I Love The Little Claw Looking Things. I Never Thought Something Like That Would Be On A Microorganism

I got ghost dolphin.

pokèmonize yourself!!!!

spin this wheel to see your pokemon type

spin this one to see how you'll look like

Someone mentioned what if they used giggle sticks and I can only imagine the noise (and panic) that would come with hearing the other runner coming up behind you. 🤣

Random person: Please boop me! I'm so close! 😭

Me: Understood. O7 *Spam boops to help person to get to their goal*

Sparking Chemistry Between Characters #1

⇢ Emotional Timing ( When One Opens Up and the Other Isn’t Ready, Yet)

There’s something so devastatingly real about when characters miss each other, not physically, but emotionally. One’s finally ready to be honest, to be seen… and the other? Still hiding. Still pretending. That emotional dissonance creates a whole different kind of electricity: one rooted in vulnerability, silence, and the ache of almost.

“I trust you,” she said, voice low, eyes steady. He looked at her, and for a second, he almost said it back. But then his smile cracked, soft and sad, and he looked away like the words were burning holes in his throat.

This isn’t the moment they fall into each other’s arms. This is the moment they could have. And those moments still haunt.

Use this when:

You want slow burn that hurts a little

Your characters are stubborn, scared, or emotionally constipated (bless them)

The closeness builds from not-quite-connecting, until one of them finally breaks

⇢  Silent Support ( When They Don’t Say It, But They Show It)

Sometimes the most romantic thing a character can do is just… be there. No speeches. No dramatic gestures. Just showing up, quiet, consistent, unwavering. The kind of person who notices when your laugh sounds tired.

He didn’t say anything when he found her curled up on the kitchen floor. He just sat next to her, their shoulders barely touching, and slid his hoodie off without a word. A minute later, she was wearing it. Five minutes later, she was breathing again.

This isn’t about grand declarations. It’s about the kind of love that doesn’t demand to be acknowledged. The kind that waits. That steadies. That speaks fluent silence.

Use this when:

You want to show love without “I love you”

You’re building intimacy through actions, not words

Your characters aren’t the touchy-feely, talk-it-out types

⇢ Emotional Whiplash (When Conflict Turns Intimate Too Fast)

This is the classic “We were fighting five seconds ago and now I want to kiss you” moment. Because nothing stirs up feelings like frustration mixed with closeness. When characters clash, especially if there’s emotional history or denial involved, it creates heat. They’re already fired up. Already in each other’s space. Now throw in a little vulnerability and BAM, you’ve got magnetic chaos.

“Why do you care what I do?” she snapped, stepping closer. “Because I...” He bit the word back, jaw tight. His fists clenched at his sides. She stared, breath caught in her throat. “Because I do,” he said finally, quieter this time. “More than I should.”

Enemies to lovers. Friends to what even are we. That line-blurring, heart-pounding tension where the air is thick and the truth almost slips out, that’s where this trope lives (I Love It).

Use this when:

You want chaos, angst, and chemistry all at once

Your characters are in denial and one good argument away from kissing

You want something to break open and then immediately regret it

boop

Original post x

And now, I must sleep...

When I was 3 years old I went to a preschool that had this little green crocheted crocodile finger puppet that was my absolute favorite toy to play with of all time. I named her Chelsea, because Chelsea starts with C and crocodile starts with C and more often than not wild animals in fiction aimed at kids have names that start with the same first letter as their species. I played with Chelsea every day, because she was my favorite toy, and because the other kids weren't really interested in her, and also because I eventually started to hide her in a special secret spot in the room so no one else would find her before I did. She was so beloved by me that when I graduated from preschool, my teachers gave Chelsea to me permanently, because it was clear no one else would ever love that little crochet crocodile as much as me anyway (in part because I hid her). They waited a few weeks after I graduated before doing it, too, and sent Chelsea with some post cards as if the crocodile had been on a whirlwind "travel the world" vacation before deciding to come live with me.

