Rusty artist attempting to get back into drawing semi regularly in between wrangling a tiny beast (toddler)
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It becomes very very evident when an author has never interacted with small children before. PLEASE stop writing 4 year olds with baby voices, I promise you they do not answer in short sentences the way a baby might. They can and Will start monologing
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you learn about a hummingbird species named “flame-throated sunangel” or “sparkling-tailed woodstar” or “purple-crowned fairy” or “shining sunbeam” or “sapphire-spangled emerald” or “amethyst-throated sungem” (these are all real hummingbirds). and you think “all the superlative descriptions of hummingbirds must be exaggerations”. then you learn that this hummingbird has like magnificent luminous aquamarine or sparkling-gold or iridescent flaming-orange feathers on its back, or glittering throat patches with mesmerizing color transitions from deep purple to vibrant pink. and maybe its maximum size is smaller than a bumblebee, with an adult weight of 0.09 ounces (this is a real hummingbird). maybe it hovers in-place in mid-air and can beat its wings at 200 beats per second (this is a real hummingbird). maybe multiple flower species have essential mutualistic relationships with the birds. maybe there is an entire lineage of so-called “flower mites”, tiny arachnids that use hummingbirds to travel between plants and can only feed on specific flower nectar pollinated by hummingbirds (this is real). or maybe the species lives only very high on the slopes of a single mountain where its beak is specially customized to feed on the nectar of a single flower species (real). and maybe there are two dozen or more species of hummingbirds which only live in small isolated pockets of high-elevation fog-shrouded cloud forests in very specific humid microhabitats in the misty and forested peaks of the tropical Andes or Mesoamerica. where every mountain range’s special combination of mist and fog and flowers and nectar creates a home for a unique bird. maybe they love sugar, just like me. and you’re like “this can’t be real”.
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i feel like the knowledge that there are some medical databases with free-to-use 3D scans of various human organs available for 3D printing would have drastically reduced tumblrs amount of bone stealing scandals. plus you can make ones that glow in the dark.


look at my glow in the dark humerus boy
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It becomes very very evident when an author has never interacted with small children before. PLEASE stop writing 4 year olds with baby voices, I promise you they do not answer in short sentences the way a baby might. They can and Will start monologing
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My glasses snapped in half and I’m stuck wearing $5 Walmart readers until my new ones get here. I hate them, but I’m not cool enough to just wear sunglasses (they’re prescription) all the time, so here we are.
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so. I uh. got Jeff to record something for me.
it's the summary of the first fic I ever wrote for DCC, cause it's what got me initially involved in the fandom and community (I was upfront about what it was and he still happily narrated it for me)
so anyway we now have audio of the AI calling Carl "baby boy"
WARNING: NSFW and highly kinky, implied consent issues but nothing explicit
anyway if y'all need me, I'll be getting cozy up in my grave cause I have died. I am dead and there is nothing left of me. my soul has departed from my body to join the local trout population.
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DCC AU where everything is exactly the same except Prepotente is a goose
He honked. Right in my goddamned ear.
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Ah damnit. I uploaded the wrong one, this one has her desperado tattoo


“Look how beautiful she is” Donut whispered. “She’s like a vision of pure elegance.”
Yo! It’s Elle Mcgibbons!
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“Look how beautiful she is” Donut whispered. “She’s like a vision of pure elegance.”
Yo! It’s Elle Mcgibbons!
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Happy birthday to meeeee.
For my birthday all I wanted was the biggest matcha latte I could get my hands on, chocolate chip cookies, to read some of the pineapple cabaret and to draw some. I’ve already managed most of those :)
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Shift change on the right shoulder. The last Velcro baby has joined the party.



I think they might have missed me while I was gone for a week. I missed them.
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I think they might have missed me while I was gone for a week. I missed them.
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