
PR's Tumblrdome
art blog(derogatory)

çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation

Love Begins

Kiana Khansmith
Xuebing Du
wallacepolsom
sheepfilms
Keni

trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium
DEAR READER

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
Stranger Things
$LAYYYTER

tannertan36
taylor price

seen from Malaysia

seen from Greece
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Poland

seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from France
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Peru

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
@morgaine2005

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
When I was a child, I was often left in the care of my Nanna. It is from her that I learnt many of the pieces of what she would call "little magic".
At her side, I learned how to sew and make little finger puppets and 'dollies'. We walked through the park, and she pointed out the plants and trees and their properties. With her, I made my first lavender filled bag to help me sleep. She would spoil me with peanut butter and butter sandwiches (which my mother was staunchly against), and then showed me how to feed the house spirit (a bowl filled with crusts of bread and milk poured over the top with a bit of honey drizzled over it).
She also told me stories - so many fairytales and folktales that would horrify parents if told to their children nowadays. But it was only when I was older and in school that I realised the stories she told me were different from the ones my friends had been told... mine were darker and full of old truths and lessons I still remember to this day.
-
One of my favourite tales was of a little girl with honey blond hair and blue eyes whose name started with a V (I can't for the life of me remember her name). Her father was a merchant, and her mother was kind. Their little family of three were quite happy until the little girl's mother got sick. The merchant hired healers and priests to help his wife, but all failed to help the little girl's mother, her sickness worsening with each passing day. Soon, it was clear that her mother was dying, and the little girl's father refused to leave his wife's bedside, leaving the little girl to fetch water from the well, light the fires, cook meals for her family and care for the home.
One day, her mother called the little girl to her bedside and asked her husband to step outside of the room for a moment. The little girl approached her mother's bedside with trepedation. Reaching under the bed, the mother pulled out a strange little cloth doll with no face. The doll was made from a scrap of her mother's favourite dress, with her mother's hair ribbons binding it into the shape of a doll.
"Here, my child. She will protect you when I am gone. All you must do is feed the doll a drop of your blood and tell it your problem, and it will be fixed."
The little girl did not understand but took the doll from her mother. "But how will I feed her a drop of my blood if she has no mouth?"
The little girl's mother smiled, and for a moment, she didn't look sick anymore.
"Promise me, my beautiful daughter, that you will keep her with you, for she will act in my stead once I am gone."
The little girl did not understand her mother's words but promised again to keep the doll with her at all times.
The mother suddenly surged forward and tightly clasped her daughterâs hands in her own. "No one can know you have her, not even your father. Let no one see her. Keep her hidden on your person at all times unless you have need of her."
The little girl, now afraid at her mother's vehement pleas, nodded frantically to show she acquiesced and would do as she was bid.
Her mother, seeing the little girl's compliance, collapsed back into her bed and dismissed the little girl, bidding she tell her father he could return.
Her mother died that night; her father distraught at the loss of his beloved wife.
Though it was not long after the little girl's mother was buried, that her father remarried once more.
The little girl's new mother was a widow with no children of her own, and the little girl's father told her "She will make a good mother for you, my child" But she was not a good mother.
For you see, any time the little girl's father was home, the woman would treat the little girl kindly, but as soon as her father was gone, her stepmother would turn cruel and demand the little girl do all of the housework and chores. If little girl refused, her stepmother threatened to beat her, and told the little girl she would go to bed without supper if the work was not done. Since her father was away, and there was nothing the little girl could do, she did as she was bid; completing the work until her hands were cracked and bleeding with sores. However, despite the little girl's efforts, her stepmother was still unsatisfied with the little girl's work, locking her outside the house overnight.
Cold and exhausted, the little girl crept into the storeroom and laid down on the floor.
It was then that the little girl remembered her promise and the little doll she had kept secret in a pocket inside her dress. Carefully, pulling out the strange little doll, the little girl remembered her mother's words.
"Though you have no face, I will feed you a drop of my blood." And so the little girl dabbed one of her bleeding fingers against where the dolls mouth would be if it had one. "Please help me, little doll, for my stepmother is a cruel woman, and I can not possibly do all that she has bid of me."
It was then the little girl heard a voice inside her head, "Sleep, my child, and I will complete all that has been asked of you."
With a small smile of relief, the little girl went to sleep, and when she awoke, it was to find all of the chores her stepmother had requested, completed.
Surely, with all of the work done, her stepmother would let the little girl inside. So she tucked the doll back into the inner pocket of her dress and left the storeroom. But upon seeing the jobs miraculously done overnight, the stepmother's face turned ugly.
"I suppose since you've done all that was asked, you can come inside to break your fast."
The little girl meekly entered the home and ate the cold porridge she was given without comment. But as soon as she was done eating, her stepmother gave her another list of jobs to do, even more than the day before.
And so the little girl worked all day until her feet were sore and her hands were cracked and bleeding. But her stepmother remained unsatisfied, as all of the chores were not completed. Resigned, the little girl crept back into the storeroom for the night.
With bloodied hands, the little girl pulled out the doll from her hiding place and dabbed a drop of her blood where the doll's mouth would be.
"Please, little doll, I need your help once more. I can not do all that is asked of me, and my hands are blistered and sore."
Again, the little girl heard the doll's voice inside her head, "Sleep little one and all will be well, I will show you where the healing herbs dwell."
With a smile, the little girl went to sleep on the storeroom floor, and when she awoke, she found that once again, all of the jobs her stepmother had told her to complete were done.
Again, when the little girl went up to the house and knocked on the door, her stepmother seemed furious the jobs were done. With gritted teeth, she bid, "I suppose since you've done all that was asked, you can come inside to break your fast."
And so the little girl ate the cold porridge placed afore her as her stepmother once more listed more outlandish jobs for the young girl to complete.
And so the years went by, the little girl growing into a beautiful and capable young woman. Her hands and body were strong from all of the work she would complete each day, and thanks to her mother's blessing, she knew and harvested all manner of healing herbs and edible plants from the nearby forest.
