It’s March 31st, so I figured it was time for the yearly promise:

I will not post any pranking OPs. All April-Fools-related reblogs will be clearly marked as such (using the tag “April Fools”).


#oh look an original post #April Fools #stay safe out there folks


I’m the kind of person that will delete and retype an entire tag sentence if I make a typo and that’s really all you need to know about my personality


#same #sometimes #if I’m writing a particularly long or tricky tag ramble #I compose the tag-sequence draft in a notepad and then copy it in #so I can edit it more easily while I’m writing #this also probably says a lot about me


For several years, the Tumblr help docs have mirrored the Tumblr experience: clean and simple. And that was fine. But as we’ve added features and choices and compatibility and complexity, the whole Tumblr experience has gotten richer and it feels like our documentation should reflect that too.

Introducing the new Tumblr help center. At, you’ll find

  • Better, more thorough search results
  • An improved, much-more-Tumblry look and feel
  • An announcements section at the top of the page for recent changes and news
  • All the same helpful content you know and love

Thanks for using the site and for giving us something to write help center articles about, Tumblr. 💗


#Tumblr: a User’s Guide #The Great Tumblr Apocalypse




I hate that I laughed at this



“Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there,” and another one appears. And dodges the downward sweep of claws, darting to the side, bouncing off the pentagram’s barriers, and tripping over the demon’s tail. “In the Vatican!” she cries out as she moves, using the State Farm Agent summoning charm to modify the situation as she was taught, and mentally thanking her trainer for expecting her to be fast enough to do it on the first incantation.

Most State Farm agents, when they run into trouble, have to get the customer to do the jingle a second time. That guy with the buffalo was lucky.

The magic takes hold, and she materializes in the aisle of St. Peter’s Basilica, still holding the demon by the tail, in the middle of Sunday morning Mass. The music clatters unprofessionally to a halt as laypeople, deacons, priests, monks, nuns, and the Pope all turn their attention to the surprised demon whose fifth course of dinner has turned, unaccountably, into a visit to one of his least favorite places on Earth.

There is chanting in Latin, and vaguely cross-shaped gestures, and clouds of incense, and the demon vanishes in a puff of smoke, whether from the efforts of the clergy or of his own volition no one can say. The Agent doesn’t wait, fleeing towards the doors and escaping in the confusion.

She gains the exit and walks, purposefully, toward Rome proper; there, she ducks into the nearest alley. A burner cell phone comes out of one of the less-used pockets of her purse, and she dials a number from memory.

“Allstate,” says a smooth masculine voice after three rings.

“State Farm,” she answers. “I’m calling in a favor.”

“Yeah?” Interest. “What sort?”

As she talks she’s pulling out her smartphone, keying an app that was activated by the summoning, and pulling up the policyholder data that enabled the incantation to work.

“Insurance fraud,” she said, and can almost hear teeth sharpening on the other end of the line. She gives him the name, the address, the policy number. “Someone needs some mayhem.”

“That’s my name,” the man says.

She smiles. “Someone needs all the mayhem.”

He chuckles. Slow. Evil. Even with the echoes of demonic laughter ringing in her ears, she’s impressed. “Don’t worry,” he says, almost purring.

“You’re in good hands.”



OH MY FUCKING GOD I just read insurance commercial fan fiction and it was so good, bless you, I’m going to remember this day forever.






Part 2:

It’s not too long later—State Farm will occasionally loan out their teleportation trick, though Heaven help anyone who tries to use it to compete with them—and the man they call Mayhem is squatting next to a demonic circle with tacky half-dried blood under the leather soles of his shoes. Whoever dispelled the circle didn’t do a good job of it; the ring is still faintly smoldering and Mayhem has already singed his fingers on the air above it. He’s in the basement of a house with a State Farm homeowner’s policy, waiting for his partner in, erm, crime, to show up.

“Oh, good heavens.” He smiles at the sound of someone hopping delicately back, then carefully tiptoeing through the mess. Demons are messy eaters, and Flo’s wearing all white.

She steps gingerly over what might be most of a femur, looks from circle to Mayhem to—is that half a skull on the floor? “Freaky. Whaddaya need?”

