My Blog Is Not A Safe Space
i put landmines everywhere and i have no fucking idea where i put them please fucking help me
@dragonofthedepths / dragonofthedepths.tumblr.com
i put landmines everywhere and i have no fucking idea where i put them please fucking help me
I just learned that the Russian word for “ladybug” translates to “God’s Little Cow”
It’s the same in Irish! bóín Dé!
in hebrew it’s “our rabbi moses’s cow”
Oh I love this news!!!!
Multiple cultures upon seeing a ladybug for the first time: “Who’s cow is this????”
It feels like some early humans were naming things and one of them ran out of ideas.
Human 1: (points at animal) What’s that?
Human 2: Cow.
Human 1: (points at bug) What’s that?
Human 2: … little cow.
Human 1: But it’s so much smaller. Who would have use for such a small cow?
Human 2: (panicking but in too deep to stop now) God.
The “Lady” in the name “ladybug” is the virgin Mary. People just cannot stop giving religious names to this bug.
The reason for this was that if you lived in an agrarian society then your survival was a throw of the dice every year, depending on the success of the crops. A failed crop year is a very hard year where deaths are expected. And if you grew a cereal like wheat, there were several things that could cause your crops to fail, but one of the big ones was if you happened to get a fuckton of aphids. You know what eats aphids? Ladybugs! If there are lots and lots of ladybugs around, there was a good chance that it’d be a good crop year! They were little crop protectors! When your family lives or dies on the success of that crop, of course they’d be seen as a blessing and given an appropriate name!
I dropped a jar of activated charcoal earlier today resulting in a face full of fine black dust that bomfed up around me in a comical fashion like a cartoon character getting covered in dust when they snap shut a dusty tome.
Which is fine, whatever. Cleaned it up. No real harm done.
Unfortunately, the brain fog means I keep forgetting this happened and almost have a heart attack every time I blow my nose.
Fanfic: Once a King, Always a King
Writer: @burning-stars98
Fellow Artists: @ectalexi art @sensorii-scribbles art
close ups under cut!
galahad’s knighthood process was really funny
My contribution for @burning-stars98 ‘s fanfic “Once a King, Always a King” for the Sonic Big Bang event! Sonic meets some unexpected visitors at his doorstep from an adventure long past who come in need of help… I recommend you go check it out 🏃♂️
[Forgot to mention also check out the artists who also made art for this fic! @pretzlforpresident @sensorii-scribbles ]
Happy Pride Month to everyone who gets this joke, laughed at it, or isn’t a homophobic or transphobic etc asshole.
Happy Pride Everyone.
Stay Gay.
ok well this blew my mind
This is also true with filmmakers. Western filmmakers pan their cameras mostly left to right and Iranian filmmakers do right to left.
Time seems such a universal concept and then I find out the different ways people perceive everything and remember “it’s all appearances to consciousness”
But the coolest part of that time-direction study, was there didn’t seem to be a consistent pattern to how aboriginal Australians arranged the images, until it was realized that the issue was where the participant was sitting, because they were consistently arranging them East to West.
Because these languages have absolute direction. They don’t use left/right, but north/south/etc.
this is your gentle reminder to stop fighting against your adhd and instead structure your life around it
buy a pack of chapsticks and put one in the pocket of all of your coats and jackets because you always forget to bring one and chapped lips is sensory hell
leave important things where you can see them. if they go in a box or a drawer you will forget they exist
put any appointments or deadlines in your phone calendar As Soon As you get them. set a reminder for a week before, a day before, an hour before, as many as you need as often as you need them.
when that little voice in your head says "i dont need to write that down, ill remember it" that is the devil talking!!! write it down anyway!!
plan for down time. have a few hours at the end of every day to just do fun stuff like engage in your hyperfixations. even if you didnt get all of your work done that day, have the rest anyway. you probably spent the whole day beating yourself up for not doing what you Should be doing, so you still need the break.
if you never eat vegetables because its too much effort to chop and cook them, get the frozen or canned shit. it doesnt go off for ages and you just have to microwave it. theres no point buying fresh vegetables if they just keep going off and being left to rot in the bottom of your fridge
if you struggle to decide what to have for dinner every day, take the decision out of it. choose a set of meals and eat those on rotation until you get sick of them, then choose some new ones and do it again.
its not stupid if it works! our brains literally have a chemical deficiency. you are allowed to accommodate yourself. go forth and stop making your life more difficult than it has to be because "this shouldn't be this hard". it is hard, so make it easier.
