With all the events going on recently I think it’s time to post this image againbc i’m tired of this shit
Thanks, I really needed this today!
hello vonnie
Not today Justin
Today's Document
YOU ARE THE REASON
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@aynjelfyre
With all the events going on recently I think it’s time to post this image againbc i’m tired of this shit
Thanks, I really needed this today!

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what a legend
Nothing can match this energy
fun fact: these are actual vocal warm ups he would do, and used this as a way to interact with the audience while being able to stretch while performing .
also he was a witch and he used it as a spell like look at that power
*thunder crackling*
THOU ART LISTENING TO
*fireball explosion*
102.3
*bubbling cauldron*
REAL WIZARDS FM
*shimmering mana crystal*
WHERE WE PLAYETH NOTHING BUT CHANTS, CHANTS, AND MORE CHANTS
*wololo*
THIS ART NOT THINE ELDER MATRIARCH'S STATION
*Imagine Dragons - Radioactive starts playing*
sorry this is so bad i just. needed
my phd supervisor is notoriously lax on fieldwork safety but he’s also 6’7 so it’s like yeah dude no wonder you’ve never had to worry about bears they see you coming and are like oh fuck it’s the slenderman
My friend, who I went to high school with, just asked me if Depeche Mode counts as Goth music because she remembers me listening to it a lot growing up and she's throwing a Goth bridal shower for a friend.
I don't think she expected me to start laughing like a madwoman as I prepare to get into 40 years of subculture discourse, but here we are.
#I know a very young guy who called Depeche Mode dad rock and the stunned silence that followed was something to behold
To be fair, I know some younger millennials who have been calling it 'dad rock' for the last twenty years.
The real psychological damage for me was hearing a teenager call My Chemical Romance "Dad Rock."
Like oh, this is what feeling old is like.
@un-shit-yourself thank you for the funniest fucking addition to this post.

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Naturalists have got to be one of the groups of people most susceptible to being tricked by the fae. Travellers these days are much less likely to follow a mysterious light or the smell of roast beef into the forest. Meanwhile, find me a naturalist who would not completely lose themself in pursuit of:
An unidentifiable bird call
A butterfly that’s slightly off-color
An opossum with its head stuck in a yogurt tub
A really big woodpecker
The Fae better be fuckin ready to be tagged and fitted with a Radio Collar for Science then, I got new hiking boots and no other ideas for research grant money.
it’s called fashion, sweaty
JEAN LOUIS SABAJI Couture Fall/Winter 2021 if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways
so if there’s one single trope i’m always down to fight it’s the animal bride (folklore motif 402??) which a lot of you are probably familiar with as the selkie - the fisherman either falls in love, steals her skin to trap her on land/gain power over her, or they fall in love and THEN he steals her skin to keep her from leaving, and either way she spends a lot of time gazing sadly out to sea and then she or her child finds the skin and never returns again. and that’s awful on a whole lot of levels - it’s not love, it’s control.
BUT. but the thing is. you how selkies/seal women was a pretty common variation of this? another really popular one was swans.
i just want you to think about that for a moment. swans. like…I get it, they’re pretty, graceful birds, certainly it’s easy to imagine them magically becoming pretty graceful ladies? but have you ever fought a swan. swans are awful. swans are the devil’s geese. imagine seeing a pretty magic lady and being absolutely enchanted by her, and stealing her magic feather cloak, and then you go up and say ‘hey i’m in love with you, let me make you my queen, it will be great, we’ll be so happy’ and she just looks at you for a moment and…
you know i was going to say maybe she just shouts for her sisters and suddenly you’re realizing you’ve made a terrible terrible mistake bc you’re surrounded by big fucking birds who are all hissing. but honestly if this swan lady is as aggressively down to brawl as any other generally unhappy swan, then she’d straight up fuck you up on her own. she’d just deck you roundhouse, honestly. you don’t fuck with swans. why does this trope exist
okay but consider this: a woman walks to the park every day and feeds the swans and watches them paddle gracefully around the lake, sighing to see how beautifully they swim.
finally one day, a swan comes up to her and says ‘why don’t you come and swim with us? you always sigh so wistfully to see us on the water, and you would be most welcome to join our company, for you have always been a true friend to our kind’
and the woman says, ‘i can’t swim’
and the swan says, ‘we’ll teach you’
and the woman says, ‘literally i can’t swim, my husband stole my sealskin and should i venture into deep water i would surely drown’
and the swan says ‘your husband fucking WHAT’
the next morning the woman’s front yard looks like this.
and neither the woman nor her husband are ever heard from again, though for very different reasons.
