Fandom to Random

What's up? This blog may be a mess, but it's my mess. - A. (she/her, 20, Cancer sun) [studying history, anthropology, & humanities] {insta is @philodoxe_}

Last update
2021-04-22 06:54:49

    they’re shutting down yahoo answers in a month….future generations will never know how is babby formed…..they will never plumb the depths of digital knowledge asking “does spider have pusspuss?”……they will never know if they can name their band radiohead 2……..this is the modern burning of the library of alexandria. all those answers lost forever……RIP 

    the fact that stories told unfathomably long ago have somehow reached us makes me go insane. someone somewhere cared enough to share a story, to memorize it, to write it down. sappho survived because she was quoted in other works and then grenfell and hunt fished out literal fragments from an ancient garbage dump in middle egypt. beowulf survived because because robert cotton maniacally collected books and when his library caught fire, someone chucked the nowell codex out the window. my grandfather recited and retold thousands of verses of ancient sanskrit literature before he hurt his head one day and those translations and retellings remain only because i listened to them as a child. sometimes engagement with stories is listening and nodding along and holding on to them. engagement with literature does not start with cleanth brooks and end with breaking the canon, whatever that means. humans have always engaged with literature in meaningful ways i hope you know this.


    Hey kids, take it from an old forest hag: it's totally okay to half-ass your hobbies

    ... trace that picture for your journal

    ... like old cars without knowing how to fix them

    ... watch the movies without reading the comics

    ... super glue the part of the model

    ... learn one (1) way to make a braid

    ... watch how-to videos for every step of the recipe

    ... google every second word in that article

    ... use the automatic setting on your camera

    And don't be ashamed. Real life isn't school. The all or nothing mentality is not healthy. Don't gate-keep yourself from stuff that might be fun. Shrug, grin, and hold eye contact with a boomer while you do it. It's good I promise.


    yeah!!! good words


    “frugal” eating recipes be like

    oh its SO EASY, just buy this fifty dollar item for forty-nine dollars off with a coupon that you can’t find and don’t have time to cut out at a store that doesn’t have outlets in rural areas and then you can fill in the rest with odds and ends that are SURELY already taking up space in your kitchen that you totally somehow forgot about! [photo of a table full of perfectly arranged meats and fresh vegetables] this little family secret is SO easy and delicious just looking at it will make you gain ten pounds ;) so make sure pace yourself! this right here should be enough to stock your fridge for the next ten months at LEAST so you don’t have to worry about the hassle of mealtime again for awhile!


    you know what website actually has my motherfucking back? myfridgefood, put all three (3) things in ur cabinets into their site & even if it’s some stupid shit like “bread cheese and pickles“ they’ll still throw at least half a dozen Depression Meals™ your way


    For my followers!

    -FemaleWarrior, She/They


    Also try Jack Monroe’s Cooking on a Book Strap. Basically austerity meals Jack made for themselves and their young child when they were living on benefits, everything works out at pence a meal. Sidenote: Jack Monroe is a fantastic queer person and activist and you check them out regardless.   



    Budget Bytes -

    recipes broken down by cost per recipe and per serving, meal plans, meal prep, tips on stocking a pantry and how to freeze food


    ok, let me explain

    I’ve never really done anything like this before. I just wanted to make a comic based on the greatest post on this website and I wanted it to become more and more detailed as it went along. It took me a little over a year to finish and it was all made without using a tablet.

    Please click on the individual images to get the full experience. Thank you.

    Original post by @fuckersupreme


    i want to shine a little light back on this, it’s a great post


    this really happened


    My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.


    do they smoke weed?


    Yes, actually.


    you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette?


    It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)


    They don’t look like they smoke weed.


    Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad.


    Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.


    I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING 


    Well that escalated quickly……


    What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*


    haha oh my god

    who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.

    love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.

    and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.

    “the goo pile that is now your body”

    i’m dying over here, jesus

    please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.


    *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot… *leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*


    this dude playin omg 


    Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*
    Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*


    happy 4/20 know your history