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October 17 2017

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Here’s a “life-hack” for you.

Apparently concentrated Kool-Aid can be used as a pretty effective leather dye.

I was making a drink while cutting the snaps off some new straps for my pauldrons and I got curious, so I tried it, thinking, “ok even if this works, it will just wash out.”


It took the “dye” (undiluted) in about 3 seconds. After drying for about an hour and a half, it would not wash off in the hottest tap-water. It would not wash out after soaking for 30 minutes.
It did not wash out until I BOILED it, and even then, only by a tiny bit and it gave it a weathered look that was kind of cool.
Add some waterproofing and I’d wager it would survive even that.

That rich red is only one application too.
Plus it smells great, lol.

So there you go, cheap, fruity smelling leather dye in all the colors Kool-Aid has to offer.


this may be important to some of my followers *and certainly not just getting reblogged because of my costuming and my boyfriends desire for leather armor*

When I was in middle school we used to use it to dye our hair.  Potent stuff.

If you’re dying anything with kool-aid it’s best to use SUGAR-FREE ones otherwise the thing you’re dying might get all sticky

the flavor only packets where you are supposed add sugar are the best. 
they will dye any natural fiber: leather, wool, cotton, hair,  flax, jute, silk and so forth. 
heat the dye water so it is more potent. 
let dry then rinse excess out in cold water. 
there’s  a whole system to this. 

Oh my god

This will prove very useful for any future cosplays I wanna do.


And now I’m like “holy shit can i dye alpaca with this?”















god i can never stop thinking about certain sculptures used in modern art and how they can be used to elicit the beautiful and terrible feeling of true and genuine horror in ways that a lot of horror movies can never do

like when you ask people “what is horror?” they’ll tend to give examples of monsters, of killers, of dark places, of sharp teeth and too many legs and lots and lots of blood. which is true, that can be used as horror! but i’d like to call that “the horror of being eaten/hurt/killed” or more succinctly “the horror of vulnerability”. it’s a horror that something, whether it’s a killer or a monster or some phenomenon, has the ability to cause us harm. we see large amounts of teeth and we think “that thing is going to tear us to pieces with those teeth” or we see spilled blood and we think “someone has been hurt, there’s a chance we can be hurt too by whatever spilled this blood”.

but what certain modern sculptures can do is elicit a very physical visceral reaction of a completely different kind of horror. 

it’s “the horror that something is a thing that SHOULD not exist, and you are absolutely powerless to understand what it is, but it is existing in your space, right now, it is real and you cannot make it unreal no matter what you do”

or perhaps, in a shorter fashion, it’s “the horror of wrongness

like one of the sculptures that made me feel this way is this sculpture here, named “Monekana” located in the American Art Museum in Washington D.C:

“okay,” you say, with a shrug. “it’s a horse made of wood? what’s so scary about that?”. but this is the lie of the photograph! a photograph of a sculpture rarely grasps the experience of standing next to a sculpture. you have to picture yourself walking into this room, practically devoid of people, and coming face to face with this sculpture that is very large and very real.

and your brain screams that “THIS IS WRONG. MAKE IT GO AWAY. THIS IS WRONG”, like at any moment you expect it to move, to twist its head, to follow you with eyes that aren’t simply there. it looks like a horse but it is no horse. you could almost argue that maybe it isn’t even an art piece at all, but it wandered in from god knows what kind of world and it’s blending in with everything else. maybe it’s fooling you. maybe it isn’t.

anyways, i’m not trying to say that this sculpture in particular is SUPPOSED to be scary, it may make other people feel nothing at all (or even positive feelings!), but what i’m trying to say is that feeling i had that day, when i saw this thing, when i felt this fearful instinct to stay away and not stare, it’s THAT feeling that i feel so many writers and makers of horror don’t completely understand. you don’t need teeth. you don’t need blood. you don’t need to make Spooky Scary Skeletons or chainsaw-wielding villains. all you need is to create something wrong in its existence, something to make parts of us fear the fact that we can’t entirely rationalize what we’re seeing.

that’s horror, to me.


This is amazing

This post makes me think of Klaus Pinter’s work:

The experience of sculpture absolutely gets lost in images. I’ve walked into museums and been like WOW THE FUCK even when I knew it was coming.

I love this subject, though. I love “implication horror.” You see something, and the realization of what it means, which often comes a few moments later, is where the real horror lies—not in how splattery or gratuitously shocking it is. The wrongness of a thing in fiction, when done well, is the best. I was watching Melancholia the other day, and what a terrifying example of wrongness horror.

Anyway this is such a great post thanks for putting the whole idea into words so well. <3

This is how I feel about wind turbines (I tried to walk up to one once and felt the most inexplicable terror I’ve ever felt in my life), or most things that are ridiculously large, for that matter. Ships fascinate me but make me feel very uneasy. Certain buildings, especially if they look old-timey in any way kind of freak me out. 

Examples: The Halifax shipyard building made me feel almost nauseous, and I have to drive past this cold storage building in Winnipeg every time I go to visit my boyfriend’s parents. I do not like it one bit.

Also, I got to see that sculpture of a giant newborn baby last year. That was very surreal in the way that is described here.

WHAT AMAZING ADDITIONS TO THIS POST, thank you! I didn’t know of Kalus Pinter’s work and now I REALLY want to see it for myself, goodness.

Honestly, I’m so glad so many people have responded and reblogged this post with examples and stories of their own!! It’s so cool to see just what people think and perceive as this horror of “wrongness”. I also see some people saying that this is essentially the uncanny valley effect, which is only an aspect of this kind of horror - the uncanny valley primarily deals with something we perceive that looks close to human and yet doesn’t quite make it there. It’s just one subset of a really uneasy sort of horror that can be found in so many forms, which may really honestly differ from person to person.

Overall, THIS HORROR IS WIDELY UNDERUSED IN FICTION and I’m so glad to see so many examples of it posted here!!

I feel this way about kangaroos. If you really look at a kangaroo for a minute it’s deeply unsettling, they’re bipedal and they have insane abs and they move wrong, it’s too human and I get that creeping horror that this thing exists. If I look at kangaroos too long I feel like I’m going insane

Louise Bourgeois’s spider sculptures did this to me, a bit. It was less the shape than the form–the lumpiness, the uneven shine–but mostly it was the scale. Most of these examples of horror don’t feel quite so wrong when they’re at a scale we can look “down” on. But when they overshadow us, or at least when they overshadow our general certainty of control, even for just a moment, the disorientation can slip suddenly into horror.

consider the Gelitin collective’s enormous pink rabbit left to rot in the Italian alps for the next 10 years

Eoin Mc Hugh - The Ground Itself is Kind,  Black Butter, 2014

Kiki Smith’s lilith sculpture is more humanoid but i feel like it belongs on this post because walking into the stairwell in the met and seeing this fucking thing was one of the most unnerving experiences in my life


If “the horror of wrongness” makes your soul sing as it does mine, read literally anything by Robert Aickman. My favorite is “The Hospice”.

in terms of literature, my favorite example of the horror of wrongness is ‘declare’ by tim powers. if you want to be slightly creeped out by concentric circles for the rest of your life, read it. it’s… mostly a spy novel.

My dad is a musician at the Naples Philharmonic orchestra hall, and let me tell you, there is nothing more terrifying than being no older than 4, wandering out to the courtyard at your dad’s workplace, and feeling this horrific aura of cosmic judgement from the masked Phillip Jackson sculptures just looming there. Their height and limbs are just tall, twisted and elongated enough to not be human, and you can totally feel it in person.

