~ kototyph ~ Leave a comment

ao3tagoftheday:

alwaysatomicconniseur:

ao3tagoftheday:

hazeldomain:

ameliacareful:

ao3tagoftheday:

[Image Description: Tags reading “vibrators, STEAM-POWERED vibrators, you heard that right folks”]

The AO3 Tag of the Day is: True aesthetic dedication

Spouse is an engineer and I’m here to say steam DOES get hot, but it is quite possible to make a steam-powered vibrator that doesn’t. Think of a steam locomotive, where the boiler is kept hot but the wheels, which are powered by the boiler, do not.

So you have a boiler by the bed and then TUBES and LINKAGES, GEARS, COPPER, all the good stuff. Hell, the steam might even be used to generate electro-magnetism! So it weighs 30kg (about 65lbs). It’s awesome! Beautiful! Scientific! LOUD.

CHUNKA-CHUNKA-CHUNKA

Summon the coal-shovelers to power up the fuckinator

Summon the coal-shovelers to power up the fuckinator

The most common Victorian era steam powered vibe was called “The Manipulator” and it was a weighty beast. This is the most common photo of it.

Behold. The Fuckinator.

~ kototyph ~ Leave a comment

gallusrostromegalus:

botanyshitposts:

botanyshitposts:

hey I don’t think I’ve ever talked here about corn wolves. here let me find a gas station real quick

okay so I’m in the middle of nowhere stopped for gas in a small town in Iowa rn and my Internet is REALLY spotty so I hope this posts but

as people who have followed this blog for longer might know, sometimes I go hang out with this corn genetics lab at school, as in we meet up on friday nights to talk about corn science and stuff. once the corn genetics subject of the week is covered sometimes we go off track and start talking about other stuff. as u may imagine from a corn genetics lab, most of the members grew up on farms here in the midwest, and one night we were talking and a couple of the people started discussing an urban legend that they were taught as kids to keep them from running into their family’s cornfields and getting lost. one of those people was from Nebraska, and the other from rural minnisoda- these were isolated incidents of this urban legend happening, and all of us were deeply engrossed in this. i cannot make this shit up, this is the story:

there are wolves that live inside the corn when it’s full grown. they’re huge, and are camouflaged to hide in the fields. their breathing sounds like the misting of the irrigation systems set up over the corn in these areas for water. if they see small children in the fields, they kill and eat them.

now I’ve lived my whole life in suburban Iowa, and I can vouch that we don’t have irrigation systems like that here; our group came to the conclusion that this must be the reason that from our 7 or 8 person sample size, the corn wolves did not exist in Iowa, the largest producer of corn. I’ve never seen the corn wolves mentioned anywhere else outside that one night with the genetics lab, and it really fascinates me because as a horror/creepypasta person myself, I think it’s a great example of those strange little urban legends that never get written down on paper. the fact that it’s never appeared anywhere else in my life kind of confounds me, because it’s a really cool story. i like to go driving around rural Iowa when I’m home from college, and i always end up thinking about the corn wolves.

neither of the people believed it as kids btw lol

This is a FANTASTIC piece of Americana and cryptic lore. I propose making them a thing immediately.

~ kototyph ~ Leave a comment

spneldritchbang:

Sign-ups open for the Supernatural Eldritch Bang! 

What is an Eldritch Bang? It’s a new SPN bang that focuses on the eerie, creepy and unnatural. Give us all your horror tropes, Lovecraftian monsters, and Gothic scenes.

Whatever scares you, this is the place to write (and art) about it.

Writers must produce a fic of at least 5k words that revolve around any topics that tie back to any related horror themes. Artists will then claim stories and produce one piece of art (or more if you want) for that story.

Challenge will be run simultaneously on tumblr and LJ.

Posting begins on Halloween. Fast, quick and fun. And did we mention scary? 

Any questions? : Schedule : Rules : FAQs : Ask A Question :

Ready to sign up? 

~ kototyph ~ Leave a comment

amphata:

mikkeneko:

obstinatecondolement:

tinysidestrashcaptain:

bittensweetwolf:

To those fanfic writers that are not english native speakers: sometimes, when I read your work, I notice that english isn’t your first language, because there are strange phrases. I know immediately that to you, they are perfectly normal, since it’s the way your language describes things. And I love that, because here you go, creating your art, in a language you spent so much time learning, just so that other people can enjoy your stories! It is so amazing and I will never criticise you for that, but instead I will be thankful that you put in all the effort.

I love you all, you are amazing. Keep creating, please!

Writing is hard. Writing in a language that is not your native tongue is even harder. I love and respect the hell out of you all!

