Ribbon dancing I was not aware of your evolution 🤯
Okay this makes sense now actually. Kristen should have been able to fly, I think Brennan wasn't being realistic or was just unaware.
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Not today Justin

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@julia-duna
Ribbon dancing I was not aware of your evolution 🤯
Okay this makes sense now actually. Kristen should have been able to fly, I think Brennan wasn't being realistic or was just unaware.

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Wait, so you’re telling me today’s the 4th? What’s next, the 5th? The minor fall? The major lift?
the simpsons + my favorite lgbt+ moments
there's a special kind of ableism (perhaps mixed with ageism) that comes from people who are older adults, who lived an largely abled life, who get like. personally offended by the idea that you, a young person, could DARE to also have a shitty body. like they view bad knees and fatigue as a badge of honor you get from living a long life & young disabled people don't deserve it? because we haven't suffered enough to... suffer? it's fucking bonkers. like yes ma'am I also make old person noises when getting up. i don't know why you feel like I'm taking something from you by being young and crippled.
also like. its such an interesting experience to start dealing with chronic pain when you're like. 12. and thinking it was normal and being told its probably your fault for being lazy and being basically tortured every day in gym class. and having to deal with the emotional pain of realizing that everyone else your age isn't in pain and tired all the time and the reason everyone glorifies their teens and 20s is because they feel good in comparison to when they get older. and the pain of realizing you'll never have that youth and having to be in high school grieving over all that loss and thinking about how the last time you were able to enjoy exercise without complication was when you were in elementary school.
and then having some fuck who spent DECADES with a perfectly functioning body get snooty with you because they feel like they fucking own the experience of being in pain all the time. "you're too young to be in pain-" yeah you don't think i fucking know that more than you do?
i wrote this in the tags but someone in the notes reminded me of this story, so I wanna add it to the main post, as an example of what it can look like when older disabled people don't engage in this sort of adult-supremacist-flavored ableism:
When I was in high school, I was once waiting outside of a grocery store for my friend. My cane at this point had a fun moon-and-star/astrological aesthetic design. And, for no real reason, this older Black man came up to me and asked me where I got it, because he thought it was great. I told him it was just something I got offline. He showed me his cane, which was this beautiful hand-carved wooden staff (I can't remember exactly what it looked like, but it was stunning) and he told me about how he got it custom made from a woodcarver in Africa. I never got his name or saw him again, but he lit up my afternoon.
It was a really touching moment for me. He saw a high schooler with a cane and his first thought wasn't that it must be a fashion statement or that I must be lazy or attention-seeking or that it was generally something strange that needed explanation. During this same timeframe I'd also had adults who I'd never met before who would approach me (again, a child) to, essentially, demand I explain to them my personal health issues for their curiosity and entertainment. So it really meant something to me that this man saw me and thought, "What a delightful cane! I also appreciate a delightful cane! I'm gonna ask that kid where they got theirs and show them mine!" without ever needing to make me justify why I as a young person was using a mobility aid.
Carved Wooden Cane Man, wherever you are now, thank you.
unauthorized fucking thing!!!!!!
(warning: loud chirping throughout)
source: hellgate osprey cam

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I am a GUEST and I do not DESERVE to use the good normal cups, I may only use the worst cup you have
Counterpoint, I am a guest and I DESIRE to use the WORST possible cup I can find that you have hidden away
My mother keeps the nicest drinking glasses in the cupboards that have the glass front panels, so that they’re easy for guests to see, and it ends up hilarious because it looks like such a Display Case for Fancy Stuff type setup that without fail, everyone she knows well enough to have visit her will go straight past the pretty drinking glasses so as not to mess them up and open the next cupboard which contains ugly mugs and weird spares and end up drinking out of like, faded Winnie the Pooh sippie cups, or the ancient soup mug that’s shaped like a rooster.
I am a GUEST and I do not DESERVE to use the good normal cups, I may only use the worst cup you have
Counterpoint, I am a guest and I DESIRE to use the WORST possible cup I can find that you have hidden away
My mother keeps the nicest drinking glasses in the cupboards that have the glass front panels, so that they’re easy for guests to see, and it ends up hilarious because it looks like such a Display Case for Fancy Stuff type setup that without fail, everyone she knows well enough to have visit her will go straight past the pretty drinking glasses so as not to mess them up and open the next cupboard which contains ugly mugs and weird spares and end up drinking out of like, faded Winnie the Pooh sippie cups, or the ancient soup mug that’s shaped like a rooster.
idk at the end if the day maybe I really am just a curmudgeon but you simply will never convince me that mayor, senator, governor, or president are entry level jobs that can be done well with zero government or policy experience and the tremendous arrogance it takes to think they can should be disqualifying in and of itself.
I don’t disagree with you, particularly about the pay (public service is a highly skilled job and the pay should reflect that!) but I also think people underestimate how many opportunities for experience exist. I was reading this morning that in my state (Mass), 59% of state house and senate races this year are uncontested. I can’t tell you how many times I go to vote and every race lower than president, governor, or senate is uncontested or worse, will tell me to pick three from a list of two. Library, school, town, and city boards and committees are begging people to show up and participate, and most of the time it’s the same tiny group of people over and over again and then everyone wonders why nothing ever changes.
Me and mom learned new English word.
Wow…This is probably the most famous posts on my Tumblr lol.
This is what I drew after this situation 👇
Me and mom learned new English word.
Wow…This is probably the most famous posts on my Tumblr lol.
This is what I drew after this situation 👇

