#look up tutorials on youtube and stuff

[bigmammallama5]

Do you have any tips for taking photos of physical objects? I like making things, but taking photos of them is the worst :(

Sure! I also struggle with taking pictures of stuff, but I can give you two big suggestions (and I'll try to keep my explanation brief for now, but you are always welcome to come back and ask for clarification!). As always, these suggestions are not rules, so if it goes against what you know or have been taught or what works best for you, feel free to disregard it lol.

Lighting, and set-up (which I will roll camera angle into).

You don't need anything big and fancy to take nice pictures of what you make. You don't need a big DSLR camera or box lights or a crazy image processing program. You can take great pictures of your stuff right at home with things you already have. I know a lot of potters who take decent pictures of their work in a corner of their living room with a simple paper sweep (poster board), one directional light (one guy I know even uses just a lamp and points it towards his pots), and something to take pictures with whether that's your phone or a little point and shoot.

Lighting. A good rule of thumb is to not back-light your work as your primary light source*. Make sure your primary light source is in front and pointing at the thing you're trying to photograph. You can even kick it off to the side for a nice three-quarters effect! You CAN have some back-lighting as long as is is acting as your fill (secondary light source) OR if you're shooting outdoors. If you want to go for natural lighting, gray days are actually quite nice as they offer even lighting (though if you want that bright sun, go for it!). *That is not to say back-lit things are bad, just that they aren't necessarily going to show off your work unless it's designed to be that way.

Set-up. This can be as simple or as complex as you want it to be! Figure out how you want to shoot your work, and then figure out how to light the space. If you want something clean, create a light box. Use a box with a white/light gray sheet draped inside to make a contained space, or pick a corner of a room and either drape a sheet or use some poster board to make a little box you can easily put up and take down. If you want something that's more set up, I have actually used my work space as my backdrop. Show the tools you are using, maybe some material, and build a composition around your piece! That takes a little more effort but can be quite nice.

As for taking the actual picture, I have found that I personally like to have it slightly up at a shallow angle so it's not straight on or too high looking down on the piece. You can easily create an unflattering angle, but there are little nuances to taking pictures of those more extreme angles. It's just not what I'm interested in lol. Have your piece nice and centered at the angle you like, and make sure the camera is focusing on your work as much as possible and not the surrounding environment (I won't get into depth of field and all that, but that's worth keeping in mind). You can do that with some simple settings our technology has these days! (Also side note: if you are using your phone, clean the camera lens on your shirt first. It's crazy how easily that little thing can get dirty and give you smudgy looking photos lol)

I'll stop myself there, but hopefully these suggestions can help you feel more confident in taking pictures of your work! As always, feel free to ask more questions if you have any.

[lezbianz]

okay so like, when you lose a lot of weight, the world and everyone in it becomes suddenly way way nicer to you. people treat you better across the board, from strangers to family to friends; you get opportunities you wouldn’t have otherwise gotten; doctors take you seriously; etc etc etc. anyone who has gone through any form of major weight loss can tell you this.

& it is absolutely fucking insane how many people who have gone through this weight loss respond to this fact of the world not with horror and disgust at how bad society hates fat people, but rather with a sort of missionary-style evangelizing to everyone around them that they need to lose weight, too, because life just gets so much better!!!

i don’t even know what to say about it. just like, jesus fucking christ.

[lovmura]

Do you know any good tutorials for rigging?

hiya!!!!! if ur starting from absolutely no knowledge of live2d i genuinely recommend going thru Live2D's official tutorial series, its a bit old now but it does teach the fundamentals that make understanding the program way easier (and its how i learned along with brian tsui's old tutorials) as for indie made tutorials i like to give people fafrotsky's model resource guide VTResources as a big ol list of various tutorials all in one place, theres entire youtube channels recommended in there a personal favorite resource that i refer back to often is one of cillia's model examples (paid resources but well worth it imo) good luck!

[jackabbot]

love how I will look up the smallest details for a fic, doing deep-dive searches into professions, laws, procedures and regulations... just so I can say: I did look it up before I threw it all out the window, because it's fiction and it didn't work with the story I needed to tell

[slaughterspine]

poor sylens, he would have loved Google <\3

Poor Sylens… he’s truly a man born in the wrong era. He would have crushed it as like, a research scientist or a college professor in the time of the Old Ones, but instead, he was born into Post-Apocalyptic Robot Dinosaur Hell, and now he has to wrestle a fucking mechanical crocodile every time he wants to get his knowledge on.

