#spoopy-but-safe

[spoopy-but-safe]

Another potential tag change poll.

I found out that the "noms" tag is currently mostly used by younger people, and they've asked that people my age (25) and over not use them.

On the one hand, I've been using them for a really long time; Like, pre-sideblog times. There hasn't been a problem with me using them until very recently.

On the other, times do change, and sometimes we have to change with them. So, I ask this:

*I've used the word "trash" as a code word for this stuff since I was a teenager; I use it casually when talking to my boyfriend about it. If I did this change, I would simply swap out the word "noms" in my existing tags for the word "trash". So, "Safe trash", "Healing trash", etc.

[spoopy-but-safe]

Reblogging this here, and also adding some additional info:

Healers have developed their own special cultivars of fruits and veggies to use in their food. There are many, but I'll only talk about one for now: A breed of tomato grown mostly in the main Den, which is situated in what we know in our world as the American south.

These tomatoes have a rich, savory flavor, almost like roasted meat. They're also really big once fully grown, around the same size as a cantaloupe. These tomatoes are often picked while still green, sliced, and fried, and either eaten by themselves or as a topping in sandwiches.

One of the common areas of the Den is essentially a huge cafeteria that operates 24/7. You can visit here and get fresh food made from local ingredients anytime. Great way to try whatever crazy fruits and veggies are in season at the moment.

Rare outsider-safe piece of info about Healing:

Healing is pretty strong magic, and it never shuts off. Even while the Healer sleeps, even when truly unconscious. It becomes an integral bodily process, like their heartbeat and their breathing. It never stops as long as they live.

Obviously, this uses lots of energy. Because of this constant energy use, Healers have to eat quite a bit more than outsiders of their same species. They eat bigger portions and eat more often than others tend to, given good conditions.

Healers are also blessed with more powerful and more attuned senses, including their senses of taste and smell. Good flavors in their food are amplified. They can even taste flavors that outsiders fully can't. You know those jokes about shrimp colors? That's what these flavors are like; an outsider can't even imagine them.

Fun real-life fact: You gain more nutrition from your food when you enjoy eating it. Look it up, it's true!

With all of these factors combined, I come to the main point of the post: Healers have their own cultural foods in places where they congregate across the world. This food is very calorically and nutritionally dense, and also incredibly flavorful. If an outsider were to eat this food, they would likely need only half or even a quarter of the portion that a Healer would need of the same dish.

I just find it neat.

(Forgot to say at first for the uninitiated: an outsider is someone who IS NOT a Healer.)

[thecourtjester12]

Introducing the new and improved 'Moondrop' Naptime Attendant of the Superstar Daycare!

CW: Scopophobia, possible eyestrain

"....bedtime, bedtime....it's past your bedtime little one....."

At long last the bot is done! LSAU Moondrop and its non existent personality! It's only following protocols after all.

[ad4m-bit-th3apple]

uhhh tornado warnings surrounding my town wish me luck broskis (gn)✌️✨

[thepirateboutique]

June 2024 Roundup 2/4

It's been a busy month over here! Today is the LAST day to use my coupon code for Pride Month, use PRIDE24 at checkout for 15% off!

https://thepirateboutique.etsy.com

June Roundup 1/4 June Roundup 3/4 June Roundup 4/4

[elizabethplaid]

This channel should not have captioning

I've mentioned how we have a camera set up in our garage, looking out the side window. I left the light on for my dad, so the thermometer looks a little creepy.

But considering this is... a direct video feed, it shouldn't have triggered the closed captioning. I've never seen it do that before, let alone in pink gibberish text. It's likely a data blip, though I'm not sure of the cause. The characters were changing for bit, too, then stabilized right before I took the pic.

3rd picture was taken just after the captioning went away. It looks less creepy in person, as my cell phone adjusted the lighting on the tv.

[ittybittyteddie]

*whispers*

halloween 🎃

halloween 👻

halloween 🦇

[cleocatrablossy]

He looks.

