Here Is The Avatar I Designed And Illustrated For @theblindadventures

The best order to watch Half Life 2 speed runs is this Dev Commentary fallowed by the AGDQ run with it's beautiful, beautiful commentary.

I’m with you Dev’s how is this guy getting shot in the face but not taking any damage? How does he just walk into walls?

Comment section: “Well clearly he's a boat and also a zombie and also doesn't exist,"

Hmm, no, that’s not helpful. But I am intrigued.

I did not know just how bad a deal this was until after scrolling past the poll, which is very fae. Anyway, my first thought was that a foot bone would be a decent one to lose.

Also there are no rules against doing the switch in an ER lobby.

Upon reflection, I wonder if the money being transferred immediately would fuck up my medicaid.

I saw this question posed on tiktok, but I think Tumblr would really enjoy it too.

If a fae creature offered to give one million dollars for a bone chosen at random, how many bones would you allow them to take?

Light clarifications; The fae is not the one choosing the bones. The bone is taken at random. Each bone, no matter the size or importance, is worth a full million dollars. You must also declare the exact number first, you can't go bone-by-bone. You either say 2 or you say 10, you can't work your way up to a higher number. The bones are removed instantaneously, and the money is given immediately as well. You will not get in government trouble for acquiring the money.

Tell me in the tags/replies how many bones you'd let the fae take. And as always, reblog for bigger sample size.

I'm on the East Coast, went to sleep at 9 pm, hoping to sleep through the night. Nope, nightmare and awake at 11:00 pm.

People are freaking out based on these early results and I just can't with that shit tonight. We know how it goes - Republicans look like they're doing well early on, then as more votes are counted and more polls close there's the shift. And yet every time we lose our minds.

Once my sister entered my house (where she did not live at the time) at 1:00 am, accidentally waking me up.

The next morning (a weekend) she woke me up at 7:00 am (too early) to ask me, politely but firmly, to make her breakfast.

I told her we had eggs, cereal, and yogurt.

She asked if I could please make her something.

I told her we had eggs, cereal, and yogurt.

She told me she wanted something hot, but not eggs.

I said, "That sucks."

She said please.

I said fine, I recently (two days previously) learned an amazing grilled cheese recipe.

(It had been practically the only thing I ate during those two days.)

I made her grilled cheese.

Brie, with the lightest amount of jam, fresh strawberries, and thin slices of apple.

She thanked me profusely, said I was the best sibling ever, and that it was the best goddamn grilled cheese ever.

It makes for a great story, because that's such an absolute bat shit thing to do.

So, yes, I, non-binary, would make my spouse a sandwich if woken up at 3:00 am and asked to do so. I would only do it the once, and I would be laughing at how absurd and profoundly self centered the request was at every possible moment.

My parents think my response to when a women asked me the following question question is why stopped being pursued in my Catholic community. It was a lighthearted discussion but maybe they are right lol. Although every single happily Godly married couple who I asked this question to (seperately from each other) has given the same response, my parents included.

So, the question:

No nuance button because nuances is already baked in. We are assuming both spouses are able to make a sandwich (nobody is in a full-body cast or had brain cancer or whatever).

AND NO NASTINESS

Two sickly, elderly male macaws paired together in the study had scarcely seen another macaw in their lives, yet formed a deep bond—dancing and singing enthusiastically together through the screen and calling “Hi! Come here! Hello!” whenever one or the other moved out of the video frame.

Guys I'm crying, technology brings disabled people AND parrots together. This is so great.

"A few significant findings emerged. The birds engaged in most calls for the maximum allowed time. They formed strong preferences—in the preliminary pilot study, Cunha’s bird Ellie, a Goffin’s cockatoo, became fast friends with a California-based African grey named Cookie. “It’s been over a year and they still talk,” Cunha says.

"According to Kleinberger, the types of vocalizations the birds used suggested they were mirroring the call and response nature they engage in in the wild—“hello, I’m here!” in parrot-speak."

(courtesy wolvendamien at Bluesky)

My family won’t support me in my vent endeavors so I pay a therapist $$$ instead.

Either way I do not leave comments on fics and only very, very, very rarely respond to the toxic slug pit that is internet discourse.

sometimes people are absolutely WILD about comments, acting like the idea that they shouldn’t be a jerk is a violation of their first amendment rights 

last week i read a fic i HATED. it was well written and highly recommended and i wish i had never read it. hours of my life i will never get back. 

i disagreed with: it’s interpretation on canon, it’s take on mental health, the social contract between loved ones, recovery, trauma, boundaries, and … more tbh

i could NOT stop thinking about how much i disagreed with it. me and this fic have philosophical differences so large i could give a ted talk and i was still super irritated about it days later. 

so you know what i did?

i called up my friends and was like “you guys have no context but i’m going to bitch about this fic you haven’t read in this fandom you haven’t consumed for the next thirty minutes” and they were like “okay sure it’s a tuesday night, we’re in a pandemic, i have nothing better to do”

what did i not do? 

leave a comment on this person’s fic because i’m a human person

I got scammed by a hole in the wall cash only cobbler and I'm so jealous. Still ragging about paying $50 to replace a zipper on my work books and then they replaced the zipper on the wrong fucking boot.

