Chris Austin Art On Instagram

As one of the two resident weird girls at the Home I work in, can I just say your professor is a moron. I work three days a week as a nurse in a high priced Christian nursing home, and I am loved there. Those girls request me as a nurse on their floors, once in a while arguing about who gets me for a night. Why? Is it because I info dump at them sometimes, or bring in the latest serotonin maker I've found? Is it cuz I dress in a gothic style and wax poetic about random things? Is it because I'm touch adverse or that I constantly talk to myself to stay on task? No. They deal with those things because I am a competent Nurse, I am kind to them and the residents, and I help out. Honey, being different is hard, and spicy brained people like us have it rough, but I promise your coworkers will not have a problem with weird.

Anyway last week my professor told the class "coworkers will put up with poor technical skills but they won't put up with weird" and after class I just went and sat in my car and cried bc how am I supposed to survive if I still don't seem "normal" even though I've been doing behavioral therapy since first grade but masking hurts so goddamn bad that I'm only doing two classes a week rn but I'm still falling apart and barely functioning every day and barely getting my work turned in bc i come home from class and collapse for days at a time and its just not fair, its not fair, why do other people get to be the normal, why do jobs get to be easy for other people, why are 66% of autistics unemployed/underemployed its not FAIR

Why would they do all this? Just get remarried!

They have. Three times. But they wanted to REALLY get married again. And Mama isn't legally allowed to throw weddings anymore since the cemetery incident. They have to do it legitimately.

Gomez and Morticia Addams got divorced. I woke up mortified and with a sense of inexplicable dread.

As we conclude our week-long sea-lebration of her birthday, let's reflect on Rosa’s time at the Aquarium!

We’re so grateful for the opportunity to care for Rosa 💙 Help us wish her the fluffiest, happiest 24th birthday!

A lot of writing advice says ‘throw the reader into the action’ and I respect where that’s coming from, but personally I kind of love an elaborate and unnecessary-to-the-plot framing device.

The credits before the grainy movie or long, dramatic anime opening; an endlessly looping videogame title screen; some hype man at the beginning of a renaissance play purely there to let the crowd know shit’s about to get real.

The following pages are transcribed from papers found in a cave thought unreachable by humans, and written in an ink whose chemical composition could not be determined. Something howls in the forest and the stranger at your campfire looks up from under the brim of their hat and strums their guitar to begin the Ballad of Howlin’ Joe. Reader, the tale you are about to read is entirely made up and every character fictitious, but each and every word of it is true.

Once upon a time! It was a dark and stormy night! Atmosphere IS story and you don’t have to cut out every moment of it to serve constant forward action. Give me a trope with absolute sincerity that sets a MOOD and gets me in the zone. I have a huge reverent soft spot for an opening that feels like beginning the ancient and intrinsically familiar ritual of storytelling, a ritual that spans the world and predates written text, endlessly iterating and evolving. Are you sitting comfortably? Let’s begin.

them: SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST MEANS HUMANS MUST BE INDIVIDUALLY SELF-SUFFICIENT AND COMPLETELY INDEPENDENT

biologist:

me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit

mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

Mitch McConnell next, like to charge reblog to cast

Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water

it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.

Cat update!

Cat update. Last year around this time I was coming home late. It's was almost pitch black out and as I opened my front door I heard a loud screaming cry of a kitten. So I shut my front door and went to the end of my porch to see what I could find. What I found was a tiny shape running down the sidewalk screaming at fhe top of their lungs. They ran straight to me and climbed my dress. After I picked them off my dress I saw in my hands this tiny orange and white baby. I took him in the house and he quickly became family. Now my Emilia has her big little brother Orion. Still my loves, even when he is being a goblin.