And Chelsea remained my favorite toy all through my childhood. There were others I loved nearly as much, like my Imperial Godzilla and the big red T.rex from the first Jurassic Park toy line and my tiny knockoff plush Charmander, but Chelsea always held the place of honor in my heart. She was my absolute favorite toy.

I kept a lot of my favorite toys through adolescence, even if social pressure eventually got me to give away a lot of them (and some, y'know, broke). That's obviously not surprising to you if you've followed my blog, since I still collect toys into my adulthood. But it's important to note because while I know I made a conscious effort to never throw out Chelsea every time I pared down my collection... at some point, she went missing.

I became aware of it when I graduated from high school. I was feeling really emotional about leaving that stage of my life and, y'know, becoming an adult and shit, and in that state I decided to find Chelsea to reassure myself that I hadn't entirely left childhood behind. But Chelsea wasn't there. No matter how hard I looked, I could not find Chelsea anyway.

And that was, like, devastating, because the only explanation was that somehow, at some point, I had accidentally tossed her out with some other "childhood junk" while trying to grow up and be responsible in my teen years. I had literally thrown away my childhood in a careless attempt to be more grown up.

Of course I knew she was just a toy - nothing more than some yarn twisted together in the loose shape of a crocodile, lifeless and soul-less and more or less worthless in the objective light of day. But she was also Chelsea, my best friend since i was three, my stalwart little pal, a source of comfort for most of my life at that point, and I had just... tossed her out! Like garbage! What kind of person was I becoming if I could do that to my best friend?

I was very visibly distraught, and my mom noticed. Being very crafty, she tried to find the pattern for Chelsea so she could knit me a new one. The problem is, she had no idea where to find said pattern. She checked all her books of crochet patterns, and when that failed she tried the internet, but no matter how hard she looked, she found nothing.

So my mom found the next best thing.

The original Chelsea was a tiny finger puppet, and I had "met" her when I was three. Well, I was eighteen now - shouldn't Chelsea have grown too? And as has been established, this crocodile was fond of whirlwind vacations. My mom found a pattern that looked as much like Chelsea as possible while also being a much bigger crocodile, and gifted her to me before I left for college - to show that while we can't stop the flow of time or how it changes us, that doesn't mean we have to leave it behind.

And yeah, I decided to believe it. That's Chelsea now. Yeah, I know that in reality it's a completely different set of yarn made by my mom rather than... whoever it was that crocheted the original Chelsea, but then, Chelsea was never really the yarn. She was the feelings I put into the yarn, you know? So that's Chelsea, all grown up, and still my most prized toy.

...

Flash forward... Jesus, eighteen years, holy shit. A few weeks ago I saw a post trying to identify a different crochet crocodile pattern, and thinking it was cute, I decided to try and look for it on ebay and etsy, just to see if maybe I could find it. I didn't, but do you know what I found instead?

A very familiar crochet crocodile finger puppet. An intensely familiar one, you might say. Of course I bought it. And of course I asked the seller if, perhaps, they might have the pattern for it or know where it came from (they did not, alas). And after a few days, she showed up at my house.

She's not Chelsea, obviously. For one thing, she's far too clean and fresh looking - Chelsea was very well loved, and looked the part, while this crocodile finger puppet has definitely not endured years upon years of a child's affection. And, more importantly, she's not Chelsea because we've already established that Chelsea grew up into a bigger crochet crocodile. This has to be Chelsea's younger sister, Cici.

And if I could find another of Chelsea's kind after all these years, then maybe, with a bit of luck, I might find the pattern for her, and be able to make more of them. Fill the world with Chelseas.

Truly I hate to do this to you all but; you can watch all the videos and read all the blogs in the world but you cannot learn to sew without at some point picking up a piece of fabric and fucking it up. No tutorial exists that will stop you at some point ruining this poor piece of cloth. The visceral act of holding a project and wondering where you went wrong is the only way to learn sewing; you cannot escape it. I’m sorry