[leafatlaw]

actually feeling really normal about this game, I have been playing for more than 10 hours… maybe more like 12…

[blissfulvixen]

How to Appear More Attractive

And Change Your Mindset

When attempting to become more attractive, stop letting embarrassment take control. Don’t be afraid to try new things, new hair, new clothing, anything. Post your life. Make a change in your life. Sticking to the most comfortable things will only weigh you down and leave you with unfulfillment of what you could’ve been. If stuff goes wrong, learn from the experience and either way, you took control of yourself. You don’t need people to validate you to feel worthy or “okay” with something. You have the control.

Start to make time for yourself. Make the time and effort to clean yourself up and become flawless. Two very know yet successful needs are drinking water and having around 8 hours of sleep. By doing these, your skin and body will thank you. You’re having time to relax and cleanse your body. It will leave you feeling fresher, motivated and far more productive.

I really recommend getting a gua sha. Since using one, my face has changed instantly. They’re so affordable yet will work within the first few uses. If needed, look at YouTube videos for tutorials on how to gua sha!

Also, I’d really recommend taking the time to learn about your face shape and the makeup that suits it. Some people feel as if no matter what they try, makeup doesn’t suit them yet the application, product, how matte/glowy it is, can really affect the result of your makeup. Pinterest and YouTube are really good places to look for ideas and in depth tutorials!

The way you present yourself really matters. Having a slouched back or hanging head is SO unattractive. You should aim to achieve a “model of duty” stance. Firstly, roll your shoulders back, lift your head up to the perfect level and remain. This keeps your back straight, your neck engages and you end up with the perfect, effortless look. This also shows confidence and a perfect presentable look.

[stellophiliac]

how to build a digital music collection and stuff

spotify sucks aaaass. so start downloading shit!!

file format glossary

.wav is highest quality and biggest

.mp3 is very small, but uses lossy compression which means it's lower quality

.flac is smaller than .wav, but uses lossless compression so it's high quality

.m4a is an audio file format that apple uses. that's all i really know

downloading the music

doubledouble.top is a life saver. you can download from a variety of services including but not limited to apple music, spotify, soundcloud, tidal, deezer, etc.

i'd recommend ripping your music from tidal or apple music since they're the best quality (i think apple music gives you lossless audio anyway. .m4a can be both lossy and lossless, but from the text on doubledouble i assume they're ripping HQ files off apple music)

i also love love love cobalt.tools for ripping audio/video from youtube (they support a lot of other platforms too!)

of course, many artists have their music on bandcamp — purchase or download directly from them if you can. bandcamp offers a variety of file formats for download

file conversion

if you're downloading from apple music with doubledouble, it spits out an .m4a file.

.m4a is ok for some people but if you prefer .flac, you may wanna convert it. ffmpeg is a CLI (terminal) tool to help with media conversion

if you're on linux or macOS, you can use parameter expansion to batch convert all files in a folder. put the files in one place first, then with your terminal, cd into the directory and run:

for i in *.m4a; do ffmpeg -i "$i" "${i%.*}.flac"; done

this converts from .m4a to .flac — change the file extensions if needed.

soulseek

another way to get music is through soulseek. soulseek is a peer-to-peer file sharing network which is mainly used for music. nicotine+ is a pretty intuitive (and open-source) client if you don't like the official one.

you can probably find a better tutorial on soulseek somewhere else. just wanted to make this option known

it's bad etiquette to download from people without sharing files of your own, so make sure you've got something shared. also try to avoid queuing up more than 1-2 albums from one person in a row

tagging & organizing your music

tagging: adding metadata to a music file (eg. song name, artist name, album) that music players can recognize and display

if you've ripped music from a streaming platform, chances are it's already tagged. i've gotten files with slightly incorrect tags from doubledouble though, so if you care about that then you might wanna look into it

i use musicbrainz picard for my tagging. they've got pretty extensive documentation, which will probably be more useful than me

basically, you can look up album data from an online database into the program, and then match each track with its file. the program will tag each file correctly for you (there's also options for renaming the file according to a certain structure if you're into that!)

there's also beets, which is a CLI tool for... a lot of music collection management stuff. i haven't really used it myself, but if you feel up to it then they've got extensive documentation too. for most people, though, it's not really a necessity

how you wanna organize your music is completely up to you. my preferred filestructure is:

artist > album > track # track

using a music player

the options for this are pretty expansive. commonly used players i see include VLC, foobar2000, clementine (or a fork of it called strawberry), and cmus (for the terminal)

you can also totally use iTunes or something. i don't know what audio players other systems come with

i personally use dopamine. it's a little bit slow, but it's got a nice UI and is themeable plus has last.fm support (!!!)

don't let the github page fool you, you don't have to build from source. you can find the releases here

click the "assets" dropdown on the most recent release, and download whichever one is compatible with your OS

syncing

if you're fine with your files just being on one device (perhaps your computer, but perhaps also an USB drive or an mp3 player), you don't have to do this

you can sync with something like google drive, but i hate google more than i hate spotify

you can get a free nextcloud account from one of their providers with 2GB of free storage. you can use webDAV to access your files from an app on your phone or other device (documents by readdle has webDAV support, which is what i use)

disroot and blahaj.land are a couple providers i know that offer other services as well as nextcloud (so you get more with your account), but accounts are manually approved. do give them a look though!!

