#origin: mother of learning
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incorrect-wormquotes · 5 months ago
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As the Undersiders are approaching the bank:
Skitter: Are you sure this is legal?
Tattletale: When did I ever say anything about legality?
Skitter: You said people do this all the time!
Tattletale: Which is not the same thing!
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botslayer9000 · 3 months ago
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I've been itching to draw folk costumes for a while now so i figured i'd jump on the international Miku trend! These Mikus are from Ternopil, Ukraine; and Tula, Russia - one for each side of my family <3
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Here are the sources I used for each costume:
TERNOPIL -
youtube
TULA:
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batwynn · 1 month ago
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My comic is so serious.
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veinsfullofstars · 5 months ago
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what happened with the ghost pepper fiasco???? 👀
—✨
Oh, you know. Just the Bad Decision Duo making some bad decisions in the name of one-upmanship. Like always.
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One very brief pepper-eating contest later…
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They end up bedridden for a whole week after that, and grounded by their horrified parents for even longer. Doesn't stop Bow from bragging about the win, though, even into the present day. Dedede tries his very best to pretend it never happened (and steers clear of ghost peppers from then on).
**Suffice to say, they are dummies, and children, and fictional characters. Please do not try this at home.**
Sketch started 06/29/24, finished 07/01/24.
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ratective · 1 year ago
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pearl never owned a fun book in her life, let alone a childrens book so the babies make do with what they have 😔
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spacefarersage · 5 months ago
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guilt
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yakny · 8 months ago
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"NUNCA APRENDES, PLATITA."
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xvimism · 9 months ago
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At the risk of dividing the fandom...
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viagginterstellari · 11 days ago
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Samarkand, 2022
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saintsonnet · 1 year ago
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CRIPPLED KID
It's poetry,
The way I limp across
The kitchen floor
To take my hot bag
Out of the microwave
For the sixth time today.
It's poetry,
My crinkled sheet of paper
With the stretches on it
That I always forget to do.
The click and tap
Of my cane and
Those boots with the special insoles
Is music.
A metronome keeping time
Along with my probably too-fast heartbeat.
Every action paints a picture
Of just another crippled kid
Trying to be normal.
I decorate my cane with stickers
And on the bad days I wish it were a wheelchair.
I use empty bottles of painkillers
As decorations.
Scattered here and there,
Ibuprofen,
Acetaminophen,
Aspirin,
Naproxen.
Maybe my liver is shot.
Watching, checking
How I crack my knuckles.
How I walk.
How my posture is.
How my arms are positioned
While I knit and crochet.
I am my own surveillance state
Keeping everything in line.
It's miserable, all this.
Watching, checking,
Empty bottles for decoration.
It's now time to limp
Across the kitchen floor
For a seventh time
To heat up my hot bag
Again.
Again.
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gigginox · 5 months ago
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oh did i mention i beat metyr earlier. very cool boss and i know probably a thousand people have said this but VERY bloodborne
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nebulouscoffee · 1 year ago
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Me, attending the latest in a ridiculous number of funerals this year in the place of a childhood friend who couldn't be there, watching the lifeless body of an old lady who used to make me snacks in the kitchen when I was a kid be carted away forever while my friend's mother cries and tells me she's grateful I could be there because it felt like having the support of her own daughter, hugging her and talking reassuringly and not processing a single one of these emotions: ... I am going to write soooo much fanfiction about this
#''this'' being collective grief. because tbvh it's the main reason I haven't written very much this year (but will slowly start to)#I write to remind myself I am lucky. I keep telling myself this but even now when I feel awful I am so lucky#I am lucky that none of these funerals have involved very close family members or friends of mine#and I am lucky to be living in conditions with the space to write and space to grieve#and space to come together to mourn with dignity while people not that far away from me are not receiving the same privilege rn#I am lucky my dad was with me today and I spent the evening chatting with him on the terrace I am lucky he is alive I am lucky I am lucky#(apologies if this sounds like a robot malfunctioning lmao writing is just how I process things)#(and apparently I just don't seem to feel like I have the right to feel bad about any of this anywhere except my st@r trek blog hehe)#anyway. To stay on theme I shall say something about Trills :D#I imagine loss and grief must register very differently to them. very Non Linearly in the literal sense but also a highly abstract one#even I feel this massive sense of time warp between all these funerals; and this chest-crushing distance between me and my friends#how do Trills even exist#how do they wake up every day remembering all those friends and children and parents who loved them and they loved and are gone now#and still function#how does Ezri feel walking around with memories of parents that aren't hers (but were soooo much better than hers) taking care of her#does she feel comforted by them? does it feel like the people in those memories were always comforting HER specifically?#does it even matter who it belonged to originally if a memory is HERS now?#does Ezri mourn for any parents of past hosts more than she knows she will mourn for her own mother one day?#does having all this lived experience bring her reassuring amounts of perspective for a 20-something or just overwhelm her all the more?#idk; but I hope she learns to take comfort in her past hosts' memories of family eventually...#(...again. I am going to write sooooo much fan fiction about this lmao)#cw death
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suffering-is-cute · 11 months ago
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banishing the hours of the quiet night, i vigorously
shake my head, calling away the moments before daylight's momentum hits.
