the-frog-at-the-bog
omnisexual transmasc enby and questioning demiromantic they/hecall me moss if ya want I post art sometimes but am mostly just here to look at my scrukles :]
190 posts
Latest Posts by the-frog-at-the-bog
@snowiefur you like isopods
isopod<3
|| prints! ||
my interpretation of narrator at the end of the book
Lots of thoughts recently. Everything feels plastic.
I could go on and on about why all that AI "art" is bad. I could mention theft, lack of creativity, it's impact on the work field and environment, but countless people have already said all that. I wanted to touch on something that to me is the most utterly wrong about all of it.
Art is more than just something pretty to look at or listen to. It's therapeutic. It's a form of communication. A tool for human connection. It's a pure, human need.
Support real artists ☀️
ikea boy (lovingly)
Sleep all day, party all night <3
saw some debate over the english title translation of dungeon meshi and I am here to offer you this alternative
STAY SAFE!! [ID: the Gilbert Baker pride flag with the words “Happy pride to all those who are unable to celebrate openly and safely. You are loved and seen!” in all-caps black text over it. /end ID]
i suffer from 'men are hotter banged up' disease. unfortunately there is no cure.
Bloody and bruised >
genuinely cannot believe there are still homophobes on this website. why the hell are you on THIS website
honestly? i think more people should be disillusioned with pop culture at this point
can tyler and the narrator PLEAAASEE use some of that soap they’re making bc i just KNOW you can smell them from at least 2 CONTINENTS away
Dear professor this assignment did not nourish my fundamentally curious soul so i did not do it No penalty full 100 points please Goodbye!
I am once again thinking about digging holes
It's so fucked up that digging a bunch of holes works so well at reversing desertification
I hate that so much discourse into fighting climate change is talking about bioenginerring a special kind of seaweed that removes microplastics or whatever other venture-capital-viable startup idea when we have known for forever about shit like digging crescent shaped holes to catch rainwater and turning barren land hospitable
The key shortcut of "windows key" and "." held together has changed my life
like
emoji access? supremely powerful 🙂💖
But
Kaomoji ?
The year is 2013 and I am unstoppable ヾ(•ω•`)o o(*￣▽￣*)ブo(*°▽°*)o
i love when people intertwine religion and worship with soapship. like idk it’s just.
the idea of falling in love and almost worshipping something you created to help you deal with your own problems that’s just.
that’s beautiful and so sad to me. the complete blind faith, him not knowing or even understanding for the most part that tyler doesn’t exist.
and even though narrator is so in love with tyler, (in my brain), tyler could never really love him because he’s. not real. yet he imagines he loves him. imagine he knows him inside and out. yet narrator is willing to do what he says because of that approval he craves.
the one person narrator loved and thought loved him too wasn’t real dude. and he still did everything for him, followed him blindly
narrator is a metaphorical slave to something he created.
mm.
as much as i love writing about soapshipping and making tyler a real person, ill always love the idea of tyler still being like. not real? in fanfics.
idk i just think it’s beautiful and slightly melancholic and slightly sexy that narrator conjured up the man he wants to be and then fell in love with him because like. that person in his head is only his because no one knows that he exists as a person separate to him in his head? that’s just.
mm.
i have exams soon but all i can think about is thag quiet and slow affection tyler starts showing the narrator, very cautiously, as if revealing too much at once would cause the world to erupt under his feet, forever taking him into the depth of the universe.
will tyler ever know of a world where his feelings, whichever they might be, are not the calling of the devil? will he ever be made aware of a world where he does not need to associate his deepest most true feelings to everlasting and deserved violence?
and will the narrator ever learn to stop projecting these so-called impure and self-depricating thoughts onto an imaginary friend, making him bear the burden of feelings too heavy to carry?
tired ford please give me strength for groceries
The narrator has never seen Tyler show any form of affection towards anyone. His *thing* with Marla was pure lust diguised as misconstructed affection, something Tyler was particularly good at. But there was always something more to their relationship; a small hand movement, reaching for the Narrator in the hall when the latter passed to get out of the house. It took some time for this seed to grow into something; and it was quiet, always. Whatever Tyler did, as shocking or out of character as it might be, it was never to be mentioned in the moment nor anytime after it. It was like a dirty secret, hidden away in the darkest corners of a mind too complexed by violent emotions to fully grasp its concept.
It started out slow, the hand finally reaching the back of the Narrator's shirt as he's walking out the door.
"Tyler?" The Narrator had said, in slight confusion more than judgment. But it was too late, the damage was instantaneous and Tyler let go, turning around with a quiet " ...'thing", walking away from his friend back into the house. The further in he went the more painful his thoughts became, clawing at him like odors of ammonium or gas from a stove left open nearby.
