wittyandcharming

[wittyandcharming]

I'm disqualifying the peanut butter chocolate due to my peanut allergy. Out of the rest the cherry cordial is easily the worst.

[wittyandcharming]

elfs (Eredhon and @wittyandcharming's Íllaëriel, who are now Art Fight Official)

[wittyandcharming]

Time for another installment in my imaginary Muppet Princess Bride series! This one was yet another natural fit, Beaker's head-tuck thing felt perfect for this moment where Fezzik "Jogs" the Albino's memory.

Drawing this scene made me realise what a nightmare casting Sweetums as Fezzik and Pepe as Inigo would be to actually film. How the heck do you shoot a whole movie with these two sharing the screen together? Luckily I don't have to figure that out, and can just cheat their respective scales when I draw.

I'm not quite happy with how I drew the action of the second panel, but after waffling about this drawing for a while I think I just need to release it into the wind or risk it never seeing the light of day. I'm also pretty slow at drawing, so sometimes I take so long on these illustrations that the joke stops seeming funny and I start second guessing whether it was ever funny to begin with. So thanks to my pals on the Tough Pigs discord for reassuring me that this joke does indeed still work.

[wittyandcharming]

Full offense but your writing style is for you and nobody else. Use the words you want to use; play with language, experiment, use said, use adverbs, use “unrealistic” writing patterns, slap words you don’t even know are words on the page. Language is a sandbox and you, as the author, are at liberty to shape it however you wish. Build castles. Build a hovel. Build a mountain on a mountain or make a tiny cottage on a hill. Whatever it is you want to do. Write.

[wittyandcharming]

Saw a tiktok asking "are you a daughter of Lilith or daughter of Eve?" And of course basically asking if you're rebellious or submissive, with folks in the comments calling Eve passive or a 'pick me'.

What version of Genesis did these guys read?!

[wittyandcharming]

Everyone is nostalgic and no one is sincere. Do you get the idea

[wittyandcharming]

the hottest thing ever is not sex but the implication of sex. i wish more of you understood this

[wittyandcharming]

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

[wittyandcharming]

me, eating a pile of nuts, cheese, and apple: mmmm tasty

the medieval peasant in my head watching me eat: thou knowst what would MAKETH this meal? dried fruits.

me, getting out the raisins: god damn, etheldred, you are SO right

the medieval peasant in my head: yet thou art still not heeding mine words regarding the blasphemy

[wittyandcharming]

Congratulations to Brooke from Let's Not Date for winning Father's Day.

[wittyandcharming]

''what if my writing isn't good eno--'' what if it's a reflection of your soul. what if it has a place in this world. what if you write it anyway

[wittyandcharming]

How old were you at the lowest point in your life? Reblog this and put it in the tags, plus your current age maybe. I'm trying to see something.

[wittyandcharming]

It's impressive how Neil Gaiman vanished from the internet. Wish Rowling would do the same.

[wittyandcharming]

products are so bad now that i have to do approximately 8 hours of research before i buy anything

[wittyandcharming]

Nine!

[wittyandcharming]

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.

[wittyandcharming]

i hope all missionaries die i hope all evangelical christians die i hope all tradwife content dies i hope the mormon church goes under i hope all mega churches explode