if you're tech-savvy and have an unused machine lying around, look into self-hosting your own nextcloud, or better yet, your own media server. i've heard that navidrome is a pretty good audio server. i unfortunately don't have experience with self-hosting at the moment so i have like zero advice to give here. yunohost seems to be a really easy way to manage a server

afterword

i don't know if any of this is helpful, but i just wanted to consolidate my personal advice in one place. fuck big tech. own your media, they could take it away from you at any moment

[castielscaplan]

Heartbeat

Summary: dean's in love with your belly.

Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Protective!Dean, Established Relationship, pregnant reader, Mild language, pregnancy themes, soft!Dean

WC: 627

Read on ao3!

A/N: idea came from a prompt from this list!

-

Your feet hurt.

That was the first thing Dean noticed when you walked through the bunker’s door—shoes in hand, a scowl between your brows, and your other hand bracing the small of your back. The pregnancy was nearing its final stretch, and your body had made its rebellion known in every possible way.

Dean was across the war room in two strides. “Hey, hey, come here.” He swept the shoes from your grip and helped you ease into a chair like you were made of porcelain. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I went to the store, not war,” you huffed. “I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

Dean crouched beside you, hands already on your calves, fingers moving to rub the arches of your aching feet like it was second nature. He was obsessed with touching you lately—not in a weird way but more like he couldn’t believe you were real. Couldn’t believe this was real.

“I just don’t like you carrying anything heavier than a craving,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your knee before looking up at you with those damn forest-green eyes. “You okay?”

You softened. Always did with him. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He nodded, reaching up to cradle your belly with both hands. Your shirt was stretched tight over it now—his shirt, really, soft cotton with an old Zepp logo, permanently claimed by you months ago. His thumbs traced light circles on either side of the bump, reverent.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I can feel her kick now. Stronger than yesterday.”

You smiled. “She’s definitely your kid. Already throwing punches.”

His jaw ticked slightly, and there was that look again—the one you were starting to recognize. It wasn’t just awe. It was something deeper. He looked at you like he was scared the world would take you from him. Like he was scared of being happy.

“I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up,” he confessed, voice low. “Like this is all some dream I’m not allowed to have. You. Her. A home.”

You reached down, fingers sliding into his hair. “It’s not a dream, Dean. You built this.”

He leaned into your hand. “No. You built this. I just… I’m the guy who got lucky.”

You both were quiet for a moment. Then his hand shifted again, thumb brushing just under the curve of your bump.

“I’ve got this list,” he said suddenly, eyes still fixed on your stomach.

You blinked. “List?”

“Of things I wanna do before she’s born. Stuff I wanna be ready for. I, uh…” He looked a little sheepish. “I read all the books. Sam caught me watching a diaper tutorial on YouTube the other night. Thought I was watching porn or something.”

You laughed, heart swelling.

Dean grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanna be good at this. Better than I ever had. You know?”

You cupped his cheek. “You already are. She’s lucky, Dean. We both are.”

His eyes shimmered just a bit. He didn’t cry—Dean Winchester didn’t cry, at least not where you could see it—but you felt it in the way he kissed your palm, slow and grateful.

He stood and pulled you into his arms, careful but close. “Swear to God, Y/N, I’ve faced monsters, angels, Lucifer himself—but nothing terrifies me more than the idea of not doing right by you and her.”

You leaned your head against his chest, hearing the steady thump of his heart.

“Then stop worrying,” you said softly. “You’re already doing everything right.”

His arms tightened just a little.

And when the baby kicked again, right against his ribs, you felt him smile against your hair like it was the best moment of his entire life.

[asce-of-hearts]

repair man toji...

You remember that one time someone told you that before living alone, you should get a small tool kit and learn the basics of repairing electrodomestics.

Well, that clearly is shit advice, because now you're sitting in front of your broken kitchen sink, pieces everywhere. So, with your pride torn to shambles, you finally decide to call a repair service. Fortunately, the lady on the phone is sweet enough to understand your urgency, and sends someone right away.

As soon as you hear the knock on your door, you're running towards the door. You expect to find a regular plumber, instead, you're faced with two pecs the size of your face. And you look up, up, up, feeling smaller and smaller as you finally find the face of the guy the agency sent. He's big, no, big is an understatement. He is enormous, gigantic, barely able to not hit himself on the head as he looks down at you. His hair is messy, black bangs that cover his forehead. The uniform is too tight on him, you can tell by the way it almost pleads for you to free it of its suffering as it tries its hardest to stay together while gripping his enormous arms. And his eyes, mossy green. He has that look that he's done with everything, maybe he is, the way he cocks a brow and that scar over his lip stretches as he speaks.