[obwjam]

Feeling deranged thinking about Sweeney Todd g/t please stick with me here.

Borrower in Mrs Lovett’s meat pie shop. They have to battle bugs constantly but there is always food, so it’s worth it.

Their base is upstairs because the unit above the shop has been abandoned for years.

Then Sweeney comes back and moves back into the unit and starts murdering people and the borrower is initially freaked out because Yikes™️ but then there’s this kind of morbid curiosity.

Like imagine humans brutally murdered this borrower’s family, so they see Sweeney murking people and are like hmmmmmm.

I think there’s a lot of room for toxic g/t relationships and lots of fearplay and I just :D

honestly i’m so with you here because the fearplay potential is OFF THE CHARTS

[spoopy-but-safe]

Random specific thing I think about a lot in trash: The action of the prey turning themselves right-side-up after being swallowed headfirst or otherwise wriggling into a more comfortable position.

Just imagine how that would feel from either side.

On one, pressing out at the yielding walls surrounding you, trying to push yourself off of them to turn yourself around. Finally ending up in the perfect position for a nap.

On the other, feeling them pushing and elbowing around in your belly, trying to get cozy. Even better if you assure them they don't have to be gentle about it; It doesn't hurt you, it feels nice.

And that isn't even getting into how that moment would look.

Gah, I just love it. 10000/10. I always have to at least acknowledge it in my story if the trash is the focus.

[spoopy-but-safe]

Now, I don't typically do this type of art that's relevant to noms... But, today, I made another modification to Oliver. I gave him a stomach!

Once again, under a cut for length.

To begin, I drew a rough shape on a scrap of pink mochi fabric that I had. This fabric is super soft and super stretchy (it's what they make squishmallows out of!), so it's perfect for this purpose!

I decided that the original shape wasn't big enough, so I extended it a bit.

Rather than cutting this out before I sewed it, I just decided to pin all around it so the two layers wouldn't shift too much and sew it first.

After I sewed it, I cut it out.

Then, I unpicked part of the stitching in the back of Oliver's mouth, placed the pouch inside, and hand sewed it in.

This was pretty quick and easy, and came together quite well! Once the stitching was finished, he looked pretty seamless!

... But, if you open his mouth...

And now, Oliver can eat!

I had to test if another stuffed animal fit inside, and Bnuuy here volunteered:

He does in fact fit all the way inside, with room to spare. I didn't want to leave him in there, though, so Bnuuy has returned to his spot on the bed.

And there we go! I really like how this turned out. Now I just need to figure out what I should keep in there...

So! For Christmas, I received one of these guys from my sister:

This is a Wild Republic monsterkin. The name he comes with is Dusk, but I named mine Oliver.

I specifically asked for him because he's my favorite of the line. Just look at him! He's a big ol bugbear!

(This post is kinda long, so I'm gonna put the rest under a cut.)

--------------------------------------------------

I'm telling you this in case you want one, as well: For some ungodly reason, Dusk's arms are FULLY SEWN INTO THE SIDES OF HIS BODY. They can't be lifted or moved, they're completely attached from top to bottom! I've never seen anything quite like it.

You can't tell from the product picture, and it really bothered me when I first unwrapped Oliver. I decided I'd use my sewing skills to detach most of the arms from the body, leaving only the shoulders attached. I figured that the body and arms were all one piece, and there was just stitching down the sides to make it look like he has arms. For fatigue/brain badness reasons, I waited until today to do my alterations.

Turns out, it was even more baffling than that. The arms are separate pieces that were just sewn fully into the sides of the body. I unpicked the stitching up to his new shoulders, leaving him like this:

(I know my bed is messy, shh)

The arms were literally just closed with messy, exposed seams and just made part of the body. Wild.

Unpicking him this way left him open on his sides, so I used those to plump him up a bit with some of my nice polyfill (the stuff he comes with is kinda rough and clumpy), and I also decided to give him a safety nose!

