you're basically home to me dude but it's not a big deal at all. don't worry about it

Women want one thing and it's quite obvious, A large affordable interconnected North American Rail Network

I know this isn't ninjago guys but I finished this 17 hour painting for my art class and I was proud of it so...enjoy.

I love Egypt fun fact about me. :)

A PAINTING????

obligatory

SCROLL BACK IT'S ART

HOLY FUCK

A man who goes by his first name

A man who goes by his last name

A woman who goes by just one name

A woman who goes by many names

...and Nathan Ford sorry I can't think of a nice way to end this. Really bringing down the team aesthetic here Nate

#Grifter. Hitter. Hacker. Thief. LOSER WHO RUINS MY TUMBLR POSTS

Therapy is risky because sometimes they'll just ask you their standard "why can't you, though", and you think you're making some good point by saying something like "well if I don't do anything with my life then what's the point of being alive in the first place" and your therapist gets that look on their face and you immediately realise that your dumb ass just got caught, pinned to the ground with your stupid-ass neck between the spikes of a pitchfork, and you are not going to wiggle out of there before you two unpack what the fuck you just said.

“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

bad kidz cool kidz

The tumblr code originated on July 2, 2012.

You can check when you signed up for tumblr by looking at this post.

please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts

Dragon Bones by artist Stefan Koidl.

[Image description: a closeup of an artwork, and the full artwork.  It’s a photorealistic painting of a person in a rowboat, seen from above, rowing over intensely blue water that starts out shallow but deepens, in which are the bones of a massive winged dragon.  The boat is about the size of its head sans horns.]

recently got into Leverage and I have to say. Elliot and Hardison are the PREMIERE example of the Texas/Deep South relationship. it's like. I hate you. I'd jump off a bridge for you. you're the worst person I have ever met. you're the only one who understands me in this room full of yankees. I'd give you a kidney, but you canNOT have my beer.

I DIDN’T LEARN ABOUT THIS IN DRIVING SCHOOL

Stop says the red light, go says the green

Wait says the yellow light, twinkling in between. 

KNEEL, SAYS THE DEMON LIGHT WITH ITS EYE OF COAL  SAURON KNOWS YOUR LICENSE PLATE  AND STARES INTO YOUR SOUL

THIS IS ALWAYS FUNNY

@irritatedlifeguard I agree with your tags.

…….thinking about this………..always thinking about this…..

the problem with being creative is that you start to feel very guilty when you haven’t created anything in a while

do you get upset when a field isn't ready for harvest at all times? your seeds are doing mysterious things in the dirt. but you have to leave them hidden in the dirt or they won't grow

Humans are unstoppable...Until they aren’t.

I’m not the most eloquent writer, but I’ve had this idea kicking around for a while and figured I’d put it out into the universe.

A lot of the basis for the “humans are space orcs” stuff is the idea that we’re pretty durable compared to many species, yeah? When it comes to physical trauma, we can bounce back from most things that don’t kill us outright, especially given the benefit of hypothetical space-age technology, and adrenaline is one heck of a drug when it comes to functioning under stress. 

But that doesn’t make us unkillable, and even though we can survive debilitating injuries and not die from shock, it doesn’t mean it’s fun. Dying of shock sucks, but at least it’s probably quick.

So - Imagine a ship, adrift in space, slowly being drawn into a star or something. In order to save the ship, someone has to repair the hyper-quantum-relay-majig on the hull or in the engine or whatever. Bit of a problem though- there’s a ton of deadly, deadly radiation (Wrath of Khan style) or poisonous fumes or, I dunno, electrical current, between the crew and the repair. Like, enough to kill most species instantly, so the crew is just like, ‘welp, guess we’ll die then’. But then.