October 16 2017



did U GUYS KNOW, that the way stores get the balloons off of the ceiling is with ANOTHER balloon, w tape on the top??? and they just dont cut the string so it’s like super long and u gotta aim it right n reel it in. i just found that out today when i DID IT and it’s been the best working day of my life i had a blast blowing up balloons and fetching some off the ceiling. i had so much power? and NO ONE ELSE in my department likes that job so now it’s MY job when need be

omg so I work at a museum and one of our buildings has a) very high ceilings and b) a bizarrely sensitive alarm system that will go off if anything touches the ceiling. Because of this, helium balloons are considered public enemy #1 and are strictly forbidden from entering the museum. But just in case an illicit balloon is successfully smuggled in, the museum has acquired a fucking b.b. gun for the express purpose of shooting down rogue balloons.

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the next time you think you’re lonely, just remember you have about 25 billion white blood cells in your body protecting your sorry little ass with their life. you have 25 billion friends who would die for you. no need for tears.

thank you osmosis jones

My immune system tried to kill me though.

Jordan just remember you had twenty five billion enemies trying to kill you and you’ve survived them all

Take THAT you tiny goddamn sons of bitches. 

October 15 2017





just saw someone complaining that a bunch of people are getting into dnd now “solely because of the adventure zone”

i honestly cannot even fathom having a problem with that. like why don’t you want more people to enjoy the thing you love? its not a secret club y’all. dnd is popular as hell. and the mcelroys aren’t the first people to bend the rules to suit their needs. 

let people like stuff. don’t gatekeep communities just because you feel like you’re above new fans that didn’t find the community the same way you did. chill. even if its just “a bunch of kids buying pretty dice and playing the game wrong.” get over yourselves.

As someone who’s been playing D&D for literally 20 years, I am FUCKING HYPE about getting more people playing.

I can’t be more excited that TAZ got people into D&D. I started in middle school and no one wanted to play with me outside my parents’ friends, and that was okay up to a point. Highschool had only a handful of us. TAZ? It’s sparked love for the game in so many of my friends. I’ve got two campaigns I DM and three more I participate in since I got friends hooked on TAZ. It’s not only brought newblood to the game, it’s taught them how certain mechanics work so they don’t just walk in blind and confused and nervous.

I love that people are getting into D&D solely because of TAZ. They heard a wonderful story and realized how fun the game could be. It’s awesome.

I am honestly so excited that more people are getting into tabletop!! I just wish I had better resources for the people who ask about it. My only advice is, if you want to learn to play, see if you can join a game at your local game shop!

October 14 2017

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*sticks my finger in here and I pull it out to see that its just bone*




You are a guard in a fantasy world. You notice a man in elegant armor kick a chicken in the streets. In your lawful rage, you manage to kill this man in the name of justice. To your dismay, you realize you just killed The Chosen One. You just doomed the world.

In my defense, it was self-defense.

I saw him saunter through town in his expensive, fancy armor, nearly bowling over Granny Fairchild when she didn’t get out of his way fast enough.  I didn’t think much of him - no one did, that I knew - but what was I going to do?  The man was clearly some sort of lord or higher, and I’m just a guard.  Not even a captain or sergeant!  Just a normal, everyday run-of-the-mill guard.

In short, there’s nothing special about me.  No special training, no special knowledge - unless you count laws, which I memorized - nothing whatsoever.

I didn’t say anything when he demanded prices to be lowered, and forced his “goods” on us.  Spoils of adventures, he said.  You can’t get them anywhere else.  What are we going to do with forty preserved wyvern eyeballs!  It’s not something any of us can use.  I don’t care how much some wizard in a city we’ve never been would pay for them.

I didn’t say anything when he aggressively flirted with all the women, to the point that little Maria started crying and her brothers looked for sharp objects.  Thank the gods that Maria’s wife is so quick-thinking, and got his attention elsewhere!  It would have been a very ugly, very deadly brawl, and Maria would have lost her brothers.

I didn’t say anything when he co-opted the blacksmith’s forge to make a few daggers to push on us - because his skill is so legendary, however were we to survive without his priceless daggers?  Ahmed was unable to fulfill his orders that day, and will now have to work twice as hard to catch up!  And I wanted him to look at my gauntlet, too, because it was starting to look a little warped at the wrist.

But when I saw that man start to kick around Granny Fairchild’s chickens, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer.  Those chickens are all she has!  Every morning, Granny Fairchild comes to market with a basket of fresh eggs, and we all buy some - even if we don’t need eggs - to make sure she doesn’t go hungry.  Like most of us, she refuses handouts and charity, preferring to get by on her own.

“You can’t do that,” I told him, using my sternest voice.

“Do what?” he asked, kicking a hen and sending her scuttling.

“That,” I said.  “Kicking chickens.  Or any animal.  You can’t do that.”

“Who’s going to stop me?” he asked arrogantly.  He looked me up and down, mockingly.  “You?”

And just to be an ass, he took out his sword and killed one of the chickens right then and there.

Now, killing someone’s animal isn’t necessarily an arrestable offense.  You get a fine, you pay it, and you go on your way.  Especially something small, like a chicken.  A cow, now, or a horse, that’s a different story.  But a chicken - no. 

But by this point, I was so tired and so fed up with his attitude.  Who was he to walk into our village in his fancy, expensive armor and harrass our people?  Making our shy girls cry, assaulting our widows and grandmothers, nearly robbing us blind by forcing his “goods” on us in exchange for ours, and putting good people out of work for his barely average daggers?  An entitled ass, I tell you.

So I took out my sword and intended to bash him at the back of his head to bring him to his knees.  It’s not a very brave act, to attack someone from behind, but you must understand that even then, he was some mighty adventurer while I am a lowly village guard.  In a fair fight, I had no chance.

Apparently, I hit him too hard, or just right, because he went down like a sack of potatoes and didn’t get up.  I looked him over, then call for our healer.  When she arrived, she pronounced him dead and congratulated me.

Imagine that, being congratulated for being a murderer.

Well, we gathered his things and I sent out a report to my sergeant in the next village over, who must have forwarded it to the captain, because the next thing any of us knew, we had an entire garrison marching on us.  The captain demanded to see me, and I reluctantly made my way up.

I murdered a lord’s son, I thought.  They’re going to arrest me for murdering a lord’s son!  There goes my career!

I hadn’t murdered a lord’s son, of course.  I did something much worse.

“You killed Adam Draxon, Hero of a Thousand Lands?” the captain demanded.  He looked me up and down, much like the man did, but less mocking and more incredulous.

“I never knew his name,” I managed, nearly biting my tongue in two I was stammering so bad.

“He wore the Crest of King Ellifry!” the captain said.  “How could you not know?”

“Is that what it was?  I thought it was a fat eagle…”

The captain and all his men stared at me for a long moment, where I was certain that time must have stopped, because it lasted an eternity.

“He was on his way to slay the vicious dragon plaguing Balewood Forest!  And you killed him!”

“It was an accident!” I protested.  “I was trying to arrest him.”

“Arrest him?!”  The captain was apoplectic.  “You were trying to arrest the Hero of a Thousand Lands?  For what?  What could he have possibly done to make you arrest him?!”

“He, ah, well, you see… Hm.  It was like this…”

“Go on, I’m listening.  I’m very eager to hear your reasoning.”

I took a deep breath.  “IwasarrestinghimforkillingGrannyFairchild’schicken.”


“He killed Granny Fairchild’s chicken,” I said again, slower.  I didn’t dare look up.  The captain wears some nice boots.  Shiny.  Tailored.  “So I was arresting him.”

“You murdered Adam Draxon, Hero of a Thousand Lands, Defender of the Free People, for killing a chicken?”

“It was an accident!” I protested again.  “I was just trying to… subdue… him…”

“And who, pray tell, is going to slay the dragon plaguing Balewood Forest?” the captain asked me scathingly.  “You?”

“I can’t kill a dragon!” I said.  I’m pretty sure I squeaked, too. 

“You killed the Hero of a Thousand Lands,” he told him, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.  “You must be a mighty warrior, so a dragon can’t be too difficult a task for you.”

I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment.  In that moment, I saw something.  Okay, a lot of things, but mostly the one.  I saw fear.  Not of me, gods no.  The captain was afraid.  I had - accidentally or not - killed our only hope against the forces of darkness in our world.  Who was going to slay the dragon?  Certainly not me; I’d be lucky if I got close to the beast.  And certainly not the captain.  Really, there was only one person who was capable of such a feat, and he was moldering in an unmarked grave in our village cemetery.  

The next few hours went by in a blur.  I was given the Hero’s old things - things we had carefully packed away and inventoried to prevent theft - to protect me.  I was told some of it had magic, like protection against evil and the like.  It looked pretty, but ultimately worthless.  What would a shiny ring do against a dragon, except make it envious and eat me for the ring?

Really, what else did I expect?  If I had stayed, I would have been hanged for murder, at best.  At worst, I would have been drawn and quartered in some public place while my entire family was arrested and enslaved for my crimes.  In a way, the captain was saving me.  This was a chance to redeem myself - albeit a very small, very dangerous, and very, very stupid chance.  But it would keep me from a very public execution, which was generally better.

It’s not like the thought of chucking all of the Hero’s things the minute I got out of sight and running never occurred to me.  It did.  Numerous times.  I thought about it as I lay awake at night.  I thought about it as I heard story after story after story of the Dragon of Balewood Forest.  But someone had to try, damnit.  Someone had to at least try.

I never did get my gauntlet fixed.

When I had finally made it to the dragon - which, by the by, involved talking wolves and a bargain with a witch that I’m pretty sure she now regrets as you can’t exactly extract a dead person’s first born if they’ve never had children - I was tired, and hungry, and terrified out of my wits.

The mountain wasn’t as big as I pictured.  It was a large hill, at most, with a shallow cave.  I climbed up - a feat, I assure you, that sounds more daunting that it was.  I mostly walked, and like Balewood Forest, it was a pleasant walk.  And when I reached the mouth of the cave, I mustered all my meager courage to shout my challenge to the Dragon of Balewood Forest.

“H-hello?” I called out.  “Anyone home?”

A roar echoed from the cave - a massive sound that had me quaking - and smoke curled out.  I felt a blast of heat roll out of the cave.

“Look, I’d just like to talk for a bit,” I said.  “If you have time, that is.  I can come back tomorrow, if now’s not a good time for you!”

Heroic bravery at it’s finest, I tell you.

I felt an impact that was like being hit by a mountain.  I thought at first it must be some sort of cave-in or avalanche, but not.  Just dragon.  I rolled down the hill a ways, losing the sword and shield almost instantly along with my bearings.  I had barely stopped moving when a clawed paw pinned me to the ground, and I was face-to-face with a wall of long, sharp teeth and sulfuric breath.

“Adam Draxon!” the beast roared at me.  “You murdered my parents!  You have left me an orphan!  Do you have anything to say for yourself before I kill you?”

“Um, I’m not Adam Draxon,” I said.

“What?!” the dragon screeched.  It pulled back just enough to look at me with one beautiful sapphire eye.  Really, if you get the chance to look at a dragon’s eyes, you should.

“I’m not, um, I’m not Adam Draxon,” I repeated.  “I’m not anybody.”

The dragon pulled away, glowering at me.  “You’re wearing his armor. You’re wearing his Crest!”

“I still think it looks like a fat eagle,” I muttered as I took the Crest off and tossed it aside.  “Look, I know you were expecting Adam Draxon, and I’m sorry, but I’m here.  So can we talk, please?”

 “Where’s Adam Draxon?” the dragon demanded, arching itself up to look bigger.  For all the stories I’d ever heard, the dragon was really about the size of a large draft horse.  Certainly not the size of a house, like I was told.  And it’s scales - while very bright - weren’t exactly what you’d call shiny.

“Um, he’s, uh… well…”  How do you explain that the Hero of a Thousand Lands is dead?  Especially to someone who wants to cook and eat him?  “He, uh, he died.”