I did some nice, strong stitches down his sides, and then closed his arms neatly! Oliver is now capable of sniffing AND hugging!

... Hopefully not at the same time.

There we go! Oliver is now his own monster, different from all the other Dusks! He's ready for snuggles and adventures now!

[cleolinda]

I finally figured out why—you know how people have comfort TV, or books, or whatever it is? I finally figured out why some people’s comfort media is horror, because that genre is one of mine. And mine’s more suspense, mystery, psychological horror, or even paranormal investigator shows that are very spoopy as long as you suspend your skepticism and go with the vibes. I’m not into huge amounts of gore or slasher movies or shock horror. But I know some people are, and I’m sure there’s someone out there who finds Terrifier 2 comforting, somehow.

It’s because they’re things we enjoy. That’s it. You can get into “horror is a safe roller coaster” and all that, but that’s why we enjoy horror. Enjoying anything is why we find it comforting. Not because I find being discomfited comforting; not because someone thinks chainsaw maniacs are intrinsically comforting. It’s because you sit there with something familiar and go, “Aw, here’s the really good part!” or “I really love the acting,” or “The mood is IMMACULATE,” or “The people who made this really put so much love and effort into the effects, look how good this is,” exactly the same way I would with, say, Lord of the Rings. Maybe you remember the behind-the-scenes lore, or reminisce about the first time you saw it and where you were in your life. Maybe even how much you needed whatever it is at that point in your life. And that’s why I might sit there behind a pillow rewatching The Haunting of Hill House, or going down a beloved creepypasta/No Sleep rabbit hole, while everyone else thinks I’ve lost my mind. I feel better about it when you frame it that way—it’s whatever reason you liked something in the first place, mellowed into fondness.

[elizabethplaid]

The weird captioning appeared on my tv again!

It was changing quite rapidly tonight, so I ended up taking a video. But it -kept- changing, so I couldn't just... stop recording. Video is 20 minutes long, def too long to post to tumblr.

On the bright side, dad and I figured out it's likely related to the light being on in the garage. It had stopped when he turned off the light after getting home. He offered to turn it on again, and it made the captioning return! So... yeah, somehow the modem that connects the video feed is likely interpreting signals in the light as a form of closed captioning. Mystery solved!

Original post was November 3rd, 2023

[fungalittleweirdo]

All four 12 turtles first meetings/impressions headcanons pleeeeeaaassseee <3333

anything for pookie <333

2012 TMNT First Meetings Headcanons

Leo

i think he would be interested in keeping you safe if you're a civilian

if you're a criminal he might talk you down from doing crime first, if you don't listen to him though he will kick your ass

but back to if you're a regular person in new york– if you were in danger he would most likely defend you

and if you insist on keeping him company because he saved your life, he might get a little shy and embarrassed

are you hungry ? he'll get you an order of pizza gyozas as soon as possible

you're one of the few humans he's ever met, it's a little hard for him to socialise with you at first but then gets the hang of it

if you're interested in any of the things he's interested in he will ask about it

he might infodump about space heroes if you're not careful

if you let him, he might develop a silly little crush on you

sorry this leo first impression headcannon thing is purely spoopy fanservice

Raph

he'd think nothing of you if you're a civilian

if you're a criminal he'd beat your ass, no questions asked

but if you're insistent on talking to raph after he saves your life or whatever he'd get annoyed and ask why you want to talk to him so bad

but this is only if he's still with mona

if he hadn't been with mona at all or they broke up or whatever, he might be bored enough to have you around for company

he might end up venting to you if you listen to him for long enough

raph feels as though he's never listened to and to have someone so ready and willing to hear him ramble, it comforts him

you might become his favourite friend after a night of talking and getting to know one another

he also would like it if you wanted to watch him train and cheer him on, it helps dissolve his insecurities

