idontgetmemesijustrollwiththem

[idontgetmemesijustrollwiththem]

I LOVE YOU TRANSFEM ROBOTS I LOVE THE IDEA OF COMING INTO EXISTENCE AS A GENDERLESS BEING AND STILL ASSERTING YOUR FEMININE IDENTITY FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN THAT IT FEELS RIGHT AND IT MAKES YOU HAPPY

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breaking news! new beautiful photo of the best species of frog in the world just dropped

cochranella euknemos, 📸 nuqui_herping on instagram

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JamieP's music is so great. Songs about plurality. Robots in love. Being poisoned by your own creations both literally and metaphorically. Teto laying on the ground screaming "OHHHH GODDD MYYY PEEEEENNNIIIISSS." Long distance relationships. Literally just the plot of Deltarune Chapter 3.

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observation: among a certain subset of tumblr users, the term “blorbo” has become unchic, but the concept it describes is still important; and so it has been replaced with “The Character”

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*thinks about The Character too hard and starts taking poison damage*

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writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months

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robotic tgirl with all her status lights flashing bright red but insists that she's fine, she's just kinda tired, no that's a normal grinding sound for her to make, she's fine, it's fine, really you shouldn't worry about her, she's fine

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IT FUCKIN YURI DAAAAAAAAAAAY

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don't worry i got this *gets kidnapped by the god of the underworld*

it's getting too warm outside. I may need to intervene

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Sometimes i randomly remember "who are you? I love you too" and have to have a little cry about it

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You'd think having a fictive of a character who you are currently writing about would make the writing process easier. But Apparently having brainfog so bad we can't parse our own thoughts cancels out any insight we would get ):

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me and a friend have a running joke that glados never deleted caroline so she's just there saying things like "oh... oh you fumbled her hard..." and "maybe if you wanted her to love you you could have stopped trying to kill her" and glados is just so mad

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You have my full permission to be weird and inappropriate at me

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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

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can mutuals DM you?

Mutuals can throw me into a ceiling fan

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everything looks like a nail when you've got a hammer and every song is actually about the character when they're on your mind 24/7