just saw that @theangrypomeranian and @br1ghtestlight give my old Zeke and Jimmy Jr drawing some more love again, thanks, it really make me giggles (theres has to be a least creepy way to say it) (do cis man giggle?) I'm rambling again.

Thankiu especially to @br1ghtestlight cause of course they inspire the piece itself, they just get so well how cheesy and dramtic this two are for each other.

Gods it makes me want to re-do the drawing, or mostly polish it. I just love this two dorks so much I wanna draw them eternally.

And beacuse this turn into a thanks for the suport letter (sorry) I also want to thank deeply to @goldendoodlerlockerlove and @babsvibes, this two are literally always liking even my silliest posts, guys you are truly the bests, I love you all.

@goldendoodlerlockerlove have supported even my rambling posts, thats love.

Wish to could give more back instead of just take. I swear I will strive to bring more and better drawings

(this started as a reblog, can you believe)

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.

You know a character has really hit their gender out of the park when they're popularly hced as transmasc AND transfemme

i have a slightly insane relationship with window curtains/blinds and i need to know if im alone

Grown adults but also Highschool bullies fr

SPIDERWEAVE GANG RISE UP

I keep seeing ads for cotton candy flavored vape pods on tumblr and it made me wonder…

Why/Why not in the tags?

I’m interested because I feel like when I was in high school/college in the mid-10s, almost nobody smoked - even if you otherwise had some pretty hard vices. I think it was considered not really worth it for something with such a small buzz. But now, idk. Maybe the advertisers are right to target people here because it’s just that popular again??

(Reblog for a bigger sample size etc etc.)

youtuber x streamer AU: Coming Out Stream Edition 💥

the one thing i wish is that Ladybug and Chat Noir had reasons to go "undercover" places. as civilians. where they are both staking out the same location but don't know each other's identities so it's always a disaster. they either get distracted because adrien and marinette bump into each other in strange places and end up having long awkward conversations instead of working, or, in adrienette-never-met sort of AUs, somehow end up suspecting each other every time. one time adrien disguises himself as a woman because he can't risk being seen as Adrien Agreste™ and marinette thinks she's met The Most Beautiful Woman in the World and has a bi panic until she finds out it was Chat fucking Noir and she's fucking pissed

ship ask game 😁1 Who would be first to to bite down anc consume the flesh of the other, euphoric in the taste and the heft and the slide of the blood 2. who is the ant and who is the ophiocordyceps fungus? 3. who is the dog and who is the master? 4 when the roles are blurred or reversed who would be first to die and how? would it be by bulletwound? the phallic blade? strangulation? 5. Cocaine or Heroin? 6. who licks up the other’s cigarette ash? 7 who is julius caesar and who is brutus? 8. who is jesus and who is judas? 9. did jesus want it? did julius caesar know it was coming? are the betrayed ever proud? 10. who is irrumatus and who is irrumans? who is pedicatus and who is pedicans? 11. did they ever kiss and why not? 12 if they are two sides of the same coin who is heads and who is tails? 13. and if the coin was the holey dollar? 14. And if the dog bit back? 15 and if the dog bit back? 16 and if the dog bit back? 17 and if the dog bit back? 18 and if the dog bit back? 19 and if the dog bit back? 20. Who buys the other flowers?🥰

assorted brainrot from like 2 months ago

got inspired to make a TF2 Mercenary Professionalism Tier List the other week, and decided to properly chart it

big fan of this tweet

no actually I'm gonna give this its own post.

get yourself a USB stick from any dollar store, install ubuntu with persistent storage on it. There is literally no reason not to, and it means that you now have a little computer of your very own that no one except those who physically get their hands on your USB stick can use (and you can password lock the OS) and that you can run from literally almost any PC with USB ports.

If you're a kid who needs privacy, someone in trouble who just needs their own machine to play and talk to people on, somebody who doesn't have the money to get your own computer, etc etc etc, do this. Actually do this even if you do have your own computer. There is literally no reason to not have a little backup system on a thumb drive that you can use anytime. If your main computer starts acting up or gets fucked over by an update or something? Just plug in your thumb drive and use your computer from your handy-dandy mini Ubuntu installation.

EDIT: I have seen many radfems reblogging this post. I just want yall to know that op here is a nonbinary they/he lesbian and that if you touched my post you now have gross trans cooties on your blog forever and that I hope they infect and kill you. <3