Donnie

depends how you react to him when it comes to you being a civilian

as for you being a criminal ? he'd ask you why, how, when– he wants every little detail about the crime you're committing and the context behind it. he might not even want to kick your ass at all, maybe he just wants to talk.

now, if the turtle's saving your life and you're grateful like a normal person, thanking him and going on your merry way, he'd be proud of himself for handling whatever you tangled yourself with on his own.

if you make out his save as a knight-in-shining-armour-saving-his-princess situation ? he would get all flustered and embarrassed, falling for you hard if you give him any semblance of affection as thanks.

the mutant is starved for affection after all the years he's pined and yearned. crushing should be his middle name and it's not for crushing his enemies.

spending the rest of the night talking to him would probably mean him checking for wounds or if you got hurt.

he would worry about you no matter if your life was threatened or if someone just tried to steal your bag

haha you're the next april (whether you reciprocate or not is up to you)

Mikey

nah dude you're chill brah

bro's clueless if you're committing crime

but otherwise he'd fight whatever's threatening you then offer if you want to hang out with him

whether you agree or scream and run away it's your choice (but the latter isn't what you're here for, is it ?)

he'd take you to murakami's or some pizza place he knows of for food first

after eating you guys would go up to the rooftops and he'd try to show you tricks on his board

maybe try to flirt with you if he finds you easy on the eyes

you spending time with him kind of reassures him that he's not annoying like his brothers say he is, so you're making him feel better about himself just by keeping him company

he'd love to talk to you again !! definitely will call you in the middle of the night to ask you if you think pineapple belongs on pizza.

[townofcadence]

"Smoke?" He repeats, trying to make sense of what he thought he heard. She's speaking loud, but the blizzard is doing it's damndest to swallow them both. The snow is already to their thighs. "That's good!" That meant there had to be somewhere nearby. Even if it was the worst option, a cave, or the best, one of those buildings along the trails, that would at least give them some respite from the storm until it passed. Either way, those options were better than standing here. And with the flurrying winds, it couldn't be far, or the scent would've been dispersed by all the air movement. Right?

He pauses as she takes point, a protest on his tongue. He knows how much trust it takes to show her back and there's a bitter feeling in placing her in that position, but what he hates even more is the idea of her taking the brunt of the load. Salena was so sacrificial, she'd hurt herself without a thought to protect him, but he needs to protect her, when she already suffers so much for him and everyone she cares for. She shouldn't have to do this.

But....he can concede that her fur is protecting her, and it was senseless for both of them to face the winds. He can tell how she much this will take out of her this close too. If she even started to twinge in pain, he could step in so she could recover, if need be.

He keeps that thought tucked into his chest like a safeguard. Arms hugging himself, Artair follows behind her in the storm.

It seems worse every minute, and he's glad they have her nose; he can hardly see in the sleeting wrath of the blizzard. It all is just white, drifting, pelting, slicing--- he can only focus on Salena's tail, trying to use it as his guide as she trudges forward. The furrows she leaves in the snow help him keep up, though they fill near as fast as she plows them with her legs. He can see the spires of pines, black and frosted and barely visible in this weather, the needles billowing under the intensity of each snowy gale. They.... won't make it much farther. He's cold-- cold cold cold he can't stop shaking and crying and he's so ANGRY---

Artair lets out a shaky breath, one stolen by the wind before he can even see the fog of the exhale. His shoulder is burning and he feels numb again--- that was--- he wasn't sure. The feelings drop away and then crescendo all at once in his chest before vanishing again. It's exhausting, almost as exhausting as he's starting to feel. He's still crying, and the tears freeze on his cheeks into crackled ice, breaking as his skin tightens in winces.