@elodieunderglass
tagged for imaginary swans doing the lord’s work
A++, two thumbs up.
It may also interest someone to know that swans can projectile poop.
I know a real-world mama swan who got shot in the wing and walked four miles overland to get back to her babies and dad swan, with her broken wing bleeding and dragging the whole way. She just kept going. Don’t mess with lady swans.
Also? Swans don’t have a lot of obvious physical markings that divide the males from females. So some idiot might be like, “damn, that’s a sexy bird, I wanna marry her” and then like. It’s a dude swan. You just transformed thirty pounds of angry aggressive bird into 200+ pounds of angry aggressive adult man, who will totally kick your butt. (Also I’m pretty sure that if you turned a lady swan into a human, you would not get a willowy little 5′0″ girl. You’d probably have a 6-foot amazon with biceps the size of your head. Swans are heavy birds and it takes a LOT of muscle to get them into the air. They are among the baddest bitches in the bird kingdom)
And when a swan decides to beat you up, it is not with fancy martial arts. Swans are brawlers. They have bone clubs built into their wing joints specifically for beating people up. A human swan is gonna come at you screaming and spitting and just keep punching you in the face until you regret every decision you have made ever in your life and also some of the ones your parents made too.
I want a movie where the swan is either played by The Rock or Gwendoline Christie and the screaming brawls are the centerpiece.
The sorcerer’s eyes scan the lake greedily. He’s been coming here for months, dreaming. Waiting.
Choosing.
And now it’s time.
“That one,” he tells the two men he hired earlier this morning, pointing one long, ring-adorned finger at the most beautiful swan. “Bring her to me.”
The henchmen don’t ask questions. He paid them specifically so they wouldn’t ask questions.
Even so, henchmen A glances at henchman B from the corner of his eye.
“Dude,” he says when they’re far enough way from the cackling sorcerer that they won’t be overheard, “why the hell does he want a swan?”
Henchman B shrugs. “What do these sorcerer types ever want?”
They near the water’s edge. “Okay, but,” Henchman A says, “he’s not going to try and fuck it, right? Because I’m sort of uncomfortable with beastiality–”
“Oh my god,” henchman B groans. “Just grab the swan.”
It takes a bit of cursing, flailing, and begrudging team work to grab the swan. When they finally manage to tuck her wings against her sides and grab hold of her neck to prevent her from biting she goes limp, making the strangest, saddest sound that the henchmen have ever heard.
“It’s okay,” Henchman A tells her bracingly, feet squelching as they haul her from the muddy lake’s edge to the sorcerer. “He’s probably not into beastiality. Very few people are.”
Henchmen B coughs and averts his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Right. Hey, you don’t think this was too easy? I mean, the other swans are just…watching. Us.”
Henchman A glances over his shoulder. Sure enough, floating on the lake are about two dozen swans, all curving their elegant necks so they can watch the fate of the swan hanging in between them. Rather than seeming alarmed, they seem…amused?
Henchman A looks away. “Nah, I’m sure it’s fine.”
The sorcerer jumps from foot to foot when they approach, clapping his hands together. “Good, good! Now just hold her there, hold her!”
The henchmen watch as the sorcerer visibly reigns himself in, breathing deeply. He begins to mutter in tongues for a very long time, an awkwardly long time. The henchmen glance at each other with their eyebrows raised. Sorcerers, man.
Suddenly the sorcerer’s head snaps up, eyes glowing a blazing black. He points his bejeweled finger at the swan who has remained suspiciously limp between them and hisses a short, ominous phrase.