But every time her father was home from his business trips, he would always comment "You are becoming so beautiful my darling daughter, just like your mother" These comments would make her stepmother scowl and her face turn ugly with rage. So, as each year passed, V became more beautiful, and her stepmother became more hideous in her hatred.
In her hatred, V's stepmother began sending her into the forest for ridiculous errands. V knew that her stepmother probably intended for her to get eaten by wolves, or worse, by the witch that supposedly lived in the wood. But thanks to her mother's blessing and a sharp thorn kept in the pocket of her dress, V was always able to fetch whatever her stepmother requested from the wood and return home safely.
One night, V's stepmother came to the storeroom door where V was sleeping on the floor. "Get up at once. Your lazyness has allowed the hearth to go out, and not even coals remain to light a fire. You must go to the witch of the wood and ask her for a coal"
"But stepmother," V cried out in vain. "The witch if the wood eats people! Surely she will not give me a coal!"
V's stepmother sneared down her long nose at her. "Go afore it is too dark to see the way."
And so V set off into the forest until not even the light of the moon could guide her steps. It was then that the quiet whispers of her mother's doll began to give directions through the dark wood.
Soon, V emerged into a strange clearing. In its centre, a wooden hut sat on top of tall wooden posts that looked almost like chickens feet. At the base of the hut was a small garden with all manner of plants growing. And surrounding the garden was a fence that seemed to be made of bones. Thankfully, as V approached the hut, she could see a warm light coming from within. This must be the home of the witch of the wood.
Following the fence of bone, V reached the garden gate. On either side of the gate were skulls set atop large bones. Small candles inside the skulls seemed to light as if by magic as soon as V touched the gate.
"Why are you here, child?" A voice called out from the hut. There in the doorway stood an old woman, her back bent from many years of hard work and her long grey hair gleaming in the moonlight.
V plucked up her courage and called out, "My stepmother sent me to find the witch of the wood to ask for a coal."
At her response, the old woman barked out a laugh that sounded more like the cawing of a crow than a human laugh. "And what will I get in return? I will not give you a coal for free."
Again, V plucked up her courage and responded, "I will work for it. I promise I'm a hard worker, you can see from my hands." At this V raised her hands for the old woman to inspect.
Seeing the calloses from many years of hard work, the old woman nodded. "Very well, you will work for me for a day and a night, and you will receive a coal from my hearth that will never go out."
With that, the old woman turned around and began to walk up to the hut. As she walked, she began to list the chores she wanted V to perform. "You will clean the house and yard, wash the laundry, and cook us two meals; breakfast and supper. You will go into the storeroom and separate rotten grains from sound grains and gather and store seeds from the garden."
After years of dealing with her stepmother's ever expanding list of demands, this old woman's jobs seemed almost easy by comparison.
"First, let's see your skills as a cook. Go to the garden and fetch us something for supper"
And so into the witch's garden, V went, gathering edible and medicinal plants until she had enough to make a hearty soup, which would helpfully ease some of the old woman's pain.
The old woman nodded at V's selection and led her up the ladder into the hut. On one side of the hut was a large stone hearth, and at its heart, five large coals gleamed as they cradled the base of a large iron pot.
"Take the pot to the stream and fill it halfway with water. Then return to make your soup." The old woman bid.
It took all of V's strength to lift the large iron pot from the hearth and carry it carefully down the ladder so as not to scorch the wood. Down the garden path, V carried the pot past the bone gate and back into the forest. Thankfully, her mother's blessing whispered directions, and V was able to quickly locate the nearby stream and fill the pot halfway.
Returning to the hut, V began chopping herbs and vegetables and throwing them in the pot. Soon the hearty supper was bubbling away in the pot and ready to be served.
The old woman passed V two wooden bowls and a large wooden ladle.
"You want two bowls of soup?" V asked the old woman.
"No, the other is for you, child." The old woman barked before hitting V with the large spoon. Doing quickly as she was bid, V ladled out two portions of the soup; one for her and one for the old witch.
With the soup placed in front of her, the old woman quickly ate her supper seemingly ravenous. V ate her portion much slower, not used to having supper anymore, though she was happy to refill the old woman's bowl with more soup when she was bid to.
With supper eaten, V gathered their bowls, spoons, and knife into the now empty iron pot and carried it down the ladder, through the garden gate and down to the stream to wash.
Upon her return, she found a pallet bed had been made up.
"That is for you," the old woman muttered as she walked over to her own bed tucked into the wall of the hut.
"But how will I get all of the jobs done if I sleep here?" V asked.
The old woman turned back to her with a strange smile on her face. "I'm sure a hard-working young woman such as yourself can find a way."
With that, the old woman climbed into bed, leaving V to climb into the pallet bed. When she heard the snores of the old woman, V pulled out her mother's doll from the secret pocket of her dress. "Please, little doll, I need your help once more. I can not do all that is asked of me, and my hands are blistered and sore."
Again, the little girl heard the doll's voice inside her head, "Sleep little one, the jobs will be done upon the rising of the sun."
With a smile on her face, V fell asleep, assured that her mother's blessing would help her once more.
When she awoke, V saw that the old woman was already awake and was staring into the hearth as she sipped on a strong smelling tea. "I see you were quite busy while you slept." The old woman said with a crooked smile and a gesture to the iron pot full of hot porrige.
"Are there other jobs you need me to complete?"
"You will eat this porridge and carry one of these coals to your stepmother's house. Then you will return here."
Once more, V did as she was bid.
Upon finishing her porridge, the old woman gave V a fox skull. Using large iron tongs, the old woman reached into the hearth and removed one of the hold glowing coals and placed it in the jaws of the fox.
"Take this to your stepmother's house to light her hearth and then return here."
And so V carried the skull, down the ladder, through the garden, out the gate and through the forest until she reached the edge where her father's house stood.
V knocked on the door, and her stepmother quickly opened the door, a look of shock and horror gracing her features.
No sooner had her stepmother opened the door, and then the coal had begun to glow brighter and brighter. Within moments, her stepmother's dress and the doorframe of the house began to smoke, and soon, both were burning merrily until naught but ashes remained.
Once more, V did as she was bid.
She returned to the witch in the wood and learned all that she could.
-
As a kid, I loved this version of the Baba Yaga tale, and now as an adult I love how these stories were the avenues for or my Nanna to pass on examples of small magic and witchcraft.
This is also probably why I've never had an issue with blood based magic when so many other witches do have an issue with it.
so make it
Cunt
Zoey would buy this on accident
Mira would buy this on purpose
Rumi would buy this on purpose but then hide it in case Celine came to visit
Bobby would buy it for the girls and give it to the girls with a post it that says GET IT? (And another that says IF YOU DON'T GET IT I'M REALLY SORRY)
Celine already has one

