You know my favorite bits in period dramas are the ones where the heroine is “not like other girls” and chooses not to wear a corset because let’s be real, no inteligent woman in a period drama setting would do that.
And then you can tell it was written by someone without a chest because next thing you know, they’ll be running off across a field or something.
Like girl, you just took off the only breast support you had, and now you’re sprinting across a field?? How is this not an issue??
And then they’re like “I’m a woman of science” but clearly no, because any woman who knows anything about weight distribution wouldn’t choose to fling off their corset whilst still wearing a poofy skirt. Like it’s there for a reason. It distributes the weight and keeps your 50 lbs of skirts from digging into your bare skin. And I cannot stress this strongly enough, IT SUPPORTS THE BUST. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. I’ll make an exception if they’re dressing as a man or have anything gender going on, but otherwise, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??
And then they say it’s because they’re painful or that they’re “instruments of the patriarchy”, except no they fucking weren’t, men wore corsets too, they were literally just bust support and historical corsets didn’t hurt, because they were made to fit your body, and they actually molded to fit it more the more you wore them. I know, I have multiple.
And if you think one couldn’t breathe, yes you could, people wore corset like garments for like 500 years, you think they would wear them if they couldn’t breathe? And no they didn’t lace them tightly except for special occasions and that was only a few people. In fact for most of history, it was physically impossible to lace boned garments any tighter then they were supposed to go because metal eyelets weren’t invented yet. You achieved the small waist look by padding out your hips and maybe your chest and sleeves creating an optical illusion
we’ve started feeding this tortoiseshell-point siamese recently. she’s beautiful, aside from the fact she has disturbingly big, bulging blue eyes. we’ve started calling her… ‘goop’
it’s goop!
GUESS WHO HAD GOOPLETS! SIX ENTIRE BABIES! mama goop held onto her gooplings for an entire week longer than she had to, so the gooplitos came out very well done and fluffy!!
nearly five years ago… since then, mama goop has aged significantly, and as she nears the end of her life, she’s been given a cushy retirement alongside her beloved husband, papa pumpkin. for everyone who remembers this post, the goop troop sends their regards
I have been doodling a lot on my iPad mini these days, after a couple of years of just not feelin’ anything artwise. But I have shamefully neglected to post them to Tumblr! So have an art dump!
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It started with a sheep. I was messing around with new watercolor tools and crosshatching tools, thought “that looks kinda like a sheep” and then took out the bits that didn’t look like a sheep.
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The noble Aukhound, originally bred to herd migratory seabirds. These majestic, slightly damp creatures are now used extensively in ecological restoration work.
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I do this whenever I see a frog.
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Then I was just in the mood for weird shadowy cloaked figures.
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You know that’s a clove cigarette.
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Portrait Of A Creature With A Chicken On Its Head
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Just two weird little creatures having tea together.
Explaining to straight adults that much of queer history happened within their lifetime and they were unaware of all the extremely important events and how many laws there were to prevent us from thriving because they werent part of queer circles themselves is like…
-leans in close-
How would you like to know about the war in Ba Sing Se?
My dad LOVES learning about the Cold War. It’s full of drama. Backstabbing, cross-double-cross, spy gadgets, secret identities. It makes for great stories and as a journalist he loves a good story.
Me: oh yeah, I was just watching a documentary on the Lavender Scare. Fascinating that it was so recent in our history.
Me: -explaining that the moral panic of the 50s slowed down in the 70s only to start back up again with the aids epidemic in the 80s-
Dad: I remember that. It was scary times because no one knew how it was spread.
Me: what if I told you… that they could have slowed the spread of it, but chose not to because it seemed like only queers were affected by it and the government didnt see any problem with all of us dying.
Dad: okay heres a simpler question for you- what’s with drag queens and Judy Garland and Barbara Streisand? I feel like every drag queen I’ve seen has a Dorothy costume in their lineup.
Me: -deep breath- okay so let’s go back to that lavender scare for a minute and how it intersects with the golden age of hollywood…
Me, ten minutes later: and that leads up to that famous picture of a drag queen dressed as Dorothy protesting in front of Trump Tower with the sign that says ‘surrender donald.’
Dad: that’s a pretty recent photo though.
Me:… uhhh… 1982.
Dad: … you’ve been hating that guy since before you were born, huh?
Me: oh man, wait until you hear about my opinions on Reagan.
A: well, a celebration of how strangely cursed our little corner of the internet can be. It’s also a community lead funding. Push. Tumblr costs money to run, if we want to keep our little corner of the internet it’s weird unique self, we’re going to have to foot part of the bill.
Q: when is crab day?
A: July 29th. I would have preferred a slightly longer lead time to get the word out better, But we work with what we can get and July 29th has already gotten some traction in other groups.
Q: how do I participate?
A: buy a mutual crabs, or if you’re broke, crab post crab memes.
Q: why crabs?
A: because admit it. most of us would love to get or give crabs to a mutual.
