I Need To Prove A Point To My Mom. Reblog If You Can Realize You’re Asexual/aromantic In Your Teens.

There’s so much to unpack here:

Pack of Beakers

Goth Beaker

The Beaker snitching and pointing out the photographer

The Beaker that’s about to unload on the photographer

The terminator strut before the ass whooping and you know he’s moving at speed because of the blur

The ominous feeling that you know this is 3 in the morning

I feel like Goncharov needs to be added to this list asap!

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

It’s the BEST

one thing about me is that i say floor time and lay down on the floor until i feel better

Normally I’d say yes, however I just finished looking for an eggless French toast recipe :)

I am so, so proud of you.

son.

anyway i wanted to draw a short comic about jason

BAROLD! :D

my cat is incredibly sweet and wants nothing more than to be within a 5 ft radius of a person at all times, gently chilling in your orbit. he is also VERY, VERY DUMB 

it’s a slow morning so husband and I are reading, not making much noise. meanwhile, Barold goes downstairs to use his box and when he comes out, he starts yowling like his lil heart done broke. husband goes to to the top of the stairs all worried like, “Barold, what’s wrong?”

kitty zips back up the stairs and just oozes onto husband’s feet, purring high-powered lawnmower style. the realization hit us both at the same time…

this. boy. this itty bitty kitty boy. 

he couldn’t see or hear us for ten continuous seconds, forgot. we. were. home. and immediately burst into tears !!!!

a sluge 😔

When I was in middle school, I tried to learn how to crochet. I knew how to knit already, so I figured ‘how hard could it be’ and used my Christmas money on a brand new set of aluminum hooks and a how-to book.

To say it was difficult was an understatement. I spent hours pouring over my book, begging to gain some inkling of understanding from what felt like incomprehensible runes. My reward? One lopsided trapezoid of lumpy fabric and a resolve to never pick up a crochet hook again.

And so life went on, I finished middle school and high school without giving crochet so much as a second glance. In college, I read about how crochet couldn’t be replicated by a machine, it was unique in a way that knitting and many other fiber arts weren’t.

For Christmas last year, my girlfriend gave me what I now consider to be my most prized possession: a crocheted plush of my favorite pokemon. I raved over her skills and, since she never learned how to knit, we decided to have a yarn date at some point and teach each other our respective skills.

We never did get around to that yarn date. She passed a few months after our declaration, leaving me to inherit what was left of her yarn.

Nearly a decade after my initial attempt, I got ready for the toughest battle of my life. My weapons? One skein of yarn, a YouTube video, and a crochet hook that I had somehow never gotten rid of.

I slowly made my way through the video, redoing my work a couple times until I was satisfied with my product: a small, slightly misshapen rectangle.

I looked at my pristinely-made pokemon plush with hope for the first time in months and thought to myself, ‘maybe crocheting isn’t the hardest thing in the world, maybe you were just 12.’

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world. Maybe I’m just 21.