I don't care what your perception of the female body has been warped into by the media and advertising prevalent in culture. eat some goddamn carbs
The amount of people I know IRL and online who skop meals and then feel exhausted and try perk up with nicotine and and an energy drink before ending up so anxious they make themselves sick pisses me off. You need OATS!!!!!!!!
I went to a boarding school in Denmark (efterskole) for two years in the mid 00s, whose entire thing was “healthy eating and exercise leads to a healthy mind leads to the ability to learn and become an enlightened and informed participant of society”. the one thing they kept repeating over and over is “don’t drink your calories it will make you anxious and hungry and if it’s in the form of Coca Cola the caffeine will only exacerbate this”
We would regularly have guest speakers on a variety of topics - an anorexia patient, a person who’d studied abroad in the USA, a person who freestyled their further education (this was about to be abolished so not an option for us, but still an inspiring talk), a person who’d refused their military service and was instead doing community service (and why), and so on and so forth.
At one point we had a guest speaker come talk about it his work with juvenile delinquents.
He was the overseer of a house where these kids (our age! Some younger!) lived - not a prison - and where they would receive schooling to complete their mandatory primary education in a setting where social workers were on hand to assist and basically the whole point was to nurture the kids in an attempt to prevent them from choosing a life of crime and/or become dependent on the welfare system due to inability to work. They had support, teachers, people who believed in them, etc.
And yet these kids were failing. They were unruly, anxious, restless, spent their breaks smoking or going to the corner shop for soft drinks or snacks and were too wired to settle down at night to sleep so would often wind up sneaking out and causing trouble - even if the trouble was only some half asses graffiti on a bus stop .and in the morning they would be too exhausted to get up and would take half a day - until lunch, when they would be going on their corner shop lunch break - to wake up.
The problem was: these kids weren’t eating proper food. They were subsisting on nicotine, sugary snacks, and Coca Cola. So this guy, who’d heard of our school, got in touch and requested meal plans and then introduced mandatory breakfast and lunch, with dinner still optional, all following our school’s carefully designed meal plans (vegetable frontloaded with only 100g meat per person, one vegetarian day, one fish day, all bread made with whole meal flour. And since this was Denmark, dinner was a “cold table” i.e. rye bread with various topping choices, salads, and any lunch leftovers reheated as a side). And he made it mandatory for all the staff too, and assigned seating groups with a staff member (we had this at our school too), so that each meal resembled a family meal.
And suddenly these kids were having complete breakfasts with oatmeal porridge and yogurt and toast and some fruit and milk and orange juice, which gave them a solid source of energy to start the day, and they had a hot meal for lunch, and after a about a week of this dinner attendance skyrocketed. The kids weren’t restless and anxious anymore. Most of them voluntarily quit smoking and most of them stopped getting a soft drink from the corner shop too - they weren’t hungry anymore, so the sugary craving went away. These kids, just because they were getting three solid meals every day, flourished. They could concentrate in class. They were awake in the morning. They didn’t stay up late wired and restless. They all graduated and went back home and didn’t see the inside of any system, welfare or criminal, again. These kids didn’t want to be troublemakers - they just (for whatever reason) didn’t have the foundation they needed to succeed and that foundation, it turned out, was proper nutrition.
Really, truly, please do not underestimate eating. Don’t skip your meals. Take care of yourself.
anyway yeah DELETE YOUR FUCKING ADVERTISING IDS
Android:
Settings ➡️ Google ➡️ all services ➡️ Ads ➡️ Delete advertising ID
(may differ slightly depending on android version and manufacturer firmware. you can't just search settings for "advertising ID" of course 🔪)
iOS:
Settings ➡️ privacy ➡️ tracking ➡️ toggle "allow apps to request to track" to OFF
and ALSO settings ➡️ privacy ➡️ Apple advertising ➡️ toggle "personalized ads" to OFF
more details about the process here via the EFF
fanfiction writers when a character is remotely non-human
there's this word in Serbian 'vukojebina' which literally means 'the place where wolves go to fuck' but they use it to mean 'in the middle of nowhere'. it sure does the job well, but the visual stayed with me longer than I would have liked it to.
for chinese we have 鸟不生蛋, which is used to describe a land so barren and remote that not even birds would lay their eggs there.
