‘Sup, Tumblr. I like to draw, sculpt, and punch things. I reblog a lot of Magnus Archives, D&D, art, comics, Stucky, Spideypool, Phlint, nature, music (especially 90s and early 00s), Good Omens, Pokemon, 00Q, archery, animals, space, girls, games, cool home decor, and miscellaneous interesting things. I tag everything obsessively and logically (e.g., stucky art, 00q, depression, etc.), so if you have your triggers blacklisted, my blog should be pretty safe.
I occasionally ramble about my various roleplays or personal life or mental health; feel free to blacklist “teddy talks” and/or “2am ramblings” if you don’t want to see those posts.
May 2023: With a few exceptions, I will be on hiatus. My beloved cat unexpectedly passed away on 8th of May. It came as a complete shock, and I am not handling anything well at the moment.
Note to minors: I’m well beyond adolescence, and this blog may occasionally (albeit rarely) contain NSFW content. You’re welcome to follow and interact as your laws permit, but please do so with caution. The internet is wilderness, and you are responsible for curating your online experience.
Took my tiny child with me to the Halloween store. Walked in and immediately realized it would be a terrible mistake.
They had those jumpscare machine things everywhere, lots of spooky noise machines, scary looking animatronic things, crazy decorations, just the whole 9 yards and then some. I immediately went to turn around and leave when I heard a noise coming from my arms.
My one year old child who gets scared if we cough…. was laughing.
She makes this precious “eee!” sound and starts vibrating when she sees something she really likes, usually an animal or a balloon, and she points right at the big zombie thing by the door and does that. I carry her in past a huge 10 ft tall Pennywise inflatable, and she smacks me to tell me to stop so she can look. She ponders him for a moment, and his glowing light-up eyes, then points at his hand and shouts “BEEM!” Which is her word for “balloon.” She made us stand there under Pennywise for at least 3 minutes, which is a really long time for a one-year-old.
Then, she begs to get down, so I let her loose and she just books it all over the store. Finds the creepy demonic looking babies and shouts “BABY!” then gets this confused look on her face and tries to wipe the “dirt” off their faces. Decides it’s not worth it, goes and picks up a severed hand decoration, hands it to me and says “hand.” Yes, my dear, it is a hand. And yes, that severed foot has “toes,” you’re very right.
Finds the wigs, runs down the aisle shouting “hair! hair!” and grabbing her own sparse little headfuzz so hard I think she’s going to rip it all out. Then she found the speaker in the wall that was blaring Monster Mash and she demanded I pick her up so we could “DANSSSE”. But she got distracted by the big spider decorations, which she christened as dogs by running toward them and barking.
She ran up and down the aisles of costumes touching the fabric and making her little “tss tss tss” giggle that she does when she’s having Much Too Good a Time. Every so often she’d stop, look back to make sure I was there, and point at something and vibrate with her aggressive “EEEE!”
A man turned a corner wearing one of the creepy latex masks. He immediately started apologizing to me, saying “I’m so sorry, I’m looking for my friend, I don’t want to scare her.” Meanwhile my child is standing there looking up at him with the most confused look on her face. Not scared, just confused, like he is so dumb and she can’t figure out why he would want to make that stupid face for so long. But he rounds another corner all hunched over, she flaps her arms and sighs, and takes off to go scream at the creepy lawn decorations.
When it was time to go, nothing could convince her to come to me willingly, so I had to promise her one last look at the balloon man while I picked her up against her will. Pennywise placated her, and we left the store with a smile on her chubby little cheeks. She demanded we wait and watch the big inflatable-flailing-arm-tube-man out front, the one that was bright orange and had a jack-o-lantern face, and she bounced and wiggled and danced in my arms despite its fan being louder than the loud motorcycles that scare her on our walks. She waved bye-bye to it as we left for the car.
Basically, that was the cutest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life, and it’s so crazy how so many things are culturally taught and kids are just… immune to that. All she saw was bright colors and things she recognized and could name, in a place she could explore and touch. She has no concept of clowns being scary or zombies being A Thing or what constitutes “creepy” and “spooky” and “gross.” To her, a severed arm with gore hanging out the end doesn’t represent pain or violence, it’s just “arm,” and it’s got some weird stuff on the end that’s funny colors. They’re just things, there’s no context for it.
The world is weird and beautiful and it’s so cool to see it through the eyes of someone who is so New to this planet and hasn’t been influenced by society and culture yet.
Robot characters who are given names like SL-308-62 but instead of their human friend going Well let’s call you Sally for short, they instead ask the other if they Like their current name.
“Do you like your serial number?” they ask. “Yes, quite. It reminds me of who I am” the robot replies. “I have heard others like me go by different names after some time, and maybe one day I’ll choose one for myself, too. But right now that is my full name, yes” they continue.
Because it’s not your decision to make whether or not the robot will receive a new name. It should be theirs only. What’s the difference? One is more complex and the other is simplified. They were both given by strangers instead of themselves.
“62 will do,” they conclude. “It’s my model number - there will be no other 62 after me.”
Robots who instead start assigning numbers to their human friends
“Not that I mind,” I tell SL-308-62 one afternoon as we enjoy our shared lunch break (I have my packed lunch, and 62 has connected themself to their portable power bank) “but why do your call me ‘four’?”
The LEDs along 62’s appendages twinkle- a tell that they’re mulling over an answer.
“It’s a nickname,” they explain, “you are my fourth acquaintance aboard the station, and I’ve assigned you a serial number. Your full designation is F-001-04.”
“What does the ‘F’ stand for?” I ask, curious and charmed.
“Friend,” SL-308-62 says, their tone fond. “It stands for friend.”
had conversation with my friend earlier that went like “jonathan sims has six disabilities but he’s not medicated for any them, just cigarettes and statements” “jon thinks he’s in pain all the time because god is personally mad at him” “he thinks it’s the beholding” “nonono, actually he thinks this level of constant pain is completely normal and he’s just uniquely bad at handling it, it’s his fault for being bad at coping” “he thinks ceiling lights are audible to everyone and he just sucks for letting the noise bother him”
wait but ceiling lights are audible to everyone… aren’t they???
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