He's ready to ask Sal to stop, to just dig a space out, and make a shelter. He isn't sure he can make it much further before he's a fucking popsicle, with how soaked and bedraggled he is. His hair is hanging against him, plastered to his face and iced white by snow, and he stumbles from the stiffness in his legs, even if moving them is all that's keeping him from freezing. The prosthetic hardly moves, and when he brushes himself with the metal it feels so frigid it burns. His veins are cold, it feels like his heart is pumping ice through his body, and his breathing feels slow, strained. If he swallows enough snow, can he drown? Maybe? Fuck, he's tired. The cold is seeping into even the marrow of his bones. They feel liable to snap. He keeps coughing--

And then Salena stops in front of him. He peers around her.

Lights. Window panes lit in warm gold.

It's like being struck by lightning. Both their paces increase, moving as fast as they can towards what can only be some kind of outpost. He can barely see the shape of the building, but the yellow casts like a beacon into the dark of the snow; it leaves pools of warm light, shimmering and wavering with snow as drifts of it pass through the light. It can't be more than a hundred feet or so, maybe just a little more than that. They can make it. They came this far, they can do this. A hundred feet is nothing.

At the loping pace they both manage, they're already halfway there. The door opens and he can see fire, warm light, fucking salvation from the cold. Someone runs out, waving their arms frantically and yelling. They must have seen them from the windows, and are trying to flag them over--

Artair feels a gust of wind leave him and his arm lights up in fire. He can't catch his breath, as cold burns into his lungs like thin tendrils of ice, which splinters into spears that pierce through the precious tissue. He almost falls forward, seeing Sal continuing to move towards their destination. She knew he was supposed to be right behind her but---

His thoughts scatter like the flakes stinging his skin and his eyes threaten to droop. He turns his head to the sensation and sees frozen crystals like quartz and icicles growing from the perimeter of the sensation. And there, ringed by that growing ice, was a hand. It is pale and damaged, blue at the palm and black at the tips of their fingers. It clutches his arm at the bicep tight, and the touch sent convulsions through him, flooded his eyes with tears enough to blind and a dizzying vertigo.

He manages a few blinks to clear them, and a zombie turn of his head to follow the hand-- a woman stands there, her hair mid length and sleek, black and tipped with frost until it shimmers, and floating around her like she's underwater. Her outfit is bleached of all color, a coat with fur trim and thick pants, all damaged, tattered with rips and tears. He can see what looks like a knitted hat, tangled in her hair near the crown of her head and vanishing behind her in the curtain of her wavering hair. She's shorter than him, but she seems to stand on the snow itself, so she towers above him by at least a foot as her tattered boots glide over the banks at his side. One leg sits twisted, near all the way backwards, with splinters of bone jutting out where a break likely was beneath her pants. The whole of her visage carries an ethereal glow in the softest blue.

She has a pale face, white beyond life, with parts shorn away like one might expect with biting winds like this. Her lips, her cheeks, her nose and ears-- even the hollows of her eyes were all black and bloodless. Sparkling flakes of ice dapple her eyelashes and brows, the corners of her mouth, and the edges of raw, damaged flesh with white. The rest of her glitters, like freshly fallen snow catching in the golden light of the building ahead. Her eyes were white with a milky sightlessness. Tears flow in streams that froze over themselves in sheets on her face.

When her mouth moved, black dribbled out, dripping down her chin before seeming to congeal where it oozed along her face. Her lips opened more, wider and wider, and her cheeks seemed to crack, to fracture like glass along the skin, revealing black underneath. Still she stretches her open mouth, until they shatter entirely in black and white shards; he can't even feel as some of them embed in his arm where she holds it. They continue breaking away, allowing her jaws to stretch into a yawning chasm, impossibly wide.

For someone alive, that is.

"S-sAL--"

A wail escapes her throat. His own strained whisper cuts away. Artair's vision turns snowy with spots and static as a wave of something wracks him. He swears she doesn't speak, but he hears it nonetheless, even during her endless, unyielding scream.

It's.

MINE.