Henchman A fights not to scream as a bolt of blue lightning flies at them. Henchman B drops his side of the swan and Henchman A follows suit just in time. The bolt strikes the swan and there’s a blinding flash as the sorcerer begins to cackle again.
“Behold!” he screams to the sky. “My bride!”
The spots clear from the henchmen’s eyes and they gape at the swan. Or rather where the swan should be. Instead there’s a woman there, crumpled on the ground, in a white, soft dress that’s already muddy.
She slowly lifts her head, her face pointed towards Henchman A. Her eyes snap open to reveal a swan’s eyes, a deep unending black that looks… not right on a human.
“Oh what the fuck,” Henchman A says.
The swan woman levers herself up. And up. And up. And up until she towers over them. There are thick cords of muscle at eye level, thick arms and a broad chest that lead to a very strong neck . Most of her body is hidden by her dress, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess that she’s built like a fucking tank.
She is very, very swan-like, henchman A realizes.
“Oh what the fuck,” henchman B says.
The woman smiles, showing off white, small teeth. “Welcome to the thunderdome, gentleman.”
Her fist feels like steel when it connects with Henchman A’s face and he thinks he hears his cheek break. He falls to the ground hard and doesn’t even try to stay conscious after a hit like that. The last thing he hears is what sounds like laughter from the direction of the lake.
Henchman B tries to run, but the swan woman is fast. She grabs the back of his collar and slings him to the ground, hissing and spitting. She hikes up her dress, showing built calves, and brings her heel slicing down onto his stomach. He reaches and chokes at the same time, moving belatedly to cover his head.
He needn’t bother. The swan woman seems to be done with him.
The sorcerer’s still standing in the spot from which he cast the spell, mouth agape. “B-but, you– you’re a swan? Wha–”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the swan woman says. Her voice is scratchy and growls like she’s swallowed glass. It sounds a bit like the hissing merriment happening on the lake. “I’m not a swan. I’m your wife.” She cracks her knuckles. “And it’s time for our honeymoon.”
The sorcerer picks up his robes and flees into the forest. The swan woman is fine with that. The swan who’d had to deal with this last week said that its more fun when they run.
She’s not surprised to find that he’s right.
OH MY GOD.
IT GOT BETTER.
Okay, okay, but what about when it goes the other way? A gander once fell in love with my father and followed him around boop-ooping in the most adorable way. This gander was a fierce warrior who bit everyone else (except my sister who BIT HIM BACK) but he just up and decided that Dad was his true love. This often happens a LOT with birds, especially flock birds like geese, ducks, and swans.
So what does the wizard do when a swan comes to him wanting to be turned into a human? Does he summon his daughters to help her dress and makeup? Does his wife give her tips on seducing men? Cu.z heaven help her if she gets advice from a giant nerd like a wizard “But I thought wizards were supposed to know everything!” the swan woman protested. “Nope!” The wizard replied cheerfully. “We get a pass on all the humanities at Uni so we aren’t distracted by unnecessary human interaction. The best I can tell you is that usually when I send folks off to get something they have to kill a dragon or save a princess or something. So go impress the object of your affections with grand deeds I guess!”
So swan woman goes off to woo her chosen, flexing her biceps thoughtfully as she went.
I know I just reblogged this but there’s MORE NOW!
she may be the greyest character in existence but boy is she fun to draw?? 🌺🌺🌺🌺 [ID: Art of Rose Quartz. She is drawn in shadow, holding a sword and a finger to her lips. Rose is a fat pale person with long pink ringlets and a long white dress, both of which are streaming out behind her. In the background are thorns wrapping around a pink diamond shape and breaking it apart. ID description by @theatricuddles, thank you!]
commissions!|kofi

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I love the "came back wrong" trope but from the opposite side.