"Did you need the service or...?" His words almost make you jump. With a quick nod you apologize and let him in, guiding him to the kitchen and showing him the little mess you made.

"I- I tried to follow a tutorial on youtube but... that clearly didn't work." You mumble, a sheepish smile over your face. He smirks, gently pushing you aside as he crouches down to examine your previous work.

"Don't worry 'bout that. I'll take care of it." He says, and gets to work immediately. Your eyes zero on his broad back, the way you can almost see the muscles as he loosens and fastens and does stuff to the intricate machinery of the pipes underneath your sink. How the veins in his arms pop up.

"So, uhm... you like your work as... as a repair guy..." You awkwardly try and make small talk, he only gives you a small hum in response.

"Not particularly." He says, and you have to force yourself to not look further downwards at where his pants seem to be stretched to the limit.

"Ah. That- That sucks?"

"Pays the bills. Couldn't strive for anything better anyways."

You're frozen in place, not knowing what else to do or say to distract yourself from the thoughts that plague your mind. The angel and the devil over your shoulders both screaming the same thing.

FUCK HIM. FUCK THIS GUY. FUCK HIM!!!!

His work ends sooner than you would've liked. And he leaves as soon as you pay him. His eyes lingering on places they shouldn't enough for you to notice, just a bit. Slightly disappointed, you make your way to the kitchen sink. Now working perfectly.

But you can for sure manage to break it again. Can't you?

The next thing to misteriously break after his service is your shower. You call the same agency, and plead for them to send the same guy. Toji, you got his name through the phone, and he will quickly be on his way.

Strangely, a pair of lacy, black underwear is left on the bathroom floor. Oh, how clumsy on your behalf, really. He gives you a playful smile that tries to disguise the lusty intent behind his eyes, and you can see the bulge that has you salivating. Surely it won't do no harm to have him stay for lunch, right? After all he has been just so good, and coming two days in a row must be an exhausting task.

So, when it's the fourth time this week that something has broken inside your apartment, and you have gotten his personal phone to have him come aid you. He decides to teach you himself.

"You wanna know how to repair a bed?" He grins, predatory. And your eyes widen, confused.

"My bed isn't—"

Those words have died long inside your mouth long ago as Toji pounds your little hole with the force of a man who hates you. Even when it's quite the opposite, he hates the little games you have played, when you could've had him in your bed since the very beginning. He would've never refused a slutty little thing like you.

"You were sayin'?" He grunts in your ear, slapping your ass hard as he forces your face further into the mattress with his hand. Ass up, face down, just how he likes it. And he continues, the incessant plapping and slapping of wet skin against wet skin making everything around you spin in circles that have you oh so dizzy. And his hands, they rest on your scalp, pulling you to force your back into the lewdest arch as he makes you squirt over your already soiled sheets. Cum leaking from your pretty cunt in industrial quantities. "Maybe I'll hafta fix you this time. You're so stupid and cock-drunk already." Another smack to your ass, and you're howling as your insides constrict his cock with force, not wanting him to pull out ever again.

The rough pads of his fingers come to toy with your clit, to squeeze and pull and pinch at your pretty nipples. He's grinning, he's a wolf, he's ruthless.

"You like ex-convict cock that much, dirty girl?" He croons, and you nod, drooling as he continues to ravage you at a fast and hard pace. "Say it, mama. Tell me how much you love my dick."

"I- I luv— So good, Toji—!" You manage to slurr out, making him thrust harder if that was even possible. Pumping another load inside your womb. The tip of his cock smooching your cervix time and time again.

And then you hear it, and you scream when the bed gives in to his force and finally collapses on the ground. At least you're safe and secure in Toji's arms. Breathing heavily, sweaty, sticky, and his.

"This... this service is on the house." He murmurs, staring at your pretty, fucked out face.

TAG LIST

TOJI M.LIST

TAGGING: @sunnymmoon  @lilithlunas    @eroscastle @goldenglow149 @lurexin @stranger00001 @kitzusune @mizzhellsingsstuff @lakxcpsta @coolnekochan9961 @notreallyablogger @lilyalone @oliviathatgirl @hannas16 @mimihaitani @raxshall @ayn-yurbestie @janeisnotonline @architectofsuffering @mrstraffy @thatoneweirdkidattheplayground @poopooindamouf @samstrav @yutterfly @staarflowerr @nanamiswife @majissunshine @privthemis @starberryzos @waywardfanwinner @darlingken @tenaciousavenueavenue @l-lailiy @bluemailhiot @kaylarilla @snowsilver2000 @blackbangs @nutz4nainaiiii @mallowryblog @whatsupbishs @vex-ria @amayaaaxx @sofi4dsam @moemeowsalot @lazypostfandomer

[cheeseatlantic]

KNOTS AND GRACE

It started the same way most things did for Simon: silently.

