ryuucaro
Howdy
'Sup I'm Caro, I'm 25, and this is my personal blog where I reblog stuff I like and post my doodles.
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Eve (like New Years)
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elon musk had a third child with grimes that he kept secret until the release of his biography. he named it techno mechanicus
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In Japanese, they don’t say “moon,” they say “tsuki,” which literally translates to “moon,” and I think that’s how language works.
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reblog to give the person you reblogged from the strength to complete The Task™
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When I was a kid my family pretended to get raptured so I would think I was left behind on earth while they all went to heaven.
I was like 8 years old and my sister and mom had gotten really into the Left Behind novels (bible fan fic about the rapture). In the books when the rapture happened the clothes that people were wearing when they got raptured were left behind in neatly folded piles.
One day when I was getting home from school my family decided that they would leave piles of neatly folded clothes around the house, and then hide in the basement.
The intended effect was that I would get home and see the clothes then, think that my family had been raptured and that I wasn’t good enough to get into heaven… or something?
The problem was that I had never read these books, and didn’t really think about the rapture very often. There was no reason that I would see some laundry on the floor and think “The rapture happened and I’ve been abandoned by God! I’ll never see my family again!! Oh nooo!!!!”
I just sat down and watched cartoons and eventually my family got bored and revealed that they were all hiding in the basement.
It’s a good thing I didn’t understand the joke, otherwise that shit would have been traumatic.
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Well you see minors under 25 years old should not be allowed to get gender reassignment surgery because what if they go to the clinic but instead of giving them a normal penis the nurses mess up and give them the evil penis. That's irreversible
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Sorry for being such a slow writer, it's because I [remembers that self-deprecating jokes are harmful to my mental health and make everyone else uncomfortable] was attacked by dark spirits and washed up on the shore of a mysterious island with no recollection of who I was
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Hey everyone, please consider buying the 2024 itch.io Palestinian Relief Bundle- it's 373 games, game-making assets, tabletop roleplaying games, zines, and comics for a minimum of just 8 USD! They have a goal of 100,000 USD, and as of the time I'm writing this post, they have 8 more days to reach it.
Link will be in the reblog!
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I love this omg
My friend asked me to draw Haley playing stardew
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whatsso beautiful is i didnt evenknow taylor swif tdid something i thought we were all just hating because it feltright tonight
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Well, good luck, babe
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
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I don't have any glasses for the eclipse someone relay it to me when it happens
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I NEARLY SET THE KITCHEN ON FIRE I NEARLY SET THE KITECH ON FIRE OHHHHH MY GOD I HATED THAT
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When I see people sharing so much of their kids' lives, I think about that one time my child told a joke, I shared that joke with ONE FRIEND in a private conversation, and my child said "can you please ask me next time, before you tell people something about me?"
And, yes, I absolutely should. So I apologized, and now I ask.
"I love that video of you, can I show it to a friend?"
"Can I tell a friend about how clever you were just now?"
"Can I share this in the family group chat?"
"Can I show your art to grandma and grandpa?"
And it's not like my kids don't like when I share their jokes and puns and fun moments. They love it! But they want to have control over what I share with people. Even without their faces or their names. Even people we know and trust.
And they deserve to have that control.
My children are small so the examples are small. They wanted me to ask, so I ask. Just like being told to kiss my grandma's cheek when I was a kid was far from traumatizing, but I don't do that with my kids because it's a way to practice consent and become aware of bodily autonomy.
It gets both me and them in the habit of asking for consent and drawing boundaries and seeing the lines between their life and my life, their stories and my stories.
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