Himbo Beefcake, PhD

“Everyone has the same 24h” yeah right buddy say that to cavefish

almost all animals have set activity and rest patterns and this guy does whatever whenever

just FYI it's based on a short story called The Wicker Husband which I read here despite the small print because I could only find the opening elsewhere (the place it was originally published online is gone, but the author, Ursula Wills-Jones, says she hopes to see it in print soon!)

its been six days since monday i dont think its coming back. we might be safe for good this time

the thing they dont tell you about learning to "trust the process" is that you forget and relearn it every single time you make a new piece of art. unfortunately there is no cure either

Gives Tuxedo Mask vibes.

i'd go to this hotel for sure

welcome to Le Grande Historical Omegaverse may i take your bags oh what a delightful and unusual perfume

Watching my toddler figure out how to language is fascinating. Yesterday we were stumped when he kept insisting there was a “Lego winner” behind his bookshelf - it turned out to be a little Lego trophy cup. Not knowing the word for “trophy”, he’d extrapolated a word for “thing you can win”. And then, just now, he held up his empty milk container and said, “Mummy? It’s not rubbish. It’s allowed to be a bottle.” - meaning, effectively, “I want this. Don’t throw it away.” But to an adult ear, there’s something quite lovely about “it’s allowed to be a bottle,” as if we’re acknowledging that the object is entitled to keep its title even in the absence of the original function.

Another good post to read for those writing small human characters. 

My son was about three when he came to me in the middle of the day and said, “Mommy, there’s a knight behind the bush.” I thought he meant a toy knight or something. So I follow him outside and he goes, “Listen. Do you hear it? It’s night behind the bush.” It was a cricket. A cricket was standing in the little patch of shade under the bush, chirping. So, my son saw this dark area with accompanying nighttime sounds and decided, okay, well, that is a night right there. Their brains are incredible.

My little bean knows she’s two, constantly saying proudly ‘I’m two!’ And the other day she saw this very frail old lady who looked one foot in the grave, pulled a face and said ‘oh shiiiit. She’s three.’ I almost screamed.

OH SHIT SHE’S THREE