No declarations. No dramatic moment of revelation. Just a lingering glance in the low hum of early morning, the way your shoulders curled in on yourself like tired wings, the deep sigh you exhaled as you stared at your own reflection with dread.

You didn’t say it out loud, but Simon could feel it. How the strands of your hair—once lively and part of your expression—now hung like a weight. Too much to manage. Too much everything.

He watched you tie it back with a trembling hand, loose and lopsided, then abandon the brush entirely when your fingers snagged in a tangle near the nape. The irritation in your eyes made his chest ache. Not because you were angry—but because he could tell you’d been doing it for weeks. Too tired, too overstimulated, too worn down to untangle one more thing.

You didn’t ask for help.

You never did.

But that didn’t stop him.

⸻

He bought the wig online.

A perfect match—length, texture, density. The same subtle wave, the same specific sheen of your real hair. It had taken hours of scrolling and three different sample orders, but eventually, Simon found it.

He didn’t tell you. Not when he signed for the box and quietly slipped it into his office, not when he pulled it out that first night and stared at it like it might grow fangs.

It felt ridiculous at first.

He’d cleaned weapons with his eyes closed. Assembled rifles blindfolded. But this?

A wig. A brush. A comb with teeth so fine it made him squint.

This was intimate. And fragile. Terrifying in ways combat never touched.

But you were worth it.

⸻

He watched YouTube videos in the dark.

Hours of tutorials whispered through his headphones while you slept beside him, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Women and men and animated hands showing how to detangle without ripping strands, how to deep-condition and twist hair for sleeping, how to style with care.

He paused. Rewatched. Practiced with gloves first—then without.

He started simple: washing the wig in the sink with the recommended shampoo. Rinsing gently. Letting it drip dry like something sacred. The first time he brushed it wet, he almost cried when a clump came out.

“Too rough,” he muttered to himself, adjusting his grip.

The next time, he took it slower.

Eventually, it became a ritual.

⸻

Some nights, you’d find him staying up late with a notebook in his lap, scribbling what looked like tactical planning—except the scribbles were sketches of braid patterns and product names underlined twice.

“Work stuff,” he grunted if you asked.

But you knew something was different.

He smelled faintly like argan oil. There were towels missing from the bathroom. And once, you found a tiny butterfly clip in his shirt pocket.

Still, you didn’t push.

Simon would tell you when he was ready.

⸻

The first time he touched your hair with intention, it was gentle.

You’d had a hard day—he could tell before you even walked through the door. Your jaw was tight, your voice low, your hands twitching as you peeled off your coat and sank onto the couch like a puppet with its strings cut.

He didn’t ask what was wrong. He just moved behind you quietly, sat on the arm of the couch, and murmured, “C’mere, love.”

You blinked up at him, eyes already glassy.

He nodded once, opening his hand.

It held a wide-tooth comb.

“I practiced,” he said, voice rough.

And you melted.

⸻

He started slow. One section at a time. Hands firm but careful, tugging gently to detangle, using the exact oil you always ran out of.

You didn’t speak—not because you didn’t want to, but because your throat tightened up the moment his fingers slid through your hair.

He knew how to part it. How to twist without pulling. How to ease out knots with a patience that made your chest ache.

“How long’ve you been doing this?” you whispered.

Simon didn’t answer right away. His breath was steady, his focus deep.

“Long enough,” he said at last. “Just didn’t want to do it wrong.”

Your lip trembled.

He pressed a kiss to your temple without pausing his work.

“I wanted to make it easy for you.”

⸻

After that, it became part of your rhythm.

He washed your hair in the kitchen sink, draped you in towels, and massaged your scalp like he was unraveling tension with his bare hands. He air-dried it with care, fanned it out across your shoulders while he braided or twisted it with methodical grace.

Sometimes, you’d fall asleep like that, half-draped over his legs while he worked in silence. His fingers always steady. His attention never straying.

He never said much when he did it.

Didn’t need to.

Because this was the language Simon Riley spoke best: quiet hands, careful preparation, devotion stitched into the smallest of routines.

⸻

One night, you caught him mid-process.

Not with your hair—but with the wig.

He was hunched at his desk in his office, shirtless, the back of his neck damp with sweat as he twisted section after section under the dim light. His hands were slick with leave-in conditioner, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration.

You didn’t mean to interrupt.

But when you stepped in, he didn’t startle.

He just looked up.

Held your gaze.

And said, “Didn’t want to forget how to do it right.”