Whatever was happening to him, it would be kept quiet.
After this instance, it took at least a month for something of a similar nature to occur again. It was after a rough night at Fight Club, a combination of exhaustion from the Narrator and a particularly wound up man, tall and muscular, ready to eat at the Narrator. After the fight, Tyler helped the Narrator walk home, serving as a cane to his slightly broken up friend.
Once they got home, the Narrator took his arm off, ready to nurse himself back to health on his own, as was custom between the two men. As he looked at Tyler walking up the stairs, he suddenly noticed a movement in Tyler's hand, a movement indicating "Come, follow me." Of course, he did just that.
Once up on the second floor, Tyler walked to their common bathroom, where all their medicine and treatments were somewhat neatly arranged together in the cabinet above the sink. Tyler closed the lid to the toilet, and signed to the Narrator to sit down on it. Taken aback by the strange actions of his once "show me pity and I will make you regret it" roomate, the Narrator simply followed orders like a lost puppy, positioning himself somewhat comfortably on the closed seat. After a short instant, Tyler came closer, holding bandages and disinfectant. The Narrator could barely believe his eyes.
"Tyler? What are y-"
"Sh." That was it. Nothing more, nothing less, just a short sound and a finger on the mouth. Then, there was an understanding between them: if this is to happen again, I want not a single word spoken.
So, in total silence, Tyler gently dabbed the Narrator's cuts and bruises, applying the right treatments and whatnot to every area in need of such. The Narrator watched, in awe, expecting to get thrice the treatment he got at Fight Club from Tyler. But once the ordeal was over, Tyler simply cleaned up, put everything back in its place, and that was done. The Narrator sat there for another fifteen minutes, pondering on the meaning of Tyler's actions, if there were any. Eventually he simply let go, understanding this was perhaps another of Mother Nature's great mysteries. He didn't see Tyler for the rest of the night, probably exhausted from that small showing of affection towards someone some would consider their closest friend. The Narrator went to sleep, accepting that maybe, Tyler just needed to make a right to undo a wrong he had done earlier, or just something to make it make sense. But it never really did in the end.
This instance is what really set the ball in motion, though very slowly. After that, it was shoulders touching on the bus where they previously had empty spaces, even a small accidental touch wouldve set off an alarm of shame onto every unknowing citizen within a 50 mile radius. The Narrator took it in, looking in slight disbelief the first time, but quickly accepting it, even embracing it after a few times. After that, another unspoken thing evidently, came the hands touching. When they'd sit next to each other, no matter the place, if the Narrator had his hand openly placed next to Tyler, the latter would arrange his hand to brush the Narrator's slightly, briefly, like the fleeting appearance of a shooting star in a moonless night sky. Since the Narrator never pulled away from these moments, Tyler slowly became more forward, purposefully placing his hand next the Narrator's, their skin now touching, burning, yearning. It never went further than that, at least not with the hands.
But sometimes, when there was nothing to do, and they were both too lonely to read medical magazines separated in their rooms, they'd sit on the desolate amalgamation of pillows and duvets they affectionately called a couch downstairs, turn on the tv, and simply place their bodies in close proximity, their skin and clothes comfortably against the other's. The Narrator was used to this by now, and simply appreciated what little acknowledgement Tyler had regarding him. These moments were like drops of heaven to two repressed and touch-starved men, both too wind up on old-school ideas of what is right or wrong, what is deserving of pain and suffering and what is pure and innocent.
They had both immensly suffered from the association of simple feelings to hatred and loathing, burying everything far beneath the earth, where no mortal man would ever be capable of digging them up, sentencing them to a lifetime of suffering at the hands of people with clouded judgments.
This was their redemption.
i know my ass is up too late because i’m losing my fucking mind over accidentally typing george of the gungle
Like or reblog if you're one of the people on Tumblr who would be cool with Foggy Nelson & Matt Murdock being a couple. 🥑💚🙏
(Dear Disney and Marvel, Kevin Feige, Matt Corman, and Chris Ord,
There's more where that came from. This is just one site.)
the usa is leaving me to die slowly and painfully because i am poor please god rb this dont just like and scroll
i'm on a medication that is barely helping and i'm still having seizures almost every other day. finally had a grand mal the other day and i'm still hurting from it.
i don't have health insurance but i have to see a neurologist otherwise my condition is going to continue to deteriorate until it kills me if nothing is done
please. please it's alot but if 500 people send 10 bucks that meets our goal. anything at all helps. im begging for my life here it has to happen. i'm scared of going to sleep & i can barely do anything anymore even if i want to this is a fucking shitty way to go im only 24