Imagine you are dead. And then you are RIPPED from the embrace of decay into the world of the living again. Your memories are hazy and you don't recognize any of these people, but they act like they're close to you? Like they love you? So you try to get your memories back, to act like you belong here, but everybody tries to forget you died. And you can't. It is omnipresent. And just trying to grapple with that fact pushes the people who "love" you away, and they're incapable of understanding, and they're so confused, what's wrong N̶̄̀O̶͛͗T̷̉́ ̷͋͝Y̴̎̌Ȍ̴̈U̸̓R NÄM̴̃͑E̵̾̇? And you just need them to understand, you aren't that person! You aren't! You don't know who that person is! You don't know why any of this is happening, but they're unwilling to bend, they keep insisting you are that person, your memories will come back, everything will be normal again, and you want to scream and cry and claw yourself open to show them you're different. Your existence as a being wholly separate from whoever you "used to be" is a sin unto itself. All you can do is scrabble for life and to them, you're killing whoever they loved to do it.
just. lots of fun in that concept, you know?
Whenever I see someone refer to "Victorian era-" for places outside the UK I'm tempted to start saying shit like "Han Dynasty era Rome", "Soviet era Australia" etc
“Welcome to Soviet America, home of the McDonalds and Cocaine Cola. Long live Comrade Reagan.”
The Civil War, or as I like to call it, Late Tokugawa Period America
I know this is a joke but this helps me put a lot of historical periods into perspective.
"cowboys were a sort of itinerant warrior class common in meiji-era texas"
This is not like a fully completed thought but yk
So I've done my first aid + CPR a few times. And every single time I try and bring up scenarios for fat folks
Specifically like 'what if someone is too large for me to wrap my arms around then to do the heimleich'
And its incredibly rare I get a decent answer.
How absolutely insane is it that me, as a fat person, is asking how to have MY life saved or to save ANOTHER life, is an impossible feat if someone is fat.
Most of the time they tell me to 'just try anyways uwu'
There has got to be a better option.
From a first aid and CPR trainer, who is also fat.
The heimleich is scientifically as effective as slapping someone VERY hard on the back. The only reason it's so well taught is the man that invented it did a lot of great PR for himself. It's also a bit easier for smaller framed people to get the necessary force in, because people are often extremely scared to hurt people, even in life threatening situations.
With larger bodied people, whether they be fat, tall, muscular, etc. If you cannot get your arms around them, literally just slap the shit out of their shoulders. You want hard, open palmed slaps right in the center of the shoulders or slightly below.
If they are too tall for you to reach that high, guide them to lean over the back of a chair, and then slap slap slap slap slap.
It's been proven to be just as effective through many studies. It just doesn't have a trademarked name and a dramatic effect in film.
If you have to do CPR on a larger bodied person, again, fat, body builder, tall and broad, whoever, the trick to finding where you want to put your hands if going to be to take your hand and shove it in their armpit. No seriously. Put your hand in their armpit, then drag it in a straight line towards yourself until you're in the center of the chest, then put your other hand beneath that one. This is where you push. Then you are going to move the arm closest to you out of the way so you can get closer to them, and get the leverage you need to press down for compressions. The more of your body weight that is over your hands, the better the compression will be. Act like you are trying desperately to pack the last of your clothes in a suitcase, and just slam down hard on their chest.
They will make *horrible* noises. You might even break ribs.
But a broken rib is better than being dead.
One day, perhaps, other CPR and First Aid instructors will actually know and teach this shit. But the medical field is filled with people who don't know, don't care, or just outright hate fat people. So while this information won't fix your complaint, I do hope it helps someone out there with saving their loved ones, should it ever be needed.
Hey, thank you so much for this addition!!!
i think “video games aren’t really the violent child-corrupting threat some parents worry they are” and “certain circles of gamer culture are incredibly toxic and can lead people down dangerous/hateful ideological rabbit holes” are ideas that can absolutely coexist
Artificial violence is not actually a corrupting influence but hanging out with assholes sure is.
also, I think we could probably recognize that like… there is a difference between a game where you beat up a half demon alien cyborg or whatever, and a game partially funded by the US military that glorifies hyper-realistic military operations in a “middle east” coded setting, where everyone with brown skin is an enemy that needs to be gunned down. Like, those things are different.
jason scottish

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a comic about different types of storytellers