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I told a guy his total was 13.21 and he said “wish it were that year, could actually get some good music on the radio”
breaking news from the AP, our boys on the front have just sacked constantinople. take that, heretics. coming up next are the soothing lute dirges of bing crosby
*screams of a witch burning at the stake*
THOU ART CURRENTLY LISTENING TO
*Gregorian chanting*
13.21
*leper bell ringing*
HIGH MEDIAEVAL FM
*recording of John Lackland sobbing as he signs the Magna Carta*
WHENCE COMETH NAUGHT BUT LITURGIES
LITURGIES
AND MORE LITURGIES
*Templar knights praying out loud*
THIS ISN’T THY GRANDMOTHERES STATION
*Imagine Dragons - Radioactive starts playing*
field trip cancelled
Based off hit tumblr post:
thought of this immediately and was delighted to discover it’s the same op
Heather Parry's essay on the new Emerald Fennell adaptation of Wuthering Heights is worded a bit more cynically than I personally feel on the topic, but it's still one of the best reviews for the film. (Spoiler: it's not positive). My favorite part is when Parry pivots at the end to talk about the online discourse that happened surrounding the original novel in recent months, specifically conversations re: Heathcliff's race and whether or not WH should be considered a romance.
The good thing to come out of this adaptation and its notoriety is, of course, that everyone is re-reading the novel. Both the actual work and the conversation around it have been more (sociologically) interesting than all the film chatter. What’s surprised me in the book-revival discourse is the obsession around getting definitive answers to two things: whether or not Heathcliff was a person of colour, and whether or not the book is a ‘love story’. I think the former question is partially due to us imposing a modern (US-centric) understanding of race and class on the past; we tend to see these things less as shifting social concepts that are highly context-dependent and more as immovable parts of our identity, which is why, for instance, people are so confident in calling multi-millionaires ‘working class’, centring their background rather than their current material circumstances, and why we find it so difficult to understand that people considered POC in some (white-majority) countries might be considered ‘white’ in others, and vice versa. The insistence on Heathcliff as having one certain racial identity is, I think, born of an inability to engage with how the concept of ‘whiteness’ has changed over the last few hundred years, and how literature from that period might be playing with this complexity (and the paranoia it engendered). On the question of whether or not this is a ‘love story’, I suspect this is mostly a misunderstanding of the gothic as a subcategory of Romanticism (a particular literary genre that does not equate to ‘love story’), as well as an inability to imagine novels as multifaceted, thanks to a culture that increasingly reduces literature to single, simple marketing terms and their most social-media-friendly tropes.
The overall issue, though, seems to be a refusal of this book’s ambiguity, which really is a refusal of what the gothic genre is: that is, ambiguous. You are not meant to know the provenance of Heathcliff, because you are not meant to know where you, the reader, or the characters in the book should place him on a class basis, relative to other characters and the social norms of the time. The fact that he is from the streets of Liverpool—at the time a thriving hub for the slave trade, but also a place full of Irish immigrants—is enough for the characters to fear that he has some mixed heritage, and it is that fear that comes across in their descriptions of him, which make reference to multiple distinct racial groups (truly a grab-bag of Orientalism, though, tellingly, the narrative voice never describes Heathcliff in these terms). His arrival amongst the Earnshaws also occurs in the midst of the enclosures, during which there was a new establishment of class centred around who owned land and who had a right to be there, imposed through extreme violence and maintained through both physical boundaries (which did not previously exist) and an aggressive othering; it is not an accident that Heathcliff is referred to as both ‘gypsy’ and ‘lascar’, terms not referring to distinct ethnic communities but to groups defined by crossing borders. His actual racial heritage is much less important than the fact that he is audaciously transgressing these new boundaries, and cannot be subdued by the violence with which these borders are usually policed.
[...] The need to be superior, to have another person below you, destroys all the characters in this book. Its refusal to clarify questions of heritage and provenance are key to its real meaning, and by imposing essentialism where there is none, you miss the point completely. You are being invited to question everything made ambiguous here, and in questioning, to think more critically, more deeply about how these things translate to you, now, and the system you inhabit: what is it that makes some people powerful, and other people powerless? And what does this system do to all of us? That is what makes the book timeless.
Heather Parry's essay on the new Emerald Fennell adaptation of Wuthering Heights is worded a bit more cynically than I personally feel on the topic, but it's still one of the best reviews for the film. (Spoiler: it's not positive). My favorite part is when Parry pivots at the end to talk about the online discourse that happened surrounding the original novel in recent months, specifically conversations re: Heathcliff's race and whether or not WH should be considered a romance.
The good thing to come out of this adaptation and its notoriety is, of course, that everyone is re-reading the novel. Both the actual work and the conversation around it have been more (sociologically) interesting than all the film chatter. What’s surprised me in the book-revival discourse is the obsession around getting definitive answers to two things: whether or not Heathcliff was a person of colour, and whether or not the book is a ‘love story’. I think the former question is partially due to us imposing a modern (US-centric) understanding of race and class on the past; we tend to see these things less as shifting social concepts that are highly context-dependent and more as immovable parts of our identity, which is why, for instance, people are so confident in calling multi-millionaires ‘working class’, centring their background rather than their current material circumstances, and why we find it so difficult to understand that people considered POC in some (white-majority) countries might be considered ‘white’ in others, and vice versa. The insistence on Heathcliff as having one certain racial identity is, I think, born of an inability to engage with how the concept of ‘whiteness’ has changed over the last few hundred years, and how literature from that period might be playing with this complexity (and the paranoia it engendered). On the question of whether or not this is a ‘love story’, I suspect this is mostly a misunderstanding of the gothic as a subcategory of Romanticism (a particular literary genre that does not equate to ‘love story’), as well as an inability to imagine novels as multifaceted, thanks to a culture that increasingly reduces literature to single, simple marketing terms and their most social-media-friendly tropes.
The overall issue, though, seems to be a refusal of this book’s ambiguity, which really is a refusal of what the gothic genre is: that is, ambiguous. You are not meant to know the provenance of Heathcliff, because you are not meant to know where you, the reader, or the characters in the book should place him on a class basis, relative to other characters and the social norms of the time. The fact that he is from the streets of Liverpool—at the time a thriving hub for the slave trade, but also a place full of Irish immigrants—is enough for the characters to fear that he has some mixed heritage, and it is that fear that comes across in their descriptions of him, which make reference to multiple distinct racial groups (truly a grab-bag of Orientalism, though, tellingly, the narrative voice never describes Heathcliff in these terms). His arrival amongst the Earnshaws also occurs in the midst of the enclosures, during which there was a new establishment of class centred around who owned land and who had a right to be there, imposed through extreme violence and maintained through both physical boundaries (which did not previously exist) and an aggressive othering; it is not an accident that Heathcliff is referred to as both ‘gypsy’ and ‘lascar’, terms not referring to distinct ethnic communities but to groups defined by crossing borders. His actual racial heritage is much less important than the fact that he is audaciously transgressing these new boundaries, and cannot be subdued by the violence with which these borders are usually policed.
[...] The need to be superior, to have another person below you, destroys all the characters in this book. Its refusal to clarify questions of heritage and provenance are key to its real meaning, and by imposing essentialism where there is none, you miss the point completely. You are being invited to question everything made ambiguous here, and in questioning, to think more critically, more deeply about how these things translate to you, now, and the system you inhabit: what is it that makes some people powerful, and other people powerless? And what does this system do to all of us? That is what makes the book timeless.

