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im gonna need soooo much therapy after this

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YOUNG MAN!

There's no need to feel down,

I MEAN YOUNG THEY!

I forgot your pronoun,

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return of sharvey - the sharvening

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king shit !!!

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Really says something about the dire state of offerings for men interested in sewing their own clothes that even searching things like "interesting men's clothing patterns" brings up articles with links to four or five whole websites that primarily offer admittedly nice but practically identical patterns for making button-ups and work pants and maybe a varsity/bomber jacket if you're lucky.

(Branching out into historical costuming for everyday wear is like your one shot at variation, and even then, the ratio of men's to women's patterns on every website is frustrating to say the least.)

Patternmakers as a trans man I am begging you. Give me a little more to work with here.

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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

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My five year plan is to just see what happens

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We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

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[ID: TAZ transcript reading:

Magnus: Who are you?

Red Robe: It's not time for me to tell you that yet.

Magnus: What time will you tell me?

Red Robe: In like, ten episodes.

Magnus: Okay, I'll put it in my calendar.

End ID.]

genuinely I think some of the funniest moments in a TAZ relisten are when Griffin severely underestimates the amount of time it's going to take him to tell his story. it did, in fact, take twenty-two (22) episodes after this point for Magnus to find out who the Red Robe was

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ID: An edited screenshot of a tweet. johann the bard, @bestviolinistever, tweets: My boss told me the Relics keep eating her Reclaimers so I asked how many guys she has and she said she just goes to the surface and gets a new guy afterwards so I said it sounds like she's just feeding random guys to the Relics and then her gnome started crying. End ID.

mfw no relics after nearly a year of the BOB operating

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*taz amnesty theme plays loudly*

textless version under the cut!

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Taako Taaco voice: It's not all abra-ca-fuck-you and what have you! I have a beating heart!! I'm multidimensional!!! I'm a fully realized creation! Fuck!!

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"This Sephiroth looking mother fucker,"

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From the bottom of my heart: im not sorry for anything i put on yalls dash, i am my own target audience and i find my taste immaculate but thank u for witnessing 💕

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Why is no one freaking the fuck out about TAZ: Royale. Like this is 100% exactly my shit in every conceivable way. Dungeons and Dragons meets Squid Games meets Conclave. The main PCs are Disco Goth, Bug Fascist, and Grog Strongjaw If He Was A Wizard. Campy stupid wizard names up the wazoo. Y'all are SLEEPING

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No context adventure zone

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We got the classic Adventure Zone party comp of Twink, Jock, and Beast