Latest Posts by alex-seity - Page 2
this may be an Unpopular Opinion (even on tumblr) but like the 8-hour workday is just Too Gotdamn Long
like even sitting in an office for eight hours a day isn’t particularly pleasant (or healthy, as we are beginning to see) but when we’re talking about doing *actual work* for that same amount time it gets pretty fucking brutal
doing literally *anything* (even leisure activities) for eight hours straight tends to be less than enjoyable but when we’re talking about things like construction, landscaping, factory work, and hell, even foodservice and retail, eight hours is a fucking ETERNITY
i might just be a lazy weak-willed bitch but honestly i think i’m not entirely wrong
UHMMM THERE *IS*??? It's called Rowing with the Wind (1988). Iirc there's another one called Gothic (1986) but I haven't watched that one.
when most people see frankenstein stuff in stores during halloween season they’re totally normal about it. but when i see frankenstein stuff in the stores i get up on the shelves and start howling because i know that little green dude is the direct product of an angsty goth teenager writing highly intellectual prose in imitation of her historical philosopher parents while her groupie sister is being impregnated by lord byron in the next room after stalking him across the continent after his divorce and her boyfriend percy is tripping balls on his kidney disease medicine (opium) and hallucinating dead naked women while trying to avoid polidori the 20 y/o doctor who challenged him to a duel (also the inventor of the first vampire novel in the english language after a story he stole from byron told that very same night but made gayer out of revenge even thoug-
Hey eret where do you get the fake boobs my friend has been feeling really dysphoric lately and her birthday is coming up so I wanted to buy them for her so she could hopefully feel a bit better
From my experience, Amazon is the most convenient place to get this sort of thing. Just look up "Breast forms" and go from there. I'll go into more detail below on the different types you can get though (Sorry this post gets long!)
I'm not sure if I can post even censored images of what these look like on tumblr, so I'm gonna play it safe! :)
There are two main types of wearable fake breasts that you can get:
Breast Forms - These are very convenient and can just be slotted into a bra. Generally range in price anywhere from $20 to like $80 (USD) depending on size and brand. If you get these, measure for a bra after you get them because the size the form says it will be and the actual measurement you get in a bra size calculator for your body may be significantly different (generally better to go for a bigger size of bra as bras have adjustable clasps and straps that you can make smaller if needed, but you can't make them bigger.)
Pros: Very convenient, generally cheaper, realistic weight, can wear for a long time without issue Cons: Only look good if worn under clothes, can be very delicate (punctured by sharp things easily, this ruins the form) Brands I've used: Vollence, Feminique, Y-Not
Breast plates - If you see a cosplayer with fake breasts where their chest is showing, they will almost certainly be wearing a breast plate. These are basically silicone vests with breasts. They can be incredibly convincing if done correctly, however they do have downsides. For example, you have to cover the transition between plate and skin otherwise it will look bad. It can also be challenging to match skin colour sometimes. Generally start at $100 USD and only get more expensive from there depending on size and brand.
Pros: Look very realistic, can wear clothing that reveals one's chest if wanted, have realistic weight and feel, very durable, perfect for cosplay Cons: Generally more expensive, have to hide transition lines between skin and plate, hard to match skin tone, cannot wear for long periods of time as it covers your whole upper torso (skin needs to breath), very inconvenient to put on (I need a hair net as it gets stuck on my hair), have to dust on talcum/baby powder before each use to help with getting it on and comfort. Brands I've used: U-Charmmore, Roanyer (they have an entire store for this kind of stuff, even like male muscle suits)
I hope this helps!
Gender stuff is really bizarre, I'm not sure why it feels comforting for me to have breasts at times, but it just does, so I go with it. I'm still working stuff out myself :)
I'm crying over ancient Roman epitaphs, and I don't mean this as an intensifier to express myself. I mean i'm just sitting here weeping like my nose is running
Reblog to say "Crocine, lightly rest the earth on you."
"In life she was a dear good woman." 
*incoherent sobbing*
One in heart, twins in disposition...God.......
There is so much pain in these words. Someone loved this little girl very much. Just. AAAAAAHHHHH
i'm a fucking wreck
this has wrecked me
For Novice Writers: the quick test for Are You Being Scammed Or Not...
