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waaah this is so sweet!! ty :3

favorite color: purple !!

currently reading: scouring ao3 for l4b fics that are up my alley (i am So open to recs),, other than that i started the dawn of yangchen not too long ago but havent touched it in a while!!! the kyoshi books were soo good ive gotta get back in there

last song: i cant stop listening to illegal by pink panthress recently. she Gets it i think

last film: sonic 3 LOLL although i REALLY wanted to catch sinners,, not enough to go back to my job on my day off mind u..... but enough to feel bad i missed it!

last tv series: i have been trying fruitlessly to sit down and finish iwtv Forever. its so fucking GOOD but i just Cant make myself watch tv,, (although i guess smackdown counts?? theyve got me locked tf in for the off chance that my guys will get a few minutes of screentime LOL!! im historically awful at keeping up with tv but liveblogging over on @fraxium w the girlies has been a lot of fun!!)

sweet, salty, or savory: savory :^)

tea or coffee: i love them both but coffee!! its me and my iced mocha against the world

working on: plugging away at a few fics, and also getting into gear for ARTFIGHTTT THIS YEARR im SO hyped

not tagging anyone BUT if you see this and want to participate please do!! 💞💞

nine mutuals I’d like to know better game

Thank you so much to my dear friend @daltreysroger for tagging me! 🫂

favorite color: Purple!

currently reading: New And Selected Poems Volume I by Mary Oliver

last song: What is And What Should Never Be- Led Zeppelin

last film: The Blues Brothers

last tv series: Monty Python’s Flying Circus

sweet, salty, or savory? Sweet!

tea or coffee? Both!

working on: A poem

Tagging 🏷️: @hammettallica @libramooon @patlennon @stardewkiddo @dreamstateexpo @zippcity @queeninstilettos @meiqiwi @seoplushie and whoever else would like to do this!

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i was drafting a post that said “a single boba tea can replace up to two meals if you are pure of heart” and the reason i didn’t post it is because as i was typing those words i got so dizzy i felt like i was being abducted by aliens

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Part 6 in my weekly poster series for 2025

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one william dollars isnt even that much money anymore due to the flation

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Flirting telepathically tonight so if you get nightmares its just me

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Ever since I was a little girl I’ve loved information

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u r only mad because ur demise was foreshadowed far in advance and all you can do is watch the narrative unfold until your plotline comes to an end. your sooo owned right now

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FIRST step to enjoying any media is getting attached to the character whose suicidal tendencies are the most obvious

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having ocs is so fucked .... i miss them so bad but im the guy who has to create new content. but im sleepy

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when people like your OCs it is truly one of the best feelings ever. but when they also UNDERSTAND your OCs??? When they say or do something that just makes you go "oh they get it." UNBEATABLE.

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once i figure out how to do anatomy and facial expressions and proportion and foreshortening and basic perspective and color theory and composition then youll all be sorry

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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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trams are like if a train and a bus had a baby and then the bus abandoned the family when the tram was just a baby and the train raised it as a hardworking single mother

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"are you normal about-" no I'm an insane pervert

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ok not to be that guy but like. labor rights and working class rights can coexist with 24h services and late amenities. its certainly hard to do so without worker exploitation in this political and social environment, it’s not a conflict likely to resolve overnight. but 24h services are important and especially valuable to those of us that are disabled or are on a different circadian rhythm. in fact more professional, health, and government services should be available or at least possible to work on asynchronously (if applicable) during late or odd hours, while workers also get sufficient pay for their labor and proper consistent scheduling. this would be much easier on the workers with night schedules if the entire professional world didn’t grind to a halt at 5pmEST

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every so often the discourse comes around again that basically boils down to “is it feminist for a woman to want men to be attracted to her” and it’s like. no, it’s not. it’s also not anti feminist. it’s not relevant. it’s nothing. a woman wanting to have sex with men has nothing to do with feminism. being a lesbian or celibate is not “more feminist” than being a straight woman. the point was always “women should not have to dress in a way that is attractive to men solely in order to be acknowledged by them at all” not “women should never dress in a way that is attractive to men for any reason.” sometimes a woman wants men to want to have sex with her. that’s not anti feminist. that’s average. it’s also not feminist just because it’s her choice to do it. it is not related. feminism is about women’s human rights. that doesn’t mean it’s a feminist act every time a woman makes a choice.