I read a book a while back, which I have completely forgotten the name of, but the author mentioned teaching poetry workshops to children of different age groups and said that the a lot of the younger kids came out with some really sublime stuff because they hadn’t internalised as many cliches and boring stock phrases in the English language yet, while the older kids tended to write very formulaic stuff in comparison. I think that writers working in a language that’s not their native tongue bring a similar quality to their work. You’ll see phrases that a native speaker could never come up with that are so fresh and beautiful.

We native English speakers tend to do a lot of washing in each others’ water, so to speak, when it comes to writing. We’re all drawing from the same stock pool of set phrases, idioms, metaphors, and classic literary references. 

Go to any Blockbuster (well, you can’t) and read the titles of the wall of B-listers. Dozens upon dozens of puns that are small variations off a handful of tired, overused metaphors. We laud a good writer as one that can put the words together in new ways – and ESL folks, you can do that without even breaking a sweat.

You second-language folks, you bring the fresh and the new into that pool. You put words together in ways that are absolutely correct, but we never would have thought to. You make our language younger and I absolutely am grateful for that.

I’m fucking bawling, thank you all, this means the world.

Concept Playlists

~ kototyph ~ Leave a comment

freesnack:

As Requested 

+ You walk out of your shitty roadside motel room that you’ve been staying in since you ran away from home. It hasn’t been cleaned since the 50s but at least no one will find you out here, in the middle of the desert. You head towards the ice machine, but someone is already there. It’s the most popular girl in school, who you’ve had a crush on since 6th grade. She’s run away too. 

+ The year is 1987, You’re part of a ragtag band of misfits that have been friends since childhood. All of you are gay, but no one has admitted it yet so rifts are forming in the gang. One summer morning you roller skate over to your best friend, the only other girl in the groups house to tell her you’re in love with her. Will it tear group apart once and for all or bring you back together? 

+  You and your closest friends sit on the roof of your suburban house watching the sunset. The crisp, nearly-autumn breeze blows against your over sized hoodie while you sip cheap, lukewarm beer from a paper bag. No one says anything, no one has to. 

+ It’s 1:30 am and you’re driving out of the city with your girlfriend asleep in the passenger seat. there are lights glowing on the highway and in the city behind you but it feels like its just the two of you, and you wish it could last forever

+ You’re on the road with a crappy RV you bought somewhere sketchy with your best friend and her dog on the trip of a lifetime trying to make it as a bluegrass singer. You fall in love over crumpled maps, roadside lemonade, campfire sing alongs, and grimy dive bars where you pay for meals by washing dishes. 

+ You walk into your room, satin gown flowing in your wake,You dramatically collapse into a dark velvet chair as if the cameras are rolling. You put on a record and pour your fourth glass of red wine. Your fifth husband has mysteriously died, good thing he left everything to you in the will.

+ You’re at a Halloween party in the basement of a seedy punk club, so wasted you can’t see straight. The ground starts shaking. More than it was before, are you imagining it? No. The bands screaming has gone from angry to terrified. The apocalypse is happening right now. 

+ You stand in front of the house at the edge of town. The house with boarded up windows. The house with broken glass in the yard instead of flowers, like everyone else in your small misty mountain town. The house no one talks about. The house you only go when you have no where else to go. You have someone to find in there, someone you need to bring home. 

+ You’re a music producer who died overdosing on cocaine at a club in the 70s. You awaken in the exact spot you died in the year 2073. Youre hungry, thirsty, and hornier than you’ve ever been. But most importantly, you look as fly as you always have and you’re surrounded by beautiful women. 

+ She’s an urban witch. A drugstore sorceress, mixing potions of Xanax and gasoline. Selling them on a street corner in the east village. No one knows her name, few know her face, But they say you’ll know her when you see her. You approach her on a chilled November night and offer a pack of cigarettes for a love potion. Hands shaking with anxiety and cold. She looks you in the eye and tells you you don’t need love potion. She’ll give you everything you want for free. 

+ You’re a nerd, a nobody, the kid who sits by herself at lunch. The kid who never talks and never gets noticed by anyone. Yet here you are, dressed in your big sisters clothes, standing in the coolest girl in schools living room while a party rages around you. Tonight you’re going to be cool. Tonight you’re going to be the life of the party. Tonight she’s finally going to realize you exist. This is either the bravest thing you’ve ever done or the stupidest.

+ You’ve been climbing the mountain for three days and three nights. Out of food, out of water, and utterly, painfully alone. Just when you think you can walk no farther, you hear a waterfall in the distance. With your remaining ounce of strength you launch yourself the final few yards. You collapse to your knees and peer into the clear, cool water. But Instead of seeing your face your entire life is reflected back at you.