there should be a common English term for goosebumps that doesn’t invoke geese because it sure kills the mood when you’re writing and have to find a way around mentioning large naughty waterfowl
A professor, a CEO, and a janitor are in a forest when they discover a magic fairy.
The fairy says “I will give you what you most desire if you do someone else’s job for a day.”
The professor says “I’ll be an elementary school teacher. What can be so hard about teaching a bunch of 6-year-olds how to read?” so he is teleported into a classroom. After a few minutes, all the kids’ screaming gets to his nerves, so he throws all his supplies and gives up.
The C.E.O says “I’ll be a waiter. All you do is carry food back and forth. This’ll be a breeze” so he is teleported to a restaurant. After about an hour, all the annoying customers drive him insane, so he smashes his plates on the ground and gives up.
The janitor says “I’ll be an artist” so he is transported to an art facility. He glues all the classroom supplies and shattered plates to a canvas, then sells it for a billion dollars. The fairy asks the janitor how he was so clever.
fake relationship but its a king and his concubine that was once an amazing soldier but he couldn’t go up the ranks for whatever reason so the king was like listen. hear me out. you can be my strategy dude. u just gotta be okay w walking around shirtless a lot. and soldier dude is like man that’s an UPSIDE and yknow they end up falling in love
some idiot advisor: I can’t believe his majesty lets his boytoy attend these council meetings, it’s an insult to the noble institutions that uphold our nation, it’s an outrage—
a somewhat smarter advisor: you’re just mad bc he pointed out how dumb your naval attack strategy and no one laughed when you made a mean joke about him
Boytoy has gone from a top fighter who was well respected but in constant danger to wearing silks and eating grapes on daises. That fucked up rotator cuff was the best thing to ever happen to him
Bonus points: at least half the other concubines are experts in assorted fields, the monarch brings them to relevant meetings to both play up a reputation for frivolity, and make sure at least one person there doesn’t have an outside agenda.
girlapollo asked: Prompt: A modern day witch whose particular brand of magic involves those little rituals that for some reason most middleschoolers pick up. (i.a. Flushing icecubes down the toilet for snow, Saying a demons name in the mirror three times to summon it, Not stepping on cracks to protect mothers)
“That should do it,” El says to himself. He surveys the line of boardgames and snacks, of paper and crayons, of clay and sculpting tools. He nods in satisfaction, hands braced on his hips. Barring some actual intent, this visit should go well.
The doorbell rings.
Despite his preparations, El’s heart leaps in his chest. He swallows and heads slowly towards the front of his house. “It’s fine. It’s been a year. Surely they’ve forgotten about leap frog.”
“We have not forgotten about leap frog,” Pym, his sister, calls through the door. She sounds harried which is fairly common in recent years. Having three terrors graduate from the diaper stage does that.
El opens the door to find the said three terrors gathered around their mother, hands full of colorful backpacks and wide, menacing grins on their faces.
“Uncle El!” Imogene, the ring leader shouts. She’s missing two of her front teeth and her yellow pants are already stained with mud. “Are you going to turn Bill into a frog again?”
Bill, the youngest, looks sullenly up at El. “I don’t wanna be a frog again.”
The middle child, Elizabeth, named after El, hides behind her mother’s leg.
“To be fair,” El tells his sister, “you and I both know he wasn’t actually a frog.”
“He hopped,” Pym says shortly. “He ate a fly, El. I want all of my children walking and eating human food when I come back.” Her eyes narrow. “Do I make myself clear?”
El’s spine snaps straight. “Right, yes, of course! I– just, when will you be back?” He winces at the plea in his voice and tries to look more confident.
Pym stares at him. “Walking. Human food. See you Tuesday.” She drops a kiss on the top of each of her kids’ heads. El can feel the protection sigils activate on each of them, dropping a cool shield down to the earth.
“Tuesday,” El repeats. He squawks. “Tuesday?! Pym that’s nearly a week–”
“Behave for Uncle El,” Pym calls over her shoulder. “And if he does anything bad, use the thing I gave you.”
“I’ll keep him in line,” Imogene says. She waves enthusiastically at her mother’s back. “Bye Mom!”
“Keep me in line?” The children seem a lot more menacing all of the sudden. “Pym! What did you give them?”
“Insurance,” Bill says, obviously quoting his mother. He glares at El. “Don’t wanna be a frog again.”
Elizabeth looks up at him and draws a line across her throat before going back to studying her own shoes. She reminds him so much of Pym when they were kids.
He worries for his life.
“Tuesday,” El says to himself faintly. He makes a note to not be alone in the same room as Elizabeth. He goes for a weak smile. “Right, um, why don’t you all come in? I have some board games–”
“We don’t want to play board games,” Elizabeth announces. The gap between her teeth makes all her s sounds whistle. “We want to play hopscotch.”
“Hopscotch,” Bill says solemnly. He rummages in his pack to pull out a small box of chalk. “Mom says we can draw on your driveway.”
El just bets she does. Still, at least it’s not leap frog or rhymes and hand games or bloody Mary. “Of course. Yes. Go…do that.”
Bill and Elizabeth race off, dumping the chalk out on the ground as soon as they get to the open expanse of concrete. Imogene, a bare year or so older than them, walks at a more dignified pace.
“Don’t forget,” Imogene says to her siblings with the tone of someone with a lot of experience, “step on a crack and break your mother’s back!”
“Okay,” Bill and Elizabeth chorus. El, to his horror, feels the words sink into the ground, spinning and growing as the children begin to lay down the chalk lines.
This was not crystallized by the ocean. People. No. This is why artist credit is SO DAMN IMPORTANT THERE ARE SO MANY PEOPLE MISINFORMED HERE.
Alexis Arnold is an artist who creates crystallized books. Her work is amazing and beautiful, she’s made dozens of these.
This particular one was not made by her, however, it was actually created by Catherine McEver - who was inspired to try it after seeing a show of Alexis Arnold’s work. It’s literally the first picture on Google image results if you search for “crystallized books” and she posted about it on her blog showing other process shots as she made it.
TWO DIFFERENT WOMEN ARE BEING DEPRIVED OF CREDIT FOR THEIR CREATIVITY BECAUSE THIS FALSE INFORMATION IS BEING SPREAD. FUCK THAT.
Considering how many times I’ve seen the uncredited post on my dash I’m finally going to reblog it, with the proper credits.
I looked her up and these sculptures are really cool like look at these,
Like they’re so cool!
#look the only version of the fountainhead that can actually be mistaken for art
girlapollo asked: Prompt: A modern day witch whose particular brand of magic involves those little rituals that for some reason most middleschoolers pick up. (i.a. Flushing icecubes down the toilet for snow, Saying a demons name in the mirror three times to summon it, Not stepping on cracks to protect mothers)