The wig sat on a stand. Nearly identical to your own head of hair—except this one wore a loose, intricate braid.

Your throat closed up.

“Simon…”

He set the comb down gently, stood, and stepped close.

“I wanted to be good at it,” he said, voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t have to do it yourself when you’re too tired to hold your arms up.”

You blinked hard. The wig. The research. The oils he’d restocked without asking.

“You learned all this for me?”

He tilted his head. “Of course I did.”

And that was it.

No big speech. No theatrics.

Just Simon, standing in the soft light, love slick on his palms and patience carved into every callus.

⸻

He became your stylist after that.

Not professionally. Not loudly.

But intimately.

He brushed your hair before bed. Wrapped it in silk. Untangled it after long days without complaint. You started to leave your products out on purpose, just to see if he’d notice when something ran low.

He always did.

He even kept a tiny drawer organized by your hair type in the bathroom now—deep conditioners, scalp oils, leave-ins, brushes marked for wet or dry.

Simon Riley: war machine, tactician, lieutenant… and the only man you’d ever trust with your scalp.

And god—he was good at it.

Better than you’d ever dared to be with your own hair.

Because where you rushed, he lingered. Where you winced, he soothed. Where you’d given up?

He learned.

⸻

One morning, you woke up tangled in his arms, hair still wrapped tight and perfect in a protective scarf.

You hadn’t put it on.

He had.

Your heart cracked open a little wider in your chest.

You turned, pressed your face into his throat, and whispered, “You take care of me.”

Simon didn’t open his eyes. Just pulled you closer.

“Always, love.”

⸻

In public, no one knew.

But your hair always looked effortlessly done. Styled. Clean. Braided neatly, edges touched with care.

People complimented you.

You just smiled and said thank you.

You never told them your husband spent nights studying curl patterns or secretly whispered affirmations under his breath as he twisted sections to perfection.

You never told them he kept a small folder labeled “hair refs” on his encrypted hard drive—right next to blueprints for field operations.

You didn’t have to.

Because every brushstroke, every soft rinse, every quiet hand pulling through your curls spoke for him.

A silent language.

Of devotion.

Of protection.

Of love that never asked for recognition.

[tgirlwithreverb]

I saw that post about what to do if you're homeless again (the one that starts by telling you to spend all of your money on motel rooms lmao) anyway, here's a few thoughts, specifically for trans girls, cuz I don't really care otherwise tbh:

1) plan ahead, most trans girls are in precarious housing situations, you will have a much easier time when it falls apart if you already have a pack with most of the gear you need in it. Also, if you find yourself in a situation where you cant make rent, dont pay part of it, spend that money on gear, pocket the rest and leave, youll have a much nicer time. Look up your local eviction laws, you have plenty of time. (Gear list at the end)

2) travel! If you're in Arizona in May, leave. it's about to be hot as hell. If you're in Michigan in October, leave. It's about to be cold as hell. If you're in a big city, leave. It's way easier to be homeless pretty much anywhere else. Amtrak is cheaper and more comfortable than greyhound, hitchhiking is free and easy, if you're alone it's not that much slower than the previous two, and it's more fun, and sometimes people buy you food or whatever or give you money. I promise it's not scary and you're entirely capable of doing it, no matter who you are. 95+% of people who will pick you up are very nice. All you have to do is take the bus out of town, as far down the highway you can, to an exit with a truck stop if possible, then just stand on the side of the road with your thumb out until someone picks you up. You can stand at the bottom of the ramp(on the highway) near where the merge lane ends or at the top of the ramp(where there's usually a traffic light), the former is more likely to lead to cop interactions but will maybe get you a ride faster, check on hitchwiki for how the cops are in the area. don't be afraid to take a commuter bus or Amtrak to get out of a shitty cop area

3) skip shelters if you can (they are very occasionally a decent place to get stuff from) and encampments, good places to sleep include the trees near railroad tracks or highways, wooded areas behind shopping centers, sections of parks without paths, overgrown empty lots. Hang a tarp above you if there's an appreciable chance of rain, there's tons of YouTube tutorials on how to do this, maybe I'll make a post about what I usually do some day. There are many habits more fun than motel rooms, save your money for them lmao.

4) get on food stamps. This is easier in some places than others, but it makes the whole thing a lot easier. Just tell them you're homeless, if they don't give you a card the same day, you can probably ask to pick it up from that office, alternatively some drop in centers/day shelters can receive mail for you, or you can have it sent to general delivery(USPS service, look it up)

7) libraries are great for charging your phone and using wifi, but also keep an eye out, plenty of random outlets on the outsides of buildings are also powered

5) dumpster. sidewalk trash cans, Aldi, Einstein's, trader Joe's, pizza places, etc. You need to develop a bit of a sense for it but it's an easy way to get cooked food or travelling food or expensive food without spending resources. Also it's fun.