I read a sad case today of a young writer who had had her story rewritten into illiteracy by a so-called publisher, who then abused her in email when she wrote to complain. She wsn’t getting paid for her story – instead she was actually buying copies of the anthology to show people that she had sold a story. And I thought, it is time to remind the world, and to enlighten young writers, about…
Yog’s Law:
Money flows towards the writer.
That’s all. All writers should remember it. When a commercial publisher contracts a book, it will pay an advance against royalties to the writer. Money flows towards the writer. Literary agents make their living by charging a commission of between 10 and 20% on the sales that they make on behalf of their clients, the writers. When advances and royalties are paid by a publisher the agent’s percentage is filtered off in the direction of the writer’s agent but the bulk of the money still flows towards the writer. If a publisher ever asks for any sort of financial contribution from a writer, they’re trying to divert money away from the writer, in direct contravention of Yog’s Law. If an agent ever asks for up-front fees, regardless of what they call them (reading fees, administration costs, processing fees, or retainers), then they are trying to divert money away from the writer, in direct contravention of Yog’s Law. It’s a brilliantly simple rule. We should thank James D Macdonald for it in the best way there is. Buy his books
Money flows toward the writer.
No, that doesn’t mean that the author should get paper and ink for free, or that he won’t pay for postage. It does mean that when someone comes along and says, “Sure, kid, you can be a Published Author! It’ll only cost you $300!” the writer will know that something’s wrong. A fee is a fee is a fee, whether they call it a reading fee, a marketing fee, a promotion fee, or a cheese-and-crackers fee.
Is this perfect? No. Scammers have come up with some elaborate ways to avoid activating it. But it’s still a good and useful tool, and will save a lot of grief. Any time an agent or publisher asks for money, the answer should be “No!”
Ironically, I’m still thinking about what you said that day.
For the past year, I’ve been getting myself into knowing people. The internet is full of wonders and there’s a place for everyone, even me, who was never good at this whole socializing… thing. Six years ago, I wouldn’t think I would have more relationships than I could count with my fingers. I didn’t even have a phone, and I was sixteen. But now I worry I’m not going to be able to keep up with my socials. That sounds so stupid, and it is completely beyond my understanding how I came to sound like a popular person… which begs the question: do I have lots of friends or am I just having multiple superficial, short term relationships? Or alternatively: how do time, space, shyness and sincerity work on the internet.
Time works very differently in virtual spaces. You already know the running gag of a meme or a trend dying a week after it becomes viral, but I’m not writing about that. I’m writing about the vertiginous speed at which you might be forgotten; not as a trend or as an influencer, but as a person. As a face. The weather changes quite fast in online chats, and people come and go as they please. And on that note, having a deep conversation with an anonymous account in a public forum is a strange experience, you feel both naked and accepted, both vulnerable and understood. That’s a friend you make and miss at the blink of an eye. Once, a person on those forums told me the most comforting words I needed to hear at that time: write who you are. Doing that made me able to self-reflect and find myself when I was deeply lost. I could never thank them, because, as I said, the rain is heavy and the sound is muffled. You never know when the other has left, or if they ever heard you in the first place.
It can also pull the strings of space, both closer and further away. I remember the spring of 2018. I went to Sweden and made three friends who all liked Homestuck; now, for the past years, I’ve managed to still talk to them through my phone. Isn’t that awesome.
And cliché.
So far yet so close, so close yet so far. And even then, there’s an impossible distance that eludes every metric. I’m talking about coldness. You see, even if we have everyone at the palm of our hand, we might not be able to talk to them sometimes. We have places to be and other people to meet, not to mention activities we like to do alone. Meanwhile, an ice wall seems to be rising between you and the other. Relationships get cold quickly. Or maybe that’s just me. “It would be too weird to call them now” “Does he even remember me?” “What do I talk about?” I have these questions because I worry I’ll be rejected. Fear of rejection: one of the most present on the internet, because fictional space means distance is made up too, which is a good thing since you can block anyone that hurts you, but a bad thing since anyone can marginalize you as well. Conclusively, we have full agency in what near and far mean; that’s both empowering and frightening.