BUT THEN

They ask the human. Because everyone’s heard the stories - you’re basically unkillable, right? Could you survive long enough in there to fix it? And their human goes real quiet for a second, but still says ‘Yeah, I could fix it’. And the rest of the crew is like, ‘Whaaaaaa, it won’t kill you?’ and the human repeats “I can fix it” (which isn’t an answer, but no one catches that, not yet at least), so they send ‘em in. And the human fixes it, they come back, the ship flies to safety, and the crew is thrilled to survive. If the human is a little quiet, well, they’re entitled after pulling off a miracle. Everyone else is just excited to get to the nearest station’s bar to tell their very own human story, cuz, ‘those crazy humans, amiright?’.

The good mood keeps up until the human is late for their next shift. At first it’s just faint unease, but- but they earned a bit of a lie-in, right? No reason to begrudge them some extra rest, even if it is a little weird for them to oversleep. They’ll be fine. Humans are always fine. 

(Right?)

(…Wrong.)

- What is… help. Help!-

- ake up! You have t-

- been days. You need sleep, you-

- nother transfusion. We could-

- out of sedatives!-

A week later, the crew finally reaches the station. They stumble into the bar, haggard and haunted. And over the next months and years a new rumor about humans starts to make its way through space. A rumor unlike any before.

‘Be careful with your humans’ it whispers. ‘Their strength is not always a blessing. Be sure they don’t do something they can’t come back from, because when a human dies… they die slowly.’

The thing is, humans can be tricky. And if they’re sufficiently pack-bonded with a ship’s crew? And that crew is in danger? They’ll willingly offer themselves up to make sure the crew survives.

They won’t tell their crewmates that whatever danger it is will just kill them slowly, that they can endure the exposure but not the long-term effects.

But the idea that humans can be fragile? Can die later from exposure to radiation or toxins or electricity or even smoke inhalation?

It seems preposterous!

There are too many stories about humans surviving all sorts of conditions that would kill their other crewmates. A human dying slowly, later, lingering and in agony? It’s a creepy story but of course it’s not true.

But then… another crew shares their own story. Their human volunteered to go into the danger zone to fix what needed to be fixed. Or maybe she had to retrieve a critical component or resource. And she lingered. Wasted away. Later the human doctors told their medical team there was nothing they could do but make sure she was comfortable, ease her pain before the end.

And yet another crew, whose human plunged through smoke and ash to make sure his crew could escape. He choked and coughed and couldn’t get enough air. Their medical commander performed an autopsy and found his lungs and throat and sinuses all coated in black soot and blackened mucus and red blood.

So the stories spread. Just because they don’t die of shock, just because they don’t die right away doesn’t mean it won’t kill them. They linger in agony or unconscious or waste away slowly.

But what’s most horrifying of all?

When other humans hear the stories from the traumatized crewmembers?

They aren’t surprised or horrified.

They say “Of course”

They say “I would have done the same”

They say “it was the Right Thing to do”

And they’ll smile (what the crew’s human would have called a sad smile) and toast to the dead. For making “The ultimate sacrifice for the folks they loved” and every human listening will say the name and drink a shot of liquor.

#close encounters of the awkward kind#I think my favorite aspect of this whole storytelling phenomenon we’ve got going#is it very quickly shifted from ‘humans are terrifying space orcs’#to ‘humans are pitbulls’#strong and vicious when provoked; incredibly gentle with those they love; will absolutely fight to the death out of loyalty#the bottom line of this folklore we’ve all built together seems to be that we’re not monsters and we’re not weaklings#we’re dogs

Human: *does a heroic thing*

Starfleet Captain: Good boy! *ruffles the human’s hair*

humans are space orcs. space orcs are good dogs.

I mean a girl could get emotional, though. because dogs, after all, are not made in our image: they’re made in the image of our most perfect friends. dogs are our best friends! and every dog story, every movie and book and anecdote, boils down to “I can’t believe we got so fucking lucky. we’re not worthy oh god they’re too good for us! they’re so good! we have to take care of them, we have to at least try to love them back as much as they love us.”

so when we imagined ourselves in the stars, we imagined ourselves as we are, yes – but mostly, as we would like to be. as we aspire to be. as really good friends.

an eight word story [in/sp]