The dragon cocked it’s head to look at me with one eye.  “Dead?  You expect me to believe that the Slayer of a Dozen Dragons and Terror to the Dark is dead?” 

“Yeah, I was surprised, too,” I admitted.  “It was an accident.”

“Accident?” the dragon roared.  “An accident?!”

 “Well, how else was he going to die young?”

The dragon lowered itself and stared at me for a long, long, long time.  “You don’t smell like you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“But you don’t smell like you’re telling the truth.”

 “It’s… complicated.”

 “Tell me.”

 I took a deep breath.  “I was trying to arrest him.  His back was turned, and I hit him too hard with the pommel of my sword.”

 “… he’s really dead?”

 “He’s really dead.”

 “But he killed my parents!”

 I walked up and patted the dragon on it’s shoulder.  “I know, I’m sorry.”

 And that’s how I “defeated” the Dragon of Balewood.  He told me his story, and I listened for a while, and when night fell, he invited me to stay with him.  A dragon lair is surprisingly clean and comfortable, and we talked most of the night.  The dragon - Lorcanthan - was in need of a permanent home.  The terrorizing was merely to get Adam Draxon to his location, so he could get revenge for the murder of his parents.  There was very little terrorizing, I learned, as Lorcanthan mostly showed up and bothered the horses and maybe burned a field by accident.

 That morning, I decided to go to the villages around Balewood Forest.  For the better part of a season, I went to each village and spoke with the people.  In truth, very little actual damage occurred, and even then, it was mostly by panicking animals.  The mayors and headsmen were very reluctant to speak with me about the matter, at first, but slowly listened to what I had to say.

 Later, I went to Lorcanthan and had him come with me to the outskirts of Balewood, where the mayors and headmen were waiting.  I helped negotiate a deal for them, between the dragon and villagers.  And so the Dragon of Balewood went from plague to protector.

 Really, that’s how it started.

 Afterwards, I went to speak to the witch about the bargain, and she was willing to wait.  Being as the bargain was struck when I was under extreme duress, I managed to talk her down to shared custody.  We’ll figure out the details when I do have a child, I guess.  She sent me to talk to her sister, who was across the country, about a matter involving kidnapping.

 That was a horrible, horrible case, where I discovered the the Wicked Sorceress of the North was being blamed for the actions of a vile man.  The less said, the better, but when I had settled that matter, word go around.  

 And when a Horde of Orc Barbarians led by Thorid the Bloodthirsty threatened, I was sent to deal with them.  I don’t know how, exactly, it happened, because I had a few drinks with Thorid, but I ended up accidentally challenging his eldest to a duel and - purely by chance, I promise! - killed her.  Which made me, by Orc law, Thorid’s heir.  Somehow.  And second-in-command.

 When Thorid died from gangrene from an untreated injury by boar, I became the leader of the Horde of Orc Barbarians.

 From there, things got complicated fast.  And now I’m the Leader of the Dark Forces, and it’s the eve of war.  I sent King Ellifry a letter asking that he meet with me to negotiate this matter, but I haven’t heard back yet.  I’d really rather avoid the whole war thing, but honestly, when you actually sit down and listen to the Dark Forces, you learn that there’s a lot of inequality and oppression that really needs to be addressed.

 And as a guard sworn to uphold the law, it’s up to me to see that it is addressed.

Never did get my gauntlet fixed.

Are you Terry frickin’ Pratchett?? This is awesome omg

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And here are the Trick illustrations!


when your characterization in the first major part of the game is to abhor men acting skeevy and pervy and actually respect women as your peers but Atlus doesn’t know what they’re doing so you immediately go against everything you had established by becoming the “pervy friend” and objectify women constantly because Atlus assumes that’s a necessary trait of a comic relief and sexual harassment is not a big deal unless it’s acted upon

when your big character development is about fighting objectification and not letting men sexualize you without consent but Atlus once again doesn’t know what they’re doing so you are sexualized in every instance possible from your battle stance to your outfits and your behavior and you essentially become eye candy right after fighting the idea of women being only eye candy

October 12 2017

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You can buy Uranium Ore from Amazon. Thank god Kim Jong Un doesn’t have access to the Internet.                                                                                                                                        

the reviews for this are….amazing:

“ Rubbed on balls every night for three years straight and I still ended up with over twenty kids. This stuff does not work. “

“I got a free cat in the box with this purchase but I’m not sure if I should open it to see if the cat is ok.”