Following the last train of thought, I see anonymity as a boundary in public space very few communication media have. Anonymity; this monster that seems to have shadowed all internet discussion. Let’s get this out of the way first, anonymity only exists as a concept. Even if you can fake an identity, there are parts of your true self that are impossible to hide. If you choose not to show your face, your voice still expresses who you are. If you express yourself only by text, your writing style informs of a surprising number of distinguishable features that make you up. Secondly, I’ve learned that being anonymous isn’t necessarily harmful. By one side, there’s those who use it to shield themselves for real-life consequences of spreading hate. By the other, however, and since you choose what is known of you, there’s the more general population that use it to be themselves while also being safe—they can be hurt psychologically, but never physically.
As expected of a place where people have control over the boundaries between the private and the public, people here show more honesty than elsewhere. No one can judge your body, your voice, or even your nationality if you don’t let them. Your personality alone may speak without fear.
Even then, coldness is still unavoidable.
Aristotle—sorry to pull this guy out of his grave, I’m a philosophy student and can’t help to do constant parallels—Aristotle wrote about friendship in terms of a space that surpasses another. That means you and I are not friends because we go to the same school, but because we want to meet later at the park. This, in online relationships, translates to “we are not friends because we play the same game or talk in the same forum, but because we call each other in Discord later”. Although there’s a joy in playing games with certain people, they aren’t always our authentic friends; the ground between gaming-buddies and friends is misty. This is why I met so many people, but not as many friends along the way. Most people I discussed this with had the same experience of finding interesting folk while playing a game, growing emotional investment toward them, and abruptly seeing them disappear like they never existed. So coldness is unavoidable, because when you face the uncertainty of the future, when fear of loss crawls by your back, it’s really hard not to build a shelter made of the thickest ice around your heart; not to escape having hopes, so you can’t have them crushed either.
I got myself into knowing people on the internet thinking it would be easier, but ultimately friendship is the same wherever you find it. Time seems to fly faster, but people come and go, so have fun while you can and cry when it’s over. Distance is fictional, but you don’t need to stay anywhere, be it here or in real life, if it makes you feel uncomfortable. And sure, this conception of virtuality comes in part from exploring it, and in part out of my own biases. There are things you might relate to that are ultimately subjective: this place is immense, its people, diverse... its "weather", strange. Everyone follows a different path. And ironically, I’m still thinking about what you, apparently a stranger, said that day.
You told me about the snow in Finland and the solitude of snowflakes, about friends long-lost and the impossibility of time. About cookies, both in a browser and in the oven; about humans, both stupid and wishful. Morning routines, favorite candy, nail ideas, the sun in Australia, the cliffs of Norway. We shared poems and songs, and I listened to your troubles and you listened to mine. All of these voices I’ll remember and consider my friends. Even if I lose them in the digital space, my arms will always be open to them, and to any kind stranger.
I just found out I turned half the male population gay
Story goes, a couple of years ago I digital painted this accursed image:
I don’t visit tumblr all that much these days but today I did, and I found a comment that said something along the lines of “Is this the original Ricardo Megamind meme?” and I was like “WHAT MEME?”. So I googled it and:
MY NAME IS MARLENA SIDOR. I AM (or was until my tools broke) A FREELANCE DIGITAL ARTIST FROM POLAND. AND I PAINTED THIS SH**
I don’t mind it being a meme. It’s a fanart. I painted it for fun and because I really like that movie. I see this entire thing as a form of flattery. Also, you’re welcome, since this may be the closest you will ever see of a “live-action” Megamind (and considering how all the recent remakes of old classics are, it may be for the best).
I only want to know one thing, WHO THE F** IS THIS RICARDO?
I wasn’t tripping! There’s a game with the exact concept of op in which you and a friend have to fight over who has the tallest tower using magic cards. I played this a lot as a kid and after making the deepest search of one (1) google search, i found it: the name’s Castlewars, and it’s on Kongregate.
ES6 will feature a quest featuring two wizards who live in opposing towers who both hate each other because the others tower is taller and they keep using magic to make their own taller. You can solve their issue in several ways. By killing one or both of them, or you can blow up both of their wizard towers so that nobody has the tallest. Or you can join in on their pettiness and build your own very tall wizard tower.