6) water is free, go into the bathroom of any gas station or grocery store in America(offer not valid in most big cities or on the west coast, but in that case just go to the library) and fill up your water bottle

8) hygiene notes: truckers get free showers from chain truck stops(loves, pilot/flying j) go there and ask them. convenient if you're hitchhiking, also you don't need to shower 3 times a day, really, you'll survive. Ditto with deodorant. Take care of your teeth though. Take your socks off every. day. Change them consistently. Safety razors give a good shave, work well without adequate water pressure, and the replacement blades are very stealable, they're kind of heavy though. Walmart makes these electric razors for women that take AA batteries and are pretty light but give a worse shave, also they kinda go through batteries, pick whatever works for you(cartridge razors suck)

9) traveling food notes: peanut butter is great, tortillas and bagels travel pretty well, tuna packets are pretty good protein for traveling(the ones with rice and beans or whatever are nice since theyre often the same price as the regular), condiment packets are free, hot sauce makes everything better, and mayo goes well with tuna and has a bunch of calories in it, salad dressing packets are free from truck stops and work well turning the Walmart shredded vegetable packages (labeled for making into slaw, next to the bagged salads) into a salad with real vegetables(not iceberg lettuce) in it or mixing in with tuna packets for even more calories than mayo

Gear world:

Necessary items(in order of importance): a gallon of water carrying capacity(an Arizona jug or other twist top jug is conventional, but a bladder+arizona bottles also works), a tarp(larger than 6'x9', not brightly colored), a hank of parachord, a sleeping bag (20° rated, synthetic insulation), a backpack with a padded hip belt(at least 50L, no more than 75), rain gear(a rain poncho might cover your pack too, a rain jacket can help with wind when its cold, a trash bag inside or outside your pack can keep it dry, a plan to watch the weather and not get caught also works), a z-fold foam sleeping pad, three pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear (at least one pair of boxer breifs strongly recommended if you arent incredibly skinny), a decent pair of shoes with good arch support, a functional jacket(skip if you got a rain jacket before), a base layer(wool or poly, absolutely no cotton)

Convenient items: a sleeping bag liner(cotton free, keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer), gallon zip locks to pack your stuff in(helps keep it dry and organized), no more than one change of clothes(as light as possible), a multi-tool(can opener, pliers, wire cutter), lighter(burning rope ends etc), spoon, floss and needles for patching

[callme-baeee]

ㅤ♡ HUSBAND!LUIGI MANGIONE HEADCANONS

WARNINGS: suggestive language, curse word i guess that's it. Idk man.

ㅤ♡ You met Luigi because he was struggling to parallel park his car, and you yelled out, “Want me to do it or are you gonna figure it out, fucker?” He smirked (classic him), parked it perfectly just to show off, and then walked over to ask if you need any help. (It was his car. You were walking past. Fate said yes.)

ㅤ♡ He’s the guy who looks tough as nails but will 100% scream if there’s a spider in the bedroom. One time, he made you “escort it out” while he stood on the bed yelling instructions. (You married him anyway because he’s hot.)

ㅤ♡ Proposed during a candlelit dinner at home because he knew you'd get suspicious if he planned anything fancy. Mid-spaghetti twirl, he slid the ring across the table with a suave, “So, wanna make me the happiest guy in the world?” (You choked on your wine, said yes, and then yelled at him for ruining the vibe with how casual it was.)

ㅤ♡ If he sees you crying over a sad movie, he’ll immediately start roasting the plot to make you laugh. “Why didn’t they just move to Florida if the killer clowns were such a problem?” Meanwhile, he’s crying too but won’t admit it.

ㅤ♡ He always insists on carrying all the groceries, even if it means his arms are about to fall off. (One time, he dropped a bag of flour in the driveway and mumbled, ‘It’s fine, I’m still strong,’ as if you doubted him.)

You forwarded your hand indicating him to give some bags since he had too many bag in both of his hands. It was a silent command, one laced with the expectation of immediate compliance.

Instead, he shifted the bags from his left hand to his right, a move that seemed deliberate, almost theatrical. His right hand, already laden with the weight of too many bags, now bore them all. And before you could voice your annoyance, he reached out—grasping your hand with an ease that caught you off guard.

Then came that smile. Not just any smile, but the kind that could melt glaciers, warm the coldest of hearts, and disarm even the most stoic. It was pure, unfiltered joy—mischief and charm rolled into one breathtaking expression. The cutest smile humanity had ever seen, or so it felt in that moment.

You sighed, tilting your head to the left, then the right, your disappointment on full display. “Asshole,” you muttered, your voice carrying just enough edge to sell the act.

But deep down, in the space you guarded most fiercely, you couldn’t have been happier.