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It’s now been six months since I read Wuthering Heights and I still think about this moment every single day. The anguish, the guilt, the spite, the violence. God they’ve destroyed eachother. It’s terrible. It’s in this moment the real tragedy of the story is laid bare; in another life, another time, a place where they both weren’t horrifically abused and crushed by the expectations and systems of their society, they would have been together.
And the way they change within this scene, the way they go through so many different thoughts and feelings. The anger, the regret, the obsession.
I mean like OH MY GOD
“I love my murderer — but yours! How can I?”
FUCK. Akandhwkajhrhe FUCKKKK
Anyways I’m normal about it I swear. Also I haven’t seen the new movie and probably won’t lol
Viking dresses by Savelyeva Ekaterina
Another visual demonstration that historical clothing wasn’t dingy and monochrome.
All of these colours can be obtained from vegetable dyes, producing different shades depending on what mordant (colour fixative - alum, different metal filings, different vinegars) was used. See here and here for examples.
BRING THIS FASHION BACK.
Not clothes, but this was a palette developed by the National Museum of Denmark based on paint residue from archaeological finds for the purpose of painting a reconstructed hall.
Apparently, they can tell from the chemical composition that the colours wouldn’t be mixed with black or white to mute them, but be used in their brightest form. Bright yellow and red was achieved with expensive dyes (orpiment and cinnabar) and was thus fashionable. (Source in Danish)
@athingofvikings
What is a man? An ecstatic little pile of pigments.
^reblogging for that comment
Forever reminder that the ancient world was colorful everywhere, and every attempt to brownwash it in modern fiction is sheer laziness.