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We're All A Bit Mad Here...

@welshwoman1988 / welshwoman1988.tumblr.com

My AO3 is Welsh_Woman if anybody is interested! A compilation of craziness and uniqueness that covers everything that happens to strike my fancy on that particular day. Currently obssessed with Derek and Stiles from Teen Wolf. A multishipper who WILL NOT stand for ANY kind of hate. Acceptance of all here. Welcome, and please make yourself at home! (P.S. Madness not required, but entirely acceptable!) Header and avatar are done by sterek!
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allthingswhumpyandangsty

have you ever read a fanfic so good that you wanted to write a fanfic about that fanfic, but was too shy / too intimidated to ask for the author’s permission and too afraid that your writing wouldn’t be half as good as theirs and that it would be an insult to their work that was basically a literal masterpiece, so you just sat there fantasizing about their work and how beautiful it was and how you wished you could just eat it and how you wished canon could write your blorbos half as good as this writer did and how you just wanted to cry because you just loved that fic so much????

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onyxedskies

reblog if you are always ok with someone writing fanfic of your fanfic

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reblogged
rj-abacura
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funerealmind

the way aragorn runs is so chaotic

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jesterbells
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March Mythology Challenge Part 3 Part 2

Prompt: Creation

A low sigh falls from Pygmalion’s lips as yet another man around him falls into rhapsodies on the latest woman that has caught his eye, leaving the discussion that they were having to lament on the heartache of the woman refusing his affections. It is a wonder that anyone here can get anything done, with how often one or the other falls into lustful madness upon seeing a beautiful man or woman. Pygmalion does not bother to ask if the man has spoken to the object of his obsession; the last time that he tried to point out that obvious step to finding out if the man was alone in his malady, Pygmalion was subjected to a ten minute lecture on how his companion could not do something so base as approach his Muse as if she was a simple woman standing on a street corner. Giving up on thinking that they would ever get back to their conversation when Delias begins to compare his Muse’s hair to ‘the dark midnight of a starless sky’, Pygmalion makes his way out of the taverna and back to his workshop. It is not that he doesn’t understand his fellows’ flights of fancy, but shouldn’t there be a balance between the thrust of passion and the drive to speak of politics, art, and education? It does not seem so, if he went by the evidence around him, but he also cannot believe that he would be so foolish himself. There is a pause in his steps when he once more examines that last thought; was there a way that he could prove his steadfastness, despite never being struck by Cupid’s arrows as frequently as those he called his friends? His eyes fall upon the block of ivory that had been delivered only that morning, the ivory that he had been wondering about the form of, and had originally gone to the closest taverna to talk to his fellow artists about. Struck with an idea that could only ever come from Apollo himself, Pygmalion picks up his chisel as a grin spreads across his lips. If he could shape a woman that no man could not claim beautiful and still be unaffected, then he could prove - to both himself and his fellows - that there was a way to steer through the madness they all claim to fall under when in love. Mind set, Pygmalion gets to work.
#drabble#mythology#creation#my writing
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March Mythology Challenge Part 2

Part 1 - Part 3

Prompt: Hubris

Telemachus watches as his mother kindly deflects another lord insisting that it was high time that she admit that his father was dead, that she take another to be her king, to be her lover. He has heard the same thing ever since he was ten, ever since Penelope had told him that he needed to learn the way the courts worked. There even have been a few lords that tried to get to her through him, acting the doting lord to a son not their own, all in a bid to appear more fitting then the man next to him. He doesn’t know why they are so Gods-damned desperate to claim Ithaca; he would fight anyone who claimed otherwise, but he knows that his mother’s beauty wasn’t the draw for these men. Or, at least, the only draw. “I hail the most glorious woman in the world, whose beauty is only surpassed by the divine Aphrodite.” Grimacing, Telemachus watches as Antinous steps up to Penelope’s throne, taking her hand and kisses the back of it. He seems to not realize that every inch of her is tense and she is not so subtly trying to pull her hand out of his grip. It was men like him and moments like this that made Telemachus hate his father, despite being told what a hero he was, that him leaving them like this was for the best. That his honor, their honor, could not see him refusing. These moments made Telemachus wonder why staying and making sure that his wife did not have to scheme and plot to keep these pigs from slobbering over her was not honorable. That letting Telemachus actually know what his father looked like, instead of piecing together a ghost from stories told to him and half remembered memories was not honorable… Makes him wonder if - no longer when - his father returned, Telemachus would even be happy to see him. If his mother would be happy to see him. Or if they would just tell him to spend another ten years fighting in wars that had nothing to do with Ithaca… “My lord?” Turning, Telemachus sees a servant bowing at him, a slight frown pulling at their lips as they look at the lords sprawled around the hall. “There is a beggar asking for food at the kitchen door. I was unsure, with how low the stores have been…” “No.” A quick look at his mother shows Telemachus that she has managed to release herself from Antinous’ hold and is now playing the lords off of each other, making them more focused on proving they are the better choice than suffering through their affections. “I will see to it that they are well taken care of.”
#drabble#mythology#hubris#my writing
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For the March Mythology Drabble Challenge in the Cuddly Snuggly Discord.