“ I left this product next to my pet lizard, unfortunately now he’s 350ft tall now and is currently destroying Tokyo, Japan”

“If I opt for air mail does it get delivered by Amazone Prime Air or CIA drones?“

“I want to turn my pet iguana into a 400 foot tall kaiju with radioactive breath. How many should I buy?”

“Oh, so on re-reading the book, it’s nitrogen, phosphorus, and POTASSIUM in garden fertiliser. Not Uranium. My bad, great product, and I’m now off to take the tomato plant for its walk.”

“Would rate zero stars if I could! I guess the super powers you receive from this product are completely random. My power was colon cancer and the ability to smell colors. How am I supposed to fight crime with that?! Do not buy!”

“ Relabeled it liverwurst and left it in the break room fridge. Of course it was gone the next day. Turned of the lights in our office and as expected, Peter from accounting was the only one glowing in the dark. No wonder he never brought lunch to work.”

“This stuff works great as hair removal. Take the rock and crush it into your shampoo. All of your hair will fall out, and give your head a nice glow so you can read without any lights on.”




Fun Vampire Fact; the reason that Vampires traditionally cannot see their reflections in a mirror is because mirrors used to be backed with a reflective layer of silver — which, as the metal of purity, would not ‘interact’ with Vampires, who are the Devil’s work.

However, modern mirrors have used aluminum as their reflective backing for many years now — and aluminum is not a ‘picky’ metal at all. So Vampires are able to see their reflections in modern mirrors.

I have this mental image of an old-fashioned vampire, who lives in a dusty old manor on top of a creepy hill, who’s visited by a modern kid who hears all the legends, and shows up with a smile.

And it starts off with the whole “I don’t drink…wine.” stuff, and the vaguely creepy statements, but the kid just goes ‘Look, I wanted to tell you, I got you a thing.’

And they hand the vampire a mirror. A modern one with aluminum. And at first they awkwardly try to avoid looking in it, but the kid goes “Look, just…just look at it, okay?” And they do. And they’re astonished that they see themselves.

And instead of trying to murder this kid, they begin to explode in questions, which the kid answers, eventually pulling out their phone and getting a selfie with the old vampire, and it turns out THEY CAN SHOW UP IN MODERN DIGITAL IMAGES, because instead of using silver in the photography process, it’s all digital pictures with silicon and gold.

And then the vampire learns what a Selfie Stick is and starts up an Instagram that gets followed by a hojillion goths.

Imagine the vampire’s reaction to learning there’s such thing as a Hot Topic.

I’m sorry, this is really cute to me.

Reblogging to save a life. Or in this case, an unlife, given they’re vampires.



people being interested in my oc


people asking in-depth questions about my oc



what base is sharing furry art

fukc you. fuck you fyc k you FUCK YIU fuck yifu fuci u ou

1574 2279 500




October 11 2017

6 was scared of 7 because 7, 8 ,9 but why did 7 eat 9?



Because you’re supposed to eat 3 squared meals a day.

this is advanced



hey if u can’t drive/are a slow learner due to a disability or mental illness, just picture historical figures like pirates or the founding fathers trying to operate a car.

it’s only “easy” bc we’ve normalized it.

it would be great for neurotypicals to reblog this






why do little kids always tantrum scream like they’re reenacting jurassic park

Their emotions are too big for their little bodies y'all

They feel just as intensely as we do

Well maybe they should get bigger bodies

They do. It takes several years.

Several years??? Typical millennial laziness

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