ㅤ♡ The man is an absolute menace in the kitchen. He makes a huge mess every time he cooks but insists it’s “part of the creative process.” (The food is always delicious, though. You can’t even be mad.)

ㅤ♡ He buys you flowers randomly, but not the typical roses. He’ll show up with a weird mix, like sunflowers and baby’s breath, saying, “This one reminded me of your smile.” (You secretly press and save every single flower.)

ㅤ♡ A firm believer in PDA. He’s got a hand on your waist at all times. One time, a stranger commented on how affectionate he is, and Luigi smirked, “Can’t help it. She’s irresistible.”

ㅤ♡ You once joked about him doing your makeup, and he took it as a personal challenge. He watched three YouTube tutorials and showed up with a fully stocked Sephora bag. (He tried his best. It was bad. But you loved him for it.)

ㅤ♡ Absolutely melts if you wear his clothes. Walk into the room in one of his shirts, and he’s done for. “Yeah, we’re not leaving the house today,” he says as he picks you up and throws you on the bed. (RIP your plans and your legs.)

ㅤ♡ When you’re upset, he sits next to you quietly until you’re ready to talk. No prying, no pressure—just his presence. But the second you say what’s wrong, he’s already figuring out how to fix it.

ㅤ♡ He has a whole notes app list of “things she likes,” where he writes down random stuff you mention. Favorite snacks, dream destinations, weird obsessions—he’s got it all.

ㅤ♡ Once, during an argument, you jokingly said, “What are you gonna do? Leave me?” and he dead-serious replied, “Don’t even joke about that. ”

ㅤ♡ Hates shopping for himself but LOVES spoiling you. If he sees you eyeing something, it’s yours. “You deserve it,” he says, even if it’s something silly like a $25 glitter pen.

ㅤ♡ Swears he’s a big, tough guy but turns into absolute mush around kids. He’ll let them climb all over him like he’s a jungle gym. (You’re not saying it out loud, but yeah, you’re mentally baby-trapping yourself.)

ㅤ♡ Insists on celebrating every tiny milestone in your relationship. “It’s been 100 days since we had our first pizza together!” (You love him for it. Even when you’re rolling your eyes.)

ㅤ♡ One time, you were drunk and jokingly said, “You could totally ruin me, and I’d still thank you,” and he just leaned in and said, “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.” (You did not walk the next day. The prophecy fulfilled itself.)

ㅤ♡ Every night before bed, he pulls you into his arms and says, “I love you more than yesterday.” It’s cheesy. It’s perfect.

[clover-the-awesomest]

UH OH KAY IS COOKING KAY IS FUCKING COOKING-

(Look at the tags for further input)

any animators got any good refs or vids for timing? coz my ass is cooking but idk the recipe :D

[olderthannetfic]

I hear this so often, including from people doing seriously high-level crochet, so there's clearly something going on here.

A youtuber commented recently that she thinks she's cracked it: crochet gets ever more complicated, so crocheters find the first learning curve of knitting hard and assume it's going to be a nightmare from there on out... except knitting isn't like that. It's a little difficult to figure out which hand goes where while you're learning the basic knit and purl stitches, but after that, it's all the same stuff forever. There's another little hump if you're learning stranded colorwork or cables or brioche or whatever, but lots of patterns don't use those, and each is still just that initial little learning curve and then downhill thereafter.

TBH, I don't crochet enough to know if it just gets harder and harder, but that's what this person thought, and it's an interesting theory.

Another issue is that knitting notation varies pattern-to-pattern. There should be a key in the beginning of a decent pattern, and youtube has a lot of tutorials explaining different stitches and techniques.

--

If you want to learn to knit, pull up any youtube tutorial on the basic stitches, then go make this:

Yeah, it's a chunky weight sweater, which I'm not a huge fan of, but seriously, just go make a sweater. It will probably take you a month max if you spend a lot of time on it.

--

If you want to make that dragon cloak everyone's been reblogging from me lately, I haven't given it a try yet, but I remember looking at the description, and the designer says it's technically a lace pattern, but without visible holes. Lace isn't easy, but it isn't all that hard either.

Go knit one of these:

Or one of these:

[ballistic-goat]

I can't begin to tell you how freeing it is to learn how to use power tools and fix stuff in your own home.

Especially if you grew up like me and it was expected that the men would do this stuff. (Which they will procrastinate and postpone doing indefinitely).

Ever since buying my own place I've been learning to do stuff, and I installed my dishwasher, a shower bidet, assembled a lot of furniture and hung all kinds of shit on my walls and it feels GREAT!

Also, one thing I've learned from observing men doing this stuff is that they don't really know what they're doing either. If you look for a tutorial on YouTube you have just as big of a chance of getting everything right, maybe more. So don't let fear stop you and grab that power drill.