In German we have "am Arsch der Welt", which means "at the world's ass"
In Finnish it's "Jumalan selän takana" - behind god's back.
I propose that these are all the same place. The world's ass, behind god's back, where birds would not nest and where wolves go to fuck.
Australia has "Woop Woop" (origin unknown but dating to late 1800s if not earlier) as in "they live way out in Woop Woop". "out beyond the black stump" is a similar Aussie phrase.
On another token, Poles say 'hen, hen' when describing something being far away but like, affectionately??
When I was a kid, someplace out in the sticks was "Left Armpit, Pennsylvania."
Computers are very simple you see we take the hearts of dead stars and we flatten them into crystal chips and then we etch tiny pathways using concentrated light into the dead star crystal chips and if we etch the pathways just so we can trick the crystals into doing our thinking for us hope this clears things up.
How does it feel to be the most Galaxy Brained person in this entire thread
Well that certainly belongs on the post
why would this distress you friend the dead star crystal chips are just singing to each other with invisible ripples in the fabric of reality itself perfectly normal stuff
Meet Pando, not a forest but a single tree. Every trunk of the Quaking Aspen is genetically identical & connected by a single 80,000 year old root system, making it one of the largest and oldest living entities on Earth!
A god
I'm a few pages into your family lore tag and um??? A blurb tagged as the first in several incidents you had to convince the authorities you were your mother's child? There's more than once instance of this? If you are ever in a mood to recount I would love to read about some of these they sound interesting if not hilarious.
So when I was in second grade I broke my leg. Or more accurately, the girl I was head over heels in love with broke my leg. We were in after school care, milling about the playground in the september heat, and Erica decided to liven things up by telling me to lie down on the ground while she jumped off the top of the playset because she saw it on TV and If I Really Loved Her I’d Do It.
In my defense, I was seven. In hers, Erica had problems the way most people have family heirlooms.
She was probably aming for my chest but thankfully missed and slammed her 65lb body feet-first onto my leg, then tumbled forward and got a piece of tambark in her eye. Being concerned that she might have hurt herself jumping on me, I tried to get up and…
I don’t recall my leg hurting. It was more an intense and sudden lunge of panic that something was WRONG but I was unable to identify what, beyond my foot not obeying my brain anymore and sticking out sideways at an angle I’d normally have to work for. I called out to the two teenagers that were supposed to be watching us and eventually they disentangled long enough to come look at me, shaking and only holding myself up with the aid of the slide, and declared that if i wasn’t bleeding I should shut up and walk back to the outbuilding with the rest of the kids.
It is worth noting here that I was a supremely unattractive child, bones growing almost too fast for my skin to keep up with, with joints that bent too far and the physical coordination of a three-legged gazelle on an an acid-coated escalator, so I was also nearly constantly hurting myself doing one dumb thing or another. Maybe Tiffany and Dylan had legitimately forgotten thier first-aid training. Maybe they didn’t care or thought I was faking. Regardless, I had to listen to them, so I stood up as best I could and tried to follow.
I lurched along after the group like a particularly pathetic zombie, growing increasingly distressed about not being able to perform normal motor functions, eventually managing to convince Tiffany that we should call my mom to tell her to pick me up early. She couldn’t be bothered to look up my parent’s work number, so I ended up calling the home number and telling the answering machine that I hurt my leg and couldn’t walk.
Mom, being at work, wouldn’t hear the message until she got home three hours later. In the meantime, I crawled onto the aged futon and lay there listlessly, watching the ceiling times twist and contort as I tried not to have a meltdown in public. I distinctly recall wondering if I was going insane like in the movies, and if they made straight jackets in my size.
What had actually happened was that Erica had broken my Tibia (the big lower leg bone) in two which is a serious fucking emergency in anyone but particularly in a chronically underweight and anemic child. So for three hours, I lay there, slowly bleeding out.
So Mom arrives at Five PM like normal with the kiddie wagon because she assumes I’ve twisted my ankle or some other kind of nonemergency and finds me “actually gray” on the futon, which you may recognize as a color healthy human children aren’t. She hauls me home post-haste and immediately into the car to go to the closest Urgent Care, not wanting to wait for an ambulance to Stanford hospital in rush-hour Bay Area traffic.
We arrive, and mom begins describing my symptoms to the admitting nurse, who interrupts her to demand paperwork information.
“What’s the Kid’s name?”
“[Gallus] [My Dad’s last name], I’ll write everything down for you just- I think she’s going into shock-”
“And your name?”