Hey,
There's a comfy space in my mind, I've made room for you. We can hug and eat cookies or we can just talk about the rain- about this strange weather that covers the moon with a grainy filter. About the pictures you took of me when I wasn’t looking. Hey, Sometimes I feel like I don't know you, and I love that because it means you are you and I am me. Like when you admire someone so much you don't want to be them, you want them to be themselves. Hey, I just want to be with you so I can tell you how I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I love you so much that I almost forgot.
Segueixo sense entendre-ho
Segueixo sense entendre com sempre em perdo quan floreixen les magnòlies. No em faig a la idea que la boira pot ser tan freda com íntima i la pluja tan càlida com angoixant. Se m'escapa el sentit del vent i el somriure espiral de de les fulles de tardor. I encara m'és impossible saber per què no em puc acostumar a la teva olor.
No poem
No poem can do this right.
I promise you I'm trying,
but how can these words tell you
that there's so many feelings
where words won't fit in.
Love falls short
and the word pain is too little
for this strange hunger I have
when I can't eat your lips.
It's not that I can't sleep,
or that part of me is still watching the sunset;
it's that I am wandering around it
in circles
and that no poet can point at it
without . missing
Reblog if you have made a friend online that you would love to hang with, but they live far away.
Letter to a dysphoric me
No one hates you.
Your curly hair is getting everything tangled up again
and I can't help but to tell you to cut it.
Trees and frogs and birds didn't choose theirs
and it's hard that yours doesn't fit,
that it doesn't show in the mirror,
that it feels like a cage sometimes
and that the ivy you grew around doesn't make it prettier.
There is no "but,".
There's only a blotched corpse
just strong enough to keep sleeping in.
I just want to remind you
that I'm here.
Aquesta setmana he estat pensant en com t'estimo.
Dir que t'estimo molt és quantificar-ho,
i els números no se'm donen gaire bé.
(però t'estimo molt)
Dir que t'estimo com els gats a les papallones és infantil
(tot i que dec ser un nen per tu)
Que t'estimo com el coixí del meu llit no seria cert
perquè no vull dormir;
vull passar la nit murmurant secrets dolços.
Dir que t'estimo com l'olor de les flors és molt cursi
(però a vegades soc una cursi,
i per cert, les magnòlies et quedarien molt bé)
Potser
com l'olor d'humit o
com el so de la pluja que canten les fulles,
com els ulls plorosos quan s'acosten al foc,
com la rosa a les espines i com les espines a la sang,
com un dolor plaent
(el meu dolor)
o simplement
com jo a tu
és com t'estimo.
(coming to terms with a snail)
I've stared at every corner
and listened to the same dull buzz for hours.
When a sound grows loud outside
you won't need to cover your antennas–
I know you like rain.
Can you hug other snails?
And eat the lips of leaves,
and tell me what they taste like?
Would you do that- for us who can't walk.
D'entre totes les estrelles,
em sabia la més freda
i llunyana.
Les mans tapaven el blanc del cel
i m'encongien en un mar negre
「just llavors vaig veure més mans tapant el mateix sol– milers de mans,
cadascuna la més singular
i més llunyana i més freda.」
Quin joc de llums més únic,
el veure que algú sent el mateix que tu,
i que tot i que siguis a anys llum de distància
i que no el puguis abraçar,
encara li puguis dir:
"vols ser amic meu?"
Alteritat
Si dins d'un mar d'estrelles
tu fossis aquella altra,
si no et trobessis en les fotos de l'habitació,
si no sabessis com s'encén el llum,
com et sentiries?
Et perseguirien fantasmes d'entre les mantes?
Buscaries diaris en els calaixos?
O ballaries amb el desconegut?
A one minute person
I don't get the meaning behind your hair clip.
Bubbly glasses pierce through the back of hundreds of people, looking what's not there.
(A person, a fragment of it, maybe.)
Listening to music and tapping your fingers-
that doesn't really help me, but I'd be glad to imagine the meaning behind your hair clip.
Aquest és un petit poema visual que vaig fer farà un any i que mai vaig posar en imatges (fins ara).