It has become apparent that the gothy DIY knowledge of years past has not fluttered out to many folks. Here, let me give you some quick suggestions:
The Tights Thing: Get a pair of tights. (Which can often be found at dollar stores and thrift stores!) Cut out the crotch, and cut off the feet or make holes for your thumbs and fingers. Ta-da! A shirt!
Things To Do To Any Garment:
Safety pins: Get lots of safety pins (which can also be found at dollar stores), and use them to make designs on an item of clothing. (I’ve added safety pins in a line down seams on jackets.)
Paint pens: Draw on your clothes! Write song lyrics or quotes! (This also works with bleach pens.)
Appliques: You can sew or use safety pins to attach damn near anything you cut apart from another garment, a patch, or pieces of other fabric to something else.
Change the buttons. You can buy all sorts of interesting buttons from fabric stores, Amazon, eBay, Ali-Express … you get the idea. Change the plain buttons on a shirt or jacket to interesting ones!
Add trim: Lace, ribbons, fringe, grommet tape … hell, you can even sew chain onto things.
Best wishes to these people obviously but I’m WHEEZING at the concept of a standard horror plot starter but the stranded travelers are an entire fully equipped orchestra.
It’s the prequel to every other horror film. Their haunting spirits play the background music.
Oh shoot, that actually would be a really cool concept. The film starts with no thematic music, and as each member of the orchestra is picked off, their instrument joins the soundtrack. Subtly, so you don’t really notice, and the end credits are a full orchestral symphony.
DUUUUUDE
Call that a death note
That entire thing could also be used brilliantly for foreshadowing!
Like, you suddenly notice a string instrument in the background music and you haven’t seen a few of them in a while. And the more musically versed you are, the more you figure it out (like in a mystery novel if you happen to have in-depth knowledge about the current riddle) while the “normal” people can get fooled into twists.
The non-musically versed audience hears a new brass instrument and is like “Oh shit, the dude with the tenor horn is probably dead!”, but then he suddenly appears perfectly fine and one minute later they find the body of the
Euphonium
player.
And if the orchestra members can hear it as well, then it’s of course another layer cause THEY would probably recognize who is playing. And depending on the director, they could go full ‘Tomato in the Mirror’ and imply they know but Just. Not. Say it. (cause why should they, they all DO KNOW). So they are like “Oh no…. No…!” and start looking for the corpse while the audience is still stuck at “Ok, a violin player, but which???”
immediately after dying you get a brief solo
And since absolutely no music at the beginning would be kinda estranging, I’d suggest one singular instrument and it’s revealed early on that a member of the orchestra recently passed, leading into the reason why they visited the castle in the first place, yaddayaddayadda, the plot commences
The first guy who died played the triangle
It is absolutely essential to me that the orchestra remains Bolivian.
One time Mr. Robinson closed the door to the classroom furtively and asked a student near the door to keep an eye on the door’s window in case anyone from the administration was coming.
He explained the next curriculum was one he had been explicitly disallowed from, but he didn’t know how we were going to cover the next portion of our history work fairly without covering it first. He said if any of us were offended by it or felt it threatened our beliefs to be discussing it, please talk to him and he would gladly find alternative work for us to do instead. But he asked if we would be okay not broadcasting too loudly to the administration (our parents were fine) about it.
At this point we’re on the edge of our seat. Forbidden curriculum? YES PLEASE.
“All right, do I have a promise from you you won’t tell on me to the principal?”
We, of course, promised.
“Good. Then let’s talk about World Religions.”
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(A side note here, if you ever have a not-forbidden courseload you want your students to really enthusiastically consume, I think pretending it’d forbidden will up interest levels immensely. The work was informative and we loved it, but the Secret Agent-ness of doing a SECRET ASSIGNMENTS and having SECRET PROJECTS and LOOKOUTS FOR THE FUZZ upped our investment in the material beyond description. Even if you DON’T have secret coursework, PLEASE DO THIS WITH YOUR CLASS SOMETIME. IT’S FUN.)
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At the start of the Great Gender Debate when someone would try to say boys and girls aren’t different and they can do whatever the other does, he’d super respectively ask them if they really thought that, or if they were saying it because they thought that’s what they were supposed to say, and encouraged us being honest about how we actually felt about the difference between between boys and girls and who was better.
Then lots of super fun shouting and throwing paper at each other and making desk barricades and more yelling.
(Keep in mind, this was 1999/2000. A lot of people didn’t even have internet at home. This was a small conservative town. Being trans or nonbinary wouldn’t have even been an option we knew about.)
Then he eventually stepped back into the fray of the Great Gender Debate and made us break down our points, which he had been taking notes of, on the white board and then had us carefully and intentionally refute or discuss them one at a time. Until we had reached a real and honest consensus that actually we’d been tricked into thinking gender was anything at all. Now when we said we thought neither was better than the other and being a boy or girl didn’t mean anything about what you could or couldn’t do, we fucking meant it.
One of our male classmates started wearing nail polish the next week and we told him it looked rad.