“Lucy [Mom’s last name]”
“…are you this child’s legal guardian?”
“Yes! Here, this is my ID and Insurance, just please get someone to see her I’ve never seen her like this-” Mom offered her, getting frantic.
“Sweetie.” Nurse Horrible leaned over the counter to squint at me over hier horn-rimmed glasses. “Is this your mother?”
“Yes?” I replied, watching her wobble and distort like an owl on acid, vision going black around the edges.
“What’s your parent’s anniversary?” She demanded as I melted over the edge of the wagon like one of Salvador Dali’s watches.
In Nurse Horrible’s defense:
1. Mom was already professionally known by her maiden name when she married Dad, and since he’s not a stick in the mud and name-change paperwork was a fucking pain in the 90′s, she’d never changed it.
2. Mom is a round, soft-faced woman with pale eyes and rosy complexion and at the time I looked like Brown-eyed Gollum in a He-Man wig. I don’t look like her. I don’t look like my dad either. I look like my Dad’s sisters. Kind of.
3. You are supposed to keep an eye out for kidnappings and abuse.
On the other hand:
1. I was able to recite my parent’s anniversary, my home address, knew both of Mom’s middle names and like five other things that a kidnapped kid probably wouldn’t know.
2. I was very obviously fucking dying.
Eventually Nurse Horrible sat back and told my mom to go wait with me and the doctor would be out soon. Mom compiled, and sat with me, trying to keep a conversation going with me about how I’m being so brave and yes those plants are fake, you don’t have to go to school tomorrow, no they don’t have a fish tank here but that would be a good idea-
Until I started blacking out.
Mom’s admittedly very good “Don’t Panic In Front Of The Injured Child” snaps when she has to start shaking me awake, and starts screaming for help, anyone, anyone please my child is dying- Which summons a doctor from the back, where she’d been wondering why it had been so quiet.
Dr. Awesome immediately has me transferred to a gurney, hauled into the back and… I only kind of remember what was happening at this point, but I remember the big old bag of blood, getting sticky pads on my chest and a plastic mask on my face.
Some time later I remember waking up and feeling MUCH better, at which point I wanted to sit up and ask everyone what they were doing to me out of legit curiosity.
Dr. Awesome did a very good job of explaining
MEANWHILE, out in the waiting room, Dad had arrived to comfort Mom and be there to see me, followed shortly by the Police.
“Sir, Ma’am, can I see your IDs?”
“Sure, why?” Said Dad.
“Is the child that was brought in here earlier yours?”
APPARENTLY, when Nurse Horrible told Mom to sit and wait for the doctor, instead of telling the doctor there was a dying kid in the waiting room, she’d called the police to report a kidnapping. So now the cops are there, Horrible is trying to convince them that My Own Mother Has Kidnapped Me, Dad is beyond confused, Mom’s ready to cut a bitch and Things are getting real tense when Dr. Awesome stops the conversation with:
“[HORRIBLE], THAT IS NOT THE PROCEDURE, AND THAT KID CODED. CONSIDER YOURSELF FIRED. PLEASE ESCORT HER FROM THE PREMISES.” then hastily explained to my parents that my heart hadn’t stopped for long and given that I was asking informed questions about the nature of radiation, I probably didn’t have brain damage.
“YOU CAN’T FIRE ME!” Shreiks Nurse Horrible, and while she might have been right about the correct precedeures regarding the firing of a medical professional in the state of California, she was wrong to pick up and throw the vase of fake flowers at my Mom, which even I managed to hear from the back where I was eating Jello with the Much Cooler Nurse.
At the sound of the Crash, Much Cooler Nurse ran to the doors and started giving me a play by play:
“Aw, now she’s done it the crazy B-” She glanced back at me. “…uh, butterfly.”“Yeah, Yeah! Dogpile! Get her out of here!”“Oh great now I’m gonna have to stich up his hand too.”“C’mon what did they teach you at cop school? Cuff her!”“Your momma is fine, sorry kid. Been waiting for her to lose it for a while now.”“Yeah that’s right, walk away and leave me with all the paperwork again.”“Ok Sweetie your parents can come in now, do you need anything else?”
“Was Dr. Awesome right that I should eat as much Ice Cream as possible?”
“Yeah, also you should get sprinkles.”
“I like oreos better.”
“Them too then.”
I ended up being in the cast for five months and my foot STILL sticks out sideways.