#BUT POSTED THE DRAFT???

[texas-bbq-pringles]

HELP

[whereisthesun]

I HATE MORAL OCD. well i shouldnt say hate thats a strong word. and i dont want to sound like i hate people WITH moral ocd because i dont of course. i just hate having it. but i shouldnt think that, i do like having morals, its just stressful to be thinking about them so constantly and scrutinizing every little thing i do or think. but really thats the least i could do so i should at least try, right? just because i suffer from— no, struggle with moral ocd doesn’t mean i should just stop thinking about things all together, thats not what im saying and i should make that clear, but i

[thedisablednaturalist]

Kinda fucked up that we all coo and sympathize with "former gifted kids" but never talk about the students who had to stay late after school or over the summer for remedial classes/clubs, who struggled to get above a C, who were given up on or punished. Who tried so hard to understand or just couldn't. Who were grouped with the "stupid kids" (a classmate called us that in remedial math btw)

Autistic kids and adhders who can't relate to their gifted peers and are constantly alienated by them. Kids who struggled in school due to dealing with a chronic or mental illness or physical/learning/developmental disability. Those of us who have had to drop out of highschool or college. Kids who worked so hard and wanted to be seen as smart, but never were. Who watched as their peers seem to fly by them in school, while they were left behind. Who were bullied and put down by those in the gifted and honors classes. Whose confidence was absolutely destroyed by education.

I love you all and I'm so sorry the school system failed you. I'm sorry you weren't properly accommodated and given the education you deserved. I'm sorry people put you down for something that they never had to fight for.

[valtsv]

12th century architect: this cathedral is looking so good. it could still use a little something, though. maybe a scary creature or two?

the grotesque gargoyle:

[hinamie]

trick or treat!

[fxreflyes]

“tumblr mutual” beloved friend I would pick up at the airport if y’all visited my home city

[the-maw-consumes]

do you think it'll let up soon?

static version:

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[bananna-threads]

Hand embroidered, self drafted, birch tree inspired buttonup shirt.

[thesnadger]

I have a question about this image of Xanathar's Thieves Guild.

Why does he have sexily lounging elf boys?

I ask because I cannot imagine a beholder being attracted to anything other than itself. Does he just understand Sexily Lounging Elf Boys to be a status symbol, and he wants anyone who visits to know he can afford Sexily Lounging Elf Boys?

Maybe I'm the asshole here for assuming. Maybe these boyfriends are master tacticians here to advise Xanathar, they happen to like wearing leather pants and no shirts and I should be less quick to reduce them to sex objects.

I don't care, I love it, this is all I can think of every time I see it:

[evilmafuyu666]

[aftgscenes]

It’s so funny going from Neil’s asexual pov to jeans definitely NOT asexual pov

Neil: Kevin is tall and has a tattoo

Jean: pretty boy with a soft smile and beautiful green eyes

Neil: Renee is a women and has hair

Jean: a force of hope and beauty, an anomaly in a world that’s ugly and bleak. She is the sun.

Neil: Jeremy is the captain of the Trojans and he smiles a lot for some reason

Jean: his bleach blonde hair frames his tanned freckled skin, his broad shoulders and tiny waist give way to his thicc thighs and ass

But also the reverse

Neil: Andrews strong unwavering frame and honey colored eyes

Jean: the tiny goalkeeper

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Me taking my hypothetical children to pride:

See that man in the dog mask? He's playing a game of make believe with his friends to have fun, just like we do! See how his tail is wagging?

See that man with a gun? He's part of a violent institution that serves the ruling elite and upholds white supremacy. Fifty years ago he would have been raiding all these bars and arresting us all. He could shoot you in the face right now and probably not even lose his job. If he tries to talk to you, remember to say, "I won't speak with you unless I have an attorney present."

[purplecatghostposts]

Chat Noir: Hey, my lady? Quick question: why was Argos multitasking during patrol and trying to solve a cryptex? He said he got it from you.

Ladybug, casually: Oh, it’s from my latest treasure hunt I made for him.

Chat Noir: …You give him treasure hunts? Why?

Ladybug: I still don’t totally trust him not to pull another ‘Red Moon’ incident so I figured if I give him enrichment, he’s gonna be spending his time solving puzzles and figuring out clues that take him all over the city instead of potentially becoming a supervillain again.

Chat Noir, who watched Félix spend several hours to solving riddles last night: …Huh. Does he know..?

Ladybug: 90% sure, yes. I don’t think he cares that much, he’s pretty invested in it and I’m great at creating complex systems with clues to follow so— it works out. Plus usually there is something to find at the end of the trail. Usually Kagami.

[slimegirlwarlock]

[naiad-r]

Cage me like an animal A crown with gems and gold Eat me like a cannibal Chase the neon throne If I could only let go

Death pact, fulfilled.