my mother whispered into the shell of my ear, brandishing a cup of honey water like proof of a quest accomplished -
"it's not that i don't love you, it's that you're so hard to love."
i wonder what she thinks she gains by teaching her beloved child that she is unworthy of what she has given - i only shy away further from all touch, now, instead of inviting closeness.
and i used to ask her what she was watching and plop down beside her, trying to share in the fun
but i don't know, today, i just mutely watch her from the doorway, transfixed on her drama, Alone, Alone, Alone,
and pass by the door, heading for my own room.
the car crash of those words had no crunch zone and i am the one who crumpled, draining the cup dry, offering futile honest words
"i know, i know, i know" you have done such a great job of teaching me this lesson, you never had to put it in words to get it through.
fruitlessly, helplessly, uselessly, difficulty, i have bated my breath and baited myself. i have bared my soul to this ceaseless thought of not being worth company.
i accepted it, but this sin surpasses all previous sins - if you don't love me, i beg of you, just never tell me that it's because i am me.
banishing the hours of the quiet night, i switch on the radio and go to sleep. i also know that you have your own issues, dearest mother of mine (i say this without bite), i know that your mother does not love you enough and so you do not know how to love.
i agree, finally, that i am allowed to be loved, I give assent to the me quarreling within for rights.
Oh, i can't stop loving and questioning and hoping for understanding. i hope you forgive me, mother, for not blindly believing you when you say that I'm hard to be loved -
there is someone who loved me regardless, so i know it can be done. on that day that i was love, i was handed the proof that i am alive and not merely a ghost, clutching at the documents printed with the signature and stamp of someone willing to be responsible for my life.
there is paperwork, so i can prove it.
one woman's trash is
another man's
treadmill, thread, treasure
i am fine with being your trash
as long as there is one person in this world who looks at me and sees the glorious tides swishing around buried treasure
i can stand up, straight, again. after everything. accidental compromises. vast misfortune. majority disbelieving.
i went back to sleep peacefully. the creamer in my coffee speaks an ancient prophecy - even if you mind, you will be loved - and this holds me steadfast like an anchor in a storm or an x in a treasure map.
staying sitting in this room, I won't fall because I am ready to be found and I am freed from wanting to be quiet like the surroundings of my hurt that I hadn't realised was there.
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thebookworm0001 · 2 years ago
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Hi hello queer southerner here:
The word y’all is already inclusive. if I see one of y’all using “y’xll” because you don’t want to associate with the south, I’m smacking you with my cast iron skillet.
You’re not better than us because you’re from a northern/blue state.
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1introvertedsage · 5 months ago
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▪️Spirit Mother▪️
The more sensory information you gather, the stronger your connections with the world can be.
~The Pattern~
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imaginethathaikyuu · 5 months ago
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chat is making fun of a dead woman and using the word fat as an insult “real feminism?”
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mind you these were comments on a post about … building taylor swift in minecraft 😭😭😭
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