#(under cut)

[strangeart13]

Don't worry guys

Mo just ran out of fuel

I was trying to the go the family guy death post but I couldn't figure the freakin thing out

U can't tell me that pose is automatically accurate I refuse

U know what

It probably is I'm just mad I couldn't figure it out

[samandmaxfanatic]

late night doodles. (I drew way more than this but I'm not going to post all of it sinceeee very much of it is just crazy shit)

RAMBLING UNDER CUT (and oc since I forgot to put it)

i have like a wholleeee bin holding all of my Flowey doodles and artworks. But I don't post most since some are more cringe and some are leaning toward the suggestive side. (And sorta lewd. Not as in sex. But still horny shit)

EDIT. FORGOT ADDING MY STUPID OC.

[aetheryic]

maybe life was better in the jar

without these memories

[bldmnrises]

a grim reminder ; to those who know of link's earliest memories with zelda in botw.

rhoam essentially tells zelda " no more childhood, no more free will or living your life, you are no longer my (a) child or my (a) daughter, you are the last remaining hope for this kingdom. should you fail, EVERYONE DIES. no pressure, zelda : ) "

[pamhr]

[pidgeyatto]

had a..........weird mix of emotions happen on the family call for christmas, everything's fine and nothing Bad happened but my mood sure did get ruined midway in it

i'm gonna focus on writing for the night ;_;

[reinacrbers]

hottest undercut very short haircut buzzed - short hairstyles for women - Barbershop Women 2022 Home&Women

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[strangeart13]

Soooo I'm almost at a 100 followers (almost) and I was wondering since I haven't shared much about Leech

Ramble under cut

Honestly I could do both which I just write out their backstory then make it into a mini comic

Issue is that I don't really have the time to draw right now

I don't think I'll do a dtiy when I hit 100 cuz uh I simply don't want to?

And that I don't think anyone would enter

And it's not really a milestone for me?

I mean I hit it before on another platform so something larger than that is more impactful for me

Thank u to whoever reads all this

There's a lot on my mind at all time

Guess it's nice to put it somewhere

[ferretpajamapants]

WAKE UP,,,,

NEW BEHEMOTH GAME,,,

OHHHH MY GODDD

[hells-greatestdad]

// gonna take a bath and try to find some pain relief

Then I wanna get on here and respond to some things

I'm beginning to think my arm is just gonna be stuck like this. I guess 2 weeks is a bit early for that mindset, especially when I haven't been to the Dr yet. But geez

Asking my mom to pick up Tylenol and monsters so I can continue to enjoy semi normal days

[gallusrostromegalus]

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God.  He taught himself how to use his smartphone.  Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity. 

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.”  Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid.  My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution:  He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose.  While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada.  He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her. 

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System.  It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”.  He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room.  It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds.  Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled. 

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan.  With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted.  The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone. 

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.  

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape.  She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times.  Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System.  It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy!  My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year.  I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image.  A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair.  Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing). 

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked  car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

[gael-garcia]

Les Femmes Palestiniennes (1974, Jocelyne Saab)

youtube (eng subs). vimeo (spanish subs) / runtime: 10mins

Palestinian women share with men this role in the armed struggle. […] We run our suicidal operations, they attack us from airplanes. It’s easy to fight, using aviation when one is up against simple armed Fedayeen. They attack us with American and French airplanes. It’s not just Israel who’s at war with us, but also the United States and France and all the other countries. We’re not afraid of Israel. We fight at broad daylight, face to face. The coward ones fight with their aviation. The brave ones fight on foot to free their land. […] And if there’s a political (two-state) solution? There won’t be any political solution. The only thing there will be is Palestine. As long as there’s at least one of our children left alive, there won’t be any political solution. There will only be Palestine, in its entirety.

[the-monarch-effect-official]

Samuel

L - Dietrich, R - Sammy

I don't know if I've actually posted what he looks like yet, so here he is. Maybe more in the future?

Extras under cut (tw on various things, but nothing graphic)

Spoiler-sensitive lore dump:

Samuel and Dietrich are both hosts, but in completely different contexts. Samuel is the regular, day-to-day, while "D" is involved in things related to "family business." Their legal name is (Dr.) Dietrich Samuel Müller, with Samuel being a preferred name since Dietrich is usually associated with their abusive father. System-wise, they both have subsystems, with Dietrich's having more branches.

Dietrich and Sammy are completely unaware of each other, and would hate each other if they met.

Sammy is really just Samuel but younger (about 17-20), and likes party and be the center of attention. He usually spends his time pretending he's a rockstar.

Though not shown here, there is a 4th main alter called "Doc," who usually handles surgery work. Samuel is the social side, while Doc handles the technical aspects, such as leadership and telling people what to do. Needless to say, Doc is very abrasive and quick to anger. He also has a bit of a god-complex.

Samuel, Sammy and Doc are the closest group, as they all appear most often. The Sams are the closest, while Doc takes on their phobias, such as blood.

Dietrich's main trigger is moonlight, with the wolf/werewolf/ulfednar motifs all throughout the system. Some alters are wolves, including the Big Bad Wolf, a threatening persecutor that prowls the inner world. Many other alters that populate the inner world are based on Brothers Grimm stories and other German fairytales. Much of their purposes are still being fleshed out.

Samuel is a vegetarian as meat makes him sick as a psychosomatic reation, where as Dietrich's side is typically more carnivorous. Wolves will never eat plant foods. Cheese is a house staple, and there's probably moldy food in the fridge.

Samuel can't really remember anything before college, and usually forgets he's German.

The reason Samuel associates his name with good things is because it's what his family's maid called him. If the core exists, he would be the most related to it. He calls himself a Christian, hoping that there is a god of some sorts.

Their body is 5'3"

[themarshmush]

the duality of man

(no audio)

Video description: Scrolling through the #wheatley fanart tag on Tumblr mobile and seeing a post featuring Wheatley from Portal 2 with lipstick stains all over him, and then scrolling down to see a picture of the same character but face/optic-down on glue paper with the caption, 'Wheatley dying in a glue trap'.

[scyllas-dogs]

well anniflamma may have too much dignity to draw poseidon getting backshots but I sure dont. here we go

more under the cut. dont judge me its been a long day

[samble-moved]

post itself

false flags

trans/adjacent tags

accessibility features

tumblr live post (thanks for the link, @problemnyatic)

flashing / strobing / lights

unblockable flashing ad

buying ad free

staff @/macmanx guilt trip

list of staff + more issues