Concept: Angels But They Look Like Stingray Skeletons

Two job-hunting resources that changed my life:

This cover letter post on askamanger.com. A job interview guide written by Alison Green, who runs askamanager.

YALL. Holly Black has a list of resources she's used for writing her books on the fair folk. I'm OBSESSED. I love her work and world building. it's so true to the heart of faeries

A goblin and an elf have decided to defy tradition and get married. Their ceremony will be held in the magical forest in accordance with elven tradition.

Fuck you, City of Ur!

If you're dumb enough to buy a cartload of copper this weekend, you're a big enough schmuck to come to Ea-Nasir's Imported Metals!

Bad deals! Low grade copper! Thieves!

If you think you're gonna find a bargain at Ea-Nasir's, you can kiss my ass!

It's our belief that you're such a stupid motherfucker you'll fall for this bullshit! Guaranteed!

If you find a better deal, shove it up your ugly ass! You heard us right, shove it up your ugly ass!

Bring your deposit, bring your sealed tablet, bring your messenger! We'll send him back!

That's right, we'll send your messenger back through enemy territory!Because at Ea-Nasir's, you're fucked six ways from Sunday!

Take a hike to Ea-Nasir's, home of challenge pissing! That's right, challenge pissing!

How does it work? If you can piss six feet in the air straight up and not get wet, you get no down payment!

Don't wait, don't delay, don't fuck with us, or we'll turn you into a eunuch!

Only at Ea-Nasir's, the only merchant that tells you to fuck off!

Hurry up, asshole! This event ends the minute after you make a donation to the palace, and it better not bounce or you're a dead motherfucker!

Go to hell! Ea-Nasir's Metals: Sumer's filthiest, and exclusive home of the meanest sons of bitches in Mesopotamia! Guaranteed!

So, it's a well know fact that Eight smells of honey, so what do you think the rest of the Doctors would smell like (Yankee Candle Gallifrey Limited Edition Scents Range?)?

this is an incredible question, and i'm extra excited to answer it because i have smell-color/texture synesthesia! most of my senses overlap significantly - so let's switch on the smell-o-vision and see what's up.

first doctor: the attic. dust, vanilla, clean linen, wool. creaking floor boards. the smell that i associate with a bright window in a dark room. warmth. old, yellowing books. humming. somewhere in the distance, windchimes.

second doctor: the back garden. gardenias, petunias, roses. sweet but earthy. grass and rich, damp soil. cold water. a brook babbling over large, rounded rocks. a recorder. two people talking quietly, then laughing.

third doctor: the garage. metal, oil rags, newspapers, old boxes. clean clothes and grimy hands. a sigh of relief. someone scratching out notes with a fountain pen. operatic singing, including the instrumentals.

fourth doctor: the parlor. honeyed whiskey, smoke, old rugs, books. a drunken game of charades. a gramophone playing softly. glasses clinking. loud, booming laughter. scattered applause and a bow.

fifth doctor: the lawn. freshly cut grass, a cup of afternoon darjeeling with lemon. falling asleep in the sunshine while reading. "tangy." daisy chains. birds singing, friends strolling. ozone - chances of rain later. pages turning.

sixth doctor: the scullery. eggs, toast, ham, and fresh fruit. a spice cabinet. lavender soap. freshly-brewed coffee: two creams, three sugars. morning sunlight through a window prism. reading the paper with your feet up. a friendly and intellectual discussion.

seventh doctor: the library. ink, parchment, leather, your grandfather's cologne. brass knobs on locked mahogany doors. a clock ticking on the mantle. vases filled with fresh lilies. dusty photo albums. someone muttering. typewriter keys clacking. ding.

eighth doctor: the music room, adjacent to the library. the scents mingle with lemon furniture polish, old brocade upholstery, and oil paintings. velvet and satin. darjeeling with honey. an open window. sandalwood. a violin: the whole house sings with it.

shalka doctor: the basement near the cellar. red wine, cheese, oak, cinnamon. chaise lounges, wooden chests, decorative beaded lampshades from the 1920s. an Édith Piaf record plays quietly. framed sepia pictures on every surface. a fireplace glows with embers; he's taking a nap. there's a plate of snickerdoodles on the mantle. (thanks, six.)

war doctor: he hasn't been home in a while.

ninth doctor: the main stairway, just past the foyer. a little trace of every room, plus the metal slag and sulfur on his clothes. a dab of vanilla. halfway up the stairs or halfway down? up, he decides. humming, he reaches the top and wipes the blood from his boots. he hangs his jacket on a hook and smiles.

tenth doctor: the master bedroom, if you can call it that. it's mostly storage space: boxes, filing cabinets, drawers, antique desks, and shelves crammed with mementos. maps cover the walls, but he rarely looks at them. his bed is always made, and never slept in. wood pulp, musk, candle wax, ink, and roses.

eleventh doctor: the games room. chalk, polish, tea brewing, a splash of whiskey from the decanter. billiards and backgammon sets. the Candy Land and Monopoly boxes are well-loved but shelved. the arcades along the back wall are dark and dusty. in a corner, a man plays both sides of chess. he sighs.

twelfth doctor: the office. wood paneling, Persian rugs, a jukebox. piles and piles of ungraded essays. a coffee with ten sugars and a peeled orange. black nail polish, chocolate, spice. every book in the room has been read and annotated, twice. dents in the ceiling from throwing and catching a cricket ball. somewhere, a guitar strums. laughter.

thirteenth doctor: the balcony. fresh air. a hammock creaks. an empty flask of vodka, pink sunglasses, rainbow socks with toes. crystals and half-finished machines litter the stone. plants in painted pots, little gurgling fountains, trays of homemade incense baking in the sun. oh, and windchimes.

so, this turned into a bit of a poetry project, haha.... oops. if you got this far, i congratulate you. in the same way that Yankee Candle names can be very abstract, i wanted to capture the general mood of the doctors' scents and how they relate. ❤

Pride on Christopher street, 1990, NYC.

photo & caption by Mariette Pathy Allen [website] [instagram]

never got around to seeing the livestream so thank youuuu person who made this animatic second of all that's exactly what singing along to good luck babe is like

I grew up reading Calvin & Hobbes, and one of my favorite running jokes was the snowmen that Calvin would build.

everyone meet Pickles

Realized I never actually posted Pickles on here once he got his button eyes. Pickles is 100% hand knit on circular needles from a nice mystery fingering-weight merino yarn that was gifted to me. The only sewing on Pickles is the yarn holding his eyes on, everything else was knit into his form. 18 inches long and about 9 tall, Pickles took about 230 hours to create.

He is soft and traps heat well when held. Stuffed with nice high loft filling, he gives a solid and comforting feedback when hugged.

Pickles has NO pattern, but instead was inspired by/adapted from African flower crochet plush patterns using knitting techniques. (if you aren't a thread artist, imagine you heard a song and so you decided to write out sheet music for a completely different instrument)

What does the arab in your carrd mean? Is it like afab and amab?

.. i’m palestinian