It bounces in his head like a ricocheting bullet. The woman is still screaming, but he hears the voice in his head with clarity, like those two words were whispered in his ear in a silent room. And the voice-- it sounds tattered, wrecked and raw and desperate and enraged; the torrent of it drowns him to mutism, makes him wish he could rip each rib from his chest to escape the torment. His fingers flex under the compulsion, and he almost collapses, almost drops to his knees--

But this isn't the worst he's suffered.

He bites his lip until it bleeds from the points of his incisors, and inhales through those clenched teeth. A flicker of life restores itself in him with the forced breath. He wrenches his arm in the woman's grasp, feeling the hand break away with a hollow, crackling snap. It twists his stomach, but he focuses on the momentum.

Keep moving.

He stumbles forward in the snowdrift, trying to put distance between him and---whatever that woman was. Hopefully he'll end up closer to Sal and what might be a break from all the freaking perils. He hears a howl behind him, another shriek from the woman, but he pitches only further forward, trying to navigate while blinded by just-- too much.

Admittedly, keeping her attention on something other than the snow was doing some wonders against her own body. Assess the situation, be mindful of the other person with her, figure out the next step they would need to logically take. Her armor and fur were naturally made to withstand the weather, but it wasn't going to last forever. Her shivers from the initial hit would die down, but the blizzard would remain.

More concerning was Artair. He was significantly worse off than she was. Skin rather than fur. Clothing that was going to get soaked the longer they stayed out in the open. All he had to protect his face was his hood, and even that was not going to be enough.

Finding shelter was of the highest priority. Even if she had to dig a hole somewhere for them both to hunker down in, she would.

Or hell, maybe her vial could be a last resort option. A stone body wouldn't suffer much from the snow, and it would make blocking the wind and snow from Artair much easier... trouble was they wouldn't be able to move... not easily anyways. Flying was out too.

So they would walk.

Salena's ears pulled back, eyes narrowing as they fell on his hand. It was already turning red... they needed to move now.

He tried his phone... and while slightly helpful, couldn't give them a direction. Neither could his compass. She couldn't help the way her lips pulled up into a silent snarl. A random direction wasn't going to do them any good. He'd suggested seeing if she could hear or smell anything. Hearing wasn't really doing any good for them either... not over the roar of the wind from the blizzard.

She thought she could hear something else under it... but not certain. Not anything that would lead them to shelter.

Then her nose caught something. Smoke. Smoke was liable to be coming from some kind of fire. There wasn't anything else she could think of that would create such a source, at least not in this storm. If there was a fire going nearby, then it had to be in a covered space.

Salena turned her head back to Artair, "I can smell smoke. I'm going to lead us to it. Fall in line behind me and I'll take the brunt of the storm." Of course... she was aware of what this meant... asking him to do that. It all came down to trust.

She took a deep breath, turned her back to him, pushed against the storm, and began to lead them, following the only smell that might be their saving grace.

[spoopy-but-safe]

Hello everyone!

I trashified another stuffed animal!

My boyfriend knows me well. So well that he saw a huge plush shark for sale at the store he works at and decided I had to have it as a christmas gift... Specifically because it has a huge, open mouth with a seam in the back of it. I named my shark Galileo!

It took me a bit to get the fabric for this, but I got it and sat down to do this a couple days later.

Here's some before pictures:

It was pretty straightforward to unpick the stitches across the back of his mouth... Even though I've lost my seam ripper and had to do it with scissors 🤦

I then made a pouch, following the same procedure I did when I made Oliver's.

It was a bit harder this time to sew the pouch into the back of the mouth.

The pink fabric of the mouth is very rigid, so sewing it was kind of tedious. I poked my fingertips a lot this time, and accidentally stabbed the back of my thumb hard at one point.

But, the sore fingers are worth it to me for this result:

Because Galileo is so much bigger than Oliver, I can fit my entire arm in his pouch up to the shoulder like this:

And another trashification project is done! Now I just need to find a stuffed animal big enough for me to climb into...