My work boots are the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned.

Also the most comfortable. I chose them after trying on several different brands and comparing lifespan vs usage vs comfort - I needed them for a physically demanding job, not the weekend hiking trails. I could have easily chosen cheaper boots that would have lasted long enough to be worth their low price, but I know the Sam Vimes Boot Theory and knew weaker, less comfortable boots would make my life harder in the long run.

So when the outside edge of the heel started wearing down after three years of heavy use I went to the shop I got them from and said “hey this is a common problem for me with how I walk but now it’s affecting my ankles and knees and I don’t wanna have to buy a new pair, is there a way to fix this?”

The salesman at this very fancy upscale boot store said “oh yeah, there’s a shoe repair place that can give you some heel guards - it’ll keep the rubber from wearing out.”

So at 8am this morning right after my 9hr shift ends I went to the shoe repair shop and it is the most hole-in-the-wall, is-this-a-real-business-or-a-mafia-front, am-I-gonna-get-shot tiny cinder block cube I’ve ever seen in my life. I grew up plenty poor and love me a good hole-in-the-wall business, but going from upscale store to this cash-only repair shop gave me whiplash. Wasn’t expecting this when a guy who wears three piece suits to sell boots said it’s the best place to go.

The skinny kid behind the counter looks somehow 16 and 25 at the same time, but when I tell him this place was recommended he smiles and says to hand over my boots. I hand him the vaguely warm foot-smelling boots, and stand in my socks in the 3’ square entryway surrounded by every color leather polish you could buy and watch as he turns my boots around in his hands, sizes up a crescent moon bits of plastic, and unceremoniously hammers tiny nails through them before handing them back.

The heels are perfectly level again. I can walk without almost rolling my ankles. They don’t clack loudly on the pavement or feel different. This is gonna fix my knee pain. It cost $10.

This kid had every tool he needed within arms reach, worked fast and smoothly, I was in and out the door in less than 8 minutes, and it only cost $10.

I didn’t think anything could cost only $10 anymore. I’m so used to hyperinflation prices I was spiritually thrown back to the 1400’s visiting the cobbler in town square. This kid might have been that cobbler and just decided to never die.

I’m still reeling from the whiplash, and gobsmacked at the price, and thrilled I didn’t have to go buy new, worse work boots (cuz I don’t have that kind of money for a second pair, I’m expecting these ones to last a decade) and it feels like I just experienced one of the rare little chunks of magic that floats around our world.

Hello!

(And hello Vera as well, cool blog)

I was diagnosed with PNES nearly 3 years ago. A lot has changed since then. I was diagnosed with vassalage syncope and dysautonomia. After gaining a better understanding of these cardiac conditions and what it felt like to faint or be about to faint, I stopped having seizures as a reaction to those syncope sensations.

I still have non-epileptic seizures. I’ve come to a point where I can control the shaking enough to walk (with assistance and supervision), talk, and use other gross motor skills. It still hurts, it’s still frustrating, it’s still exhausting. I still have other psychogenic episodes.

Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.

has anyone else ever had a pyschogenic non-epileptic seizure? or any type of stress-induced seizure? i haven’t come across anyone yet and i’m really curious if it’s happened to anyone else on here. 

it’s been….a rough week. a really, really rough week. 

As someone who was there back when this happened, no, the chat type post came after the shoelaces / stole them from the president. Tumblr chose that flavor text because of the meme.

there is something so darkly comical about tumblr potentially outliving twitter

tumblr, which is held together with duct tape and madness, run by three raccoons in blood stained Yahoo! hats and a handful of crabs, its only discernible source of income the sale of shoelaces from an inside joke so inside no one knows the original source anymore and fake blue checkmarks... that website still lives on

truly the cockroach of social media and I love it for that

Branka is part Newfound land, and I often say her favorite dogs are people.

She’ll walk by dog’s barking and lunging at her on the other side of the street and just give them a glance. She notices a person watching her, she looks at me (to see if I’m paying attention), then looks at the person, wags her tail, and does it again. I ask her, “Want to say ‘hi’? And we go say ‘hi’.”

This doesn’t happens as much anymore now she has cataracts. But she’s thrilled to death when I walk her over to someone she hasn’t yet noticed.

The best doggy