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One time it was a nice day out and even though we weren’t doing trig at that point he was like, “Wanna learn something cool? I’m gonna show you how to calculate how tall something is using shadows” and then we went outside and learned how to find out how tall things are by measuring their shadows and measuring the shadows of stuff we knew the length of, and then for fun we also independently worked out the world was round and how big it was.
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One of the times the cops were called on us it was because we were having a Hot Air Balloon making contest and people thought there were UFOs or spy planes.
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Another time we were just setting off dry ice bombs, lol.
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They changed the milk at lunch and we hated it and Mr. Robinson may have given us ideas about civil disobedience and direct action that led to the lunch room sit-in the schoolchildren ended up staging until they would switch the milk back. At the time it felt like he was being really cool, and he was, but thinking on it he may have also been using us as props to prank the administration and also give himself an afternoon off while all the administration tried to get a hundred 11-12 year olds to leave the damn cafeteria while we chanted about milk.
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We grew up in a town that was about 2% black. It was not uncommon for people living there to not know any black people at all.
One day Mr. Robinson told us we were going to be having a very important speaker come talk to us, and that he expected us to treat her with respect and deference. That she was one of the most important people we could be learning from, and we were honored to have her come to us. We all sat up, wondering who this important woman could be.
And he opened the door and it was one of the ladies who worked the front office, accepting our tardy slips and making us wait for the school nurse. A black woman, one of the only black people you’d find in the school.
She then sat down with us and talked to us about the racial history of our town. Explained to us what a Sundown Town was. Explained to us the racism she experienced growing up there. Explained the mistreatment of the police.
She wasn’t even that old. It struck us all. But you’re not even old. Is this still happening? Why didn’t you leave? Did anyone help you?
It was an incredibly powerful day.
When I went home to talk to my parents about it, they had no idea about any of it, even though this was the same town they had grown up in.
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Mr. Robinson would occasionally repeat this habit of special guests were not academics, just people who had lived in our town for a while, bringing in a lunch lady or a janitor, making us talk to them, learn our town’s history, learn to respect their jobs, learn manners and deference for the working class.
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One time he gave us bread, water, and ziploc bags and set us loose on the school to rub the bread on stuff, drip water on it, seal it, and watch what mold grew. The kid that got the grimiest piece of bread with the most enthusiastic mold would win.
We learned that many of the surfaces we consider the most dirty get the most regular cleaning, and so are in fact the least likely to produce mold. While many of the surfaces we eat off of and touch regularly are nasty as hell.
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Similar to the Great Gender Debate, one time he let class go wildly off course while we debated hotly for over an hour about The Lion King. I do not, for the life of me, remember the substance of this debate. I think The Little Mermaid may also have been a point of conversation? I just remember it got HEATED, and Mr. Robinson always thought these heated debates were REALLY ENTERTAINING and would quietly sit back and egg them on.
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One time he gave me detention and I cried through the whole thing thinking my parents were gonna kill me when I got home and instead when I got home my mom hugged me and told me how he’d called her and said I’d been really honest and showed moral fiber in standing up for a friend and taking the detention in the first place and she was really proud of me for being a good person or whatever and idk if he actually was impressed with my actions or if he saw that I was stressed about my parent’s reactions and wanted to mitigate that, but that was such a good move.
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IDK. I just have a hard time thinking of any teacher I ever had both as capable of chaotic dry amusement and completely upright righteous anger. He modeled for us what it was like to evaluate things based on merit rather than based on rules and expectations, and you felt that energy constantly.
This was the same teacher that got the cops called on our school like three times and would reward us for being good by spraying our hands with rubbing alcohol and setting them on fire.
I just remembered one time in like sixth or seventh grade (we had the same teachers and class both years so hard to remember which) somehow we got into a debate of “who is better, boys or girls?” and instead of stepping in to stop it our teacher formalized it and egged us on by providing thoughtful prompts and counters to each side and by the end each group had built a barricade of desks on either side of the classroom and we were throwing balls of paper at each other and screaming about personal hygiene while our teacher just watched and enjoyed a Baby Ruth candy bar.
He was the best teacher I ever had.
Plus like getting to set your hand on fire for good behavior is a way better reward than whatever dumb stickers or candies or whatever it is teachers usually use. “Behave and we will play with fire” is the BEST incentive.
I'm a Texan but I'm not much of a cowgirl, I think vegetarians are missing out, I am in love with Halloween and I like to scare people, I believe that everyone has the right to choose for themselves as long as they don't try to make decisions for others, I strongly believe that everyone should fall in love at least once in their lifetime, I love Drag Queens (they are AWESOME!!), my favorite part on a man is that flank of muscle just above the hip on buff guys, my favorite part about my body is my eyes, coffee is lifeblood, faith hope and love are the greatest gifts we could ever receive and don't ever be afraid of anything that you can learn because knowledge is power.
As awkward and strange as she naturally was her lipstick made it all seem deliberate
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