“Tech,” he says. “State Farm knows the homeowner summoned them, but the Agent reported at least five people present. Maybe six. She isn’t sure, what with being busy evading a demon inside a very small space with zappy walls.”

Flo’s already got a—where does she get those from anyway? a cardboard box in her hands. Mayhem watches as she unfolds it, refolds it, and ends up with something significantly bigger, shaped like a satellite dish. He tries to watch how she does it; they may be working together, but they’re still rivals and his own higher-ups will be very interested in the latest whatever-it-does that Progressive has come up with.

A blue glow lights up the concave side. Mayhem is pretty sure cardboard doesn’t work that way. Flo makes a pleased sound, and starts rattling off names, addresses, policy numbers.

Impressed, Mayhem asks, “How the fuck?” If Progressive is developing some sort of superspy technology, well, that’s kind of ominous.

Flo grins and looks embarrassed. “I, ah, have occasional dealings with a couple guys from That Other Insurance Company. One of them knows someone who knows someone who works in quality control for the Infernal Realms, and it turns out Hell monitors all their summoned manifestations for safety purposes. His contact got me the list of who was there.”

Mayhem nods. He’s had occasional encounters That Other Insurance Company himself. Bland, grey-suited, timid men who are even worse spies than they are insurance agents. “Wait, Hell has a quality control department?”

“And all other forms of administration,” Flo says. “I understand it’s to generate maximum paperwork. It is a place of punishment, after all.”

Mayhem actually winces. “That’s definitely hellish. All right. The Agent who called me in is flying back from Italy and should meet us in a few hours. Should give us plenty of time to plan an attack. Are they all State Farm customers?”

“Just the one,” Flo replies, folding her toy up, and Mayhem watches with vague envy as it becomes a giant sword. “One Allstate, one Progressive, one Geico, two Farmers. We gonna invite anyone else to the party?” She hopes so. Mayhem’s precision strikes on any sort of insurance fraud perpetrators are the stuff of legend, and the Farmers guys would bring in enough absurdity to make it a work of art.

Mayhem’s grin is something that ought to haunt her nightmares. Instead, she finds herself matching it. “Yes,” he says. “Let’s.”






#fanfic #my past self has good taste #hell cw



Ash Soto was ashamed of her skin condition until she turned it into art. Diagnosed with vitiligo at age 12, she was often bullied and was once asked if she ‘showered in bleach.’ One day, she traced around her vitiligo with a black marker and realized it looked beautiful, like a world map, so she continues to create body art in hopes of inspiring others to love their bodies. Source Source 2

okay this is rad but also consider: fantasy world with this as the map. the world is set on a planet-sized human being. international politics revolving around convincing the Earth Goddess to transport armies with her hands. hands being covered in cities built from the proceeds of war profiteering. are clothes involved? does the sky sometimes just get covered in fabric? how weird would it be to be the village shaman going on a pilgrimage to the Ear Temple to convince the Goddess to get naked or at least wear a lighter shirt because their crops are dying from insufficient light? oh shit, is there blood magic, which involves digging deep mines down to fast-moving underground rivers? taboo, because you might get something fucked up into the bloodstream and poison the Goddess? god damn there’s a lot of directions to go with this


#story ideas I will never write #art #vitiligo #(with marker on it looks like maps tattooed onto baseline-white skin) #(though in general my brain parses vitiligo as ”dark patches on light background”) #(even knowing intellectually that it’s really ”light patches on dark background”) #(vitiligo-white is my baseline skin tone so it feels normal to me)


You are one of the greatest authorities on the Fall in the solar system. Alas, no-one listens to your expertise because of your insistence on calling it “The Clash of the TITANS”


#Eclipse Phase #I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog



(h/t @maddeningscientist and @lowgravitaswarningsignal)

Okay, so there’s the obvious question about how I’m going to use iTunes to make a nuclear bomb.  Sure.

But my second question is, under what circumstances can I make an iTunes-powered nuclear bomb and still be afraid of Apple’s lawyers?  What have they got at that fancy new Apple Campus?


#nuclear war mention #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog