
annabelle shook her head. “no, i – hank. you know that … um, you know that necromancy isn’t real, right? people can’t bring other people back from the dead. that’s crazy.”
“annabelle, not four hours ago you instructed a dead man to stand up and he did.”
“okay, he wasn’t dead, obviously. he was almost dead, at best.”
“no. he was dead.”
“i felt his pulse! it was very faint!”
“you called his pulse. no one else would have felt it, because it wasn’t there except in response to you.”
“hank, what the fuck.”
he shrugged. “read the flier,” he instructed. “and bring dierdre home with you. you’re going to have to practice a lot if you want to get recertified, considering you haven’t one time had to use any of the skills you learned the first go around.”
he bussed her temple as he went by, letting himself out of her apartment with a friendly wave. annabelle looked down at the flier in her hand with a frown. when she unfolded it, the first page said, everyone’s necromancy journey is different, but most people discover their gift by accident. have you ever brought a pet back to life? touched an elderly relatives hand and seen some of the color flood back into their face? or perhaps, more subtly, been able to keep cut flowers alive long past their purchase date?
annabelle looked at her kitchen table. she’d had the same vase of tulips on it since she moved in, three years ago. it was true they periodically started to wilt, but she usually just changed their water and they were fine, popping back up one after the other as she slid them into the fresh vase.
“well shit,” annabelle said, letting the flier fall from her hands.
(source)
thank you yes, I did need this today
Baby: taking part in the ancient and beautiful art of dance
Parent: taking part in the ancient and beautiful art of not stepping on your baby while he’s learning to dance
caleb has a diabolical praise kink—he’s always just been really good at hiding how much it affects him. he’s used to you being a brat, throwing fits and telling him how much you ‘hate’ him. and god, when you call him amazing, tell him how much you love him or hug him, telling him how proud of him you are, how much you missed him? he feels like a sick pervert with how painfully hard he gets, how the flush creeps from his neck all the way to his ears while he tries his best not to rut against you like an animal in heat. <3
From my collaboration with author Jon Acuff, here are some insights on how to finish a creative project:
A Visual Guide
i've listened to Inferno so often it's not even funny anymore
sometimes i be saying im gonna go to bed and then i dont go to bed. frequently in fact. this is because i have the heart of an optimist and the soul of a liar
