#is also the bane of my existence sometimes

[clairehadenough]

I’m shocked you’re not in an asylum yet. All you do is act like a maniac attacking strangers on the internet. Such a strange way to live your life. You act like ‘you’ve had enough’ when pretty much everyone around you has had enough of YOU.

Your family must hate you and I bet you’re the classic weird loner no one wants to be friends with 💯

Omg how did you know?😭

My family hates me so much, they’ve actually built a box to put me in so they don’t have to look at me. They give me food 3 times a day and I have 2 bathroom breaks per 24h. It’s very hard to hold it in sometimes but I’m getting there. I am really the bane of their existence but m*rder is illegal so they don’t have any other choice, bless them.

And you’re also totally right re friends, I tried once to befriend a little spider that I found in my box but he didn’t want to have anything to do with me, he said he’d rather befriend a lizard 😢

[whatimdoing-here]

Happy Saturday folkssssss.

[evertidings]

your flavour text is so yummy thanks for feeding us

as another anon said, mother is mothering.

[skitskatdacat63]

This is very random but. I think a lot about the name of my oc Rüß. It was originally just a stand-in name and was spelled "Russ." But I didn't want people to pronounce it "Ruh-ss" so I changed it to "Ruß" and then to "Rüß" bcs that's the way to pronounce it but it was also fun to use special characters. But then ended up at the same place I started: some people still won't know how to pronounce her name bcs the ü and ß 😭 I think my one friend called her "Rub" in her head for a while. But it is now eternally her name and I don't call her by her full name :)

[monsterbisexual]

my body isnt trying to torment me even when there Are actual real issues!! i wont let my extreme desire to be a completely nonphysical entity ruin my day!!!! i saw some posts on here abt ppls dogs lets focus on THAT

[bednbunfast]

wip that i will be finishing later

im just very tired rn

[glamgoblin]

The problem with me being a multishipper is that there are approximately 170,383,282 FF7 characters and absolutely none of them are good enough for Genesis Rhapsodos

[seafoam-taide]

one of my biggest character flaws is i can never tell how much pasta to put in the pot. the difference between the hard uncooked noodles and the finished noodles is too great and my brain cannot comprehend this. i get what should be a regular portion of noodles in my hands and go wait. this looks so small. let me double it and then i have too much fuckingspaghetti

[m0e-ru]

desperately nailing boards on my doors and windows carpal tunnel in my wrists back pain from sitting like a shrimp bags under my eyes hair I haven't combed out in days leaving informative pamphlets outside and hiding behind glass with a pot as a helmet and a rusty wrench in my hands shaking weeping terrified crying

[usernamenotunlocked]

So I usually write a few chapters/works ahead of what I post and then upload them over time. Sometimes I leave a few untouched for me to come back to and edit later, and even though those updates aren’t as consistent as I’d like it’s unfortunately a habit I’ve fallen into.

Anyways I went to edit something last night and the cursor was just. Blinking. Taunting me. Laughing at me.

So… yeah. :)

[elvenroach]

sometimes being a film major is fun i got to see eraserhead in theaters for free which is cool i suppose

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

Considering adding "OP is aroace, do not tag any two characters shown interacting in her posts as their ship name" at the bottom of every fandom post I make

[pipskippy]

sorry idk if you’ve answered this before but! how/what do you use to scan your art and what’s the process like if you don’t mind sharing … i love all your work, it’s so charming and makes me smile <3

help i didnt see the notification for this so sry if this was sent forever ago. also thank you so so much im really glad to hear that!!!<3

what i usually do is take a photo with my phone in a well lit spot, preferably in sunlight, and then edit it to look more accurate and also better (usually lowering contrast, upping brightness, saturation, cropping, etc) in the photos app. or sometimes the genius scan app for cropping or for lineart-only drawings. because that app has a black-and-white filter that works well. if i’m removing the background i do it in procreate which like.has not the best selection tool but i am the pretender. and then i erase anywhere the selection missed 🫡 also, if i can be bothered to get my laptop and for commissioned work i use photoshop to remove the background. it has a better selection tool…

[liesonthefloordramatically]

one of these days I should put disjoint and a flower blooming into a series together but I haven’t because

titles...the bane of my existence...

I am very cantankerous about the fact that the reason disjoint has so much higher of a hit count than a flower blooming is because disjoint’s tagging tricks people into thinking that it’s a ship fic whereas a flower blooming’s does not so I am very like *crosses arms* fine, then I guess you don’t get to know about the other fic in the series!

[rachel-614]

Okay, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.

In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).

As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:

By which I mean literally one result.

For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.

But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:

(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)

We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.

Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.

Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.

After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.

Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?

The day after I sent the email I got this response:

My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”

The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.

A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:

(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)

At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.

So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!

So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.

…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.

Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…

Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:

THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.

My dad found it! He found the book!!

Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.

In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.

(Edit: See here for part 2!)

[cinnabeat]

coding was literally so awful and literally all i was coding was like. math equations or some shit i dont remember but it was so awful i hated it it was so time consuming my respect to bitches that code