Prompt: Labyrinth

It’s cold here. Cold and disorienting. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, doesn’t have a way to watch the stars or follow the sun. Nothing here but cold, stone walls and endless passageways that seem to twist and turn even as he walks down them. It can’t have been that long before he hears the first horde of voices echoing off the walls, hit with the feeling that there are others here beside himself. It fills with both hope and fear, the want to call out to them - to ask that they find him, help him - blocked by the knowledge on his father’s face when he was first thrown into this Tartarus on Earth. The voice ebb and flow, like the dim memory of a melody he heard as a babe, making him run and hide whenever they seem closer than they were before. He does not want to find out if the strangers will react the same as his father did, one hand coming up to tug at his ears - pointed, and at the top of his head instead of the sides - or skim over the stubs between them, some unknown instinct telling him that they’ll grow out into horns as he ages. Tells him that his presence, as wobbly-knees and pathetic as he is, would instill the same fear as if he were a fully grown man with a sword. Eventually, the voice dim and cease, a low murmur like a prayer before they’re gone. A part of him wonders if he should feel saddened instead of relieved when his wanderings lead him to their bodies, but he has given up trying to act normal by now. It happens like this for a few times before he realizes that this could be used as a way to mark time, that the voices, the people, could tell him when a year has passed. Nine times did he hear the voices rattle down the hallways, nine times did his body change and grow, allowing him the strength to move their bodies to a central location, use the small blades and ornaments they carry to hack at the floor enough to place them in shallow beds. A flick of metal to set those same beds alight as he prayed to a god - someone, anyone, that might be listening - to show him what his sin was and how he might be able to atone, might be able to finally free himself from a life that was little more than a slow death. Nine times before there was not a horde of voices also calling out for understanding, for mercy, for help. Instead, a single voice calls out something that he has never heard in all his years here. It calls out a name. His name. For the first time in nine years, Asterion heads towards the voice instead of away.
#drabble#mythology#labyrinth#my writing
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hulking-godless-child-beast
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charlesoberonn

It's gonna be such a funny mess when Donald Trump dies of a stroke on April 1st, 2024.

  • Naturally everybody will think it's fake because of the date only to lose their minds (both positively and negatively based on their opinion of trump) when realizing it's real
  • There will be massive celebrations in the streets and on social media and lots of predictable "don't speak ill of the dead" discourse about those celebrations
  • Weird evangelicals will pull some weird number trick talking about how Jesus was conceived on April 1st and that makes Trump a sort of messiah and people will make fun of that
  • The Republicans (after they're done with the faux-sadness and faux-outrage) will stomp over each other to be his successor but none of them will succeed. They'll tear each other apart and have no single nominee for the November elections.
  • There will be discourse about if Biden and the living former presidents should go to his funeral (they won't, he was a traitor insurrectionist)
  • The Ukraine-Russia War immediately goes in favor of Ukraine as morale in the Kremlin is reduced. China similarly backs off from its threats on Taiwan.
  • Ten thousand new memes are made, some sticking around for years to come.
  • Not a month later a bunch of unofficial biographies of Trump hit the bookshelves, many with new details about just how awful he was.
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rivkann
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thisthinginabox

Like to charge, reblog to cast

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my-darling-boy

I was having writers block and so I took a break and soon enough it was 3 in the morning and I had impulsively sewn together a tiny mouse you’re welcome

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my-darling-boy
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my-darling-boy

I see people reblogging this with “to buy” but this pattern is free??? Someone even asked me “why don’t you charge money for it, it took you forever to put the document together” and I said “Not a lot of people have money and if they have some fabric scraps and a couple of buttons lying around they can make themselves a little mouse friend for free and that might make them happy and that makes me happier than receiving money???” Make yourself a liddol creacher! Heals the Soul!

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bilesandthesourwolf

i dont sew, but if i did, i would have about 100 of these

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clotpolesonly
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scarlct-vvitch

i honestly dont get why people stopped reblogging things they like on here bc like what are you afraid of??? people thinking youre cringey?? guess what bitch! youre on tumblr! it’s all cringey! reblog everything you like and do it shamelessly no one fuckin cares

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lesbianpraetor

people stopped reblogging things because it is a lot easier to like things than to reblog them on mobile, and that’s what the majority of people use. It’s a design flaw not the users fault

idk if most people are aware of this, but if you hold the reblog button down you can literally just swipe to the icon of the blog you want it to reblog to. it‘s quick and easy

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lady-divine-writes

I just reblogged this for a second timr. Wrote this note, too. On mobile. Took seconds. No biggie.

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saint-batrick

oh shit, it never occurred to me that people might be unaware of this!

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socksnstuff00

i only have this one blog so for me a like is almost always an instant reblog

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reblogged
bilesandthesourwolf
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uwiguwi

if you’re reading this

a lump sum of money is on the way to you

  • it happened today, damn that was like 3 days maybe?

It Works the money is on its way!

Need this.

Of course

It worked tho

I just won $500 off a scratch Ticket lottery.

ENERGY

OKAY LEGIT I REBLOGGED THIS YESTERDAY. ME AND MY PARTNER ARE IN SUCH A TIGHT SPOT FOR MONEY ATM AS WE ARE SAVING FOR A DEPOSIT ON A HOUSE. I GOT PAID DOUBLE WHAT I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO GET AND SO DID HE AND HONESTLY I CRIED SO MUCH TODAY IM SO HAPPY AND RELIEVED

Positive vibes!!!!!

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realtrashwitch
#pleeeeeaaaassseeeee
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