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
anger is a pain. treat it like the injury it is:
you feel angry (you feel pain)
stop, take a moment to gather yourself and breathe deeply (stop, take a moment to apply first aid to your wound)
find the root cause of your anger; what brought your anger about and how come? (find what caused your injury; what hurt you, what type of wound?)
what can you do to regain control? try not to fuel the anger with violence; mitigate by being gentle to yourself and others (what can you do to keep you safe from further and future injury? what further treatment do you need? try not to aggravate your wound; be gentle and cautious)
accept you've done all you can, continue to breathe deeply, and find comfort away from anger and violence (accept you have done all you can and continue to take care of yourself)
emphasizing these tags loudly:
I get to be more free as an adult than I ever did as a child and I think more kids need to know that. as a high schooler part of what made my depression so bad was being told over and over again that it was the most carefree time of my life. while I was trapped in an abusive home + amongst bullies at school + in a body that wasnât right for me. opportunities to be carefree donât end when you turn 18. you can be more you than ever as an adult and thatâs such a gift. I know âit can get betterâ is an annoying thing to see over and over when youâre as trapped as I was back then. and I know that if youâre still a kid you deserve to be free right this second. but it can and will get better and this is not where life stops being interesting. promise
When adults tell you being a kid is carefree they mean they miss having summer vacation and not having bills. That's it. That's basically the only thing.
People who cannot find beauty in every biome on earth are incredibly bizarre to me. "yeah this place is really beautiful but this place isnt :/". what the fuck are you talking about. start admiring that rock and that tree and that bug and that scrubby little plant and that weird animal and that extreme weather right now. im not telling you to go live there but please you gotta start enjoying all kinds of nature im begging you.
THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RETURN OF THE KING â Behind the Scenes

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
probably my most powerful interpersonal communication hack is to, whenever possible, ask either/or questions rather than yes/no questions
for example, when chatting with coworkers, iâll often ask if they have any fun weekend plans. but letâs be real - we all feel like friendless losers when someone asks that question and we go âuhhhhh⌠no.â so instead, i phrase it as âso, do you have anything fun planned over the weekend, or are you just going to enjoy having some time to relax?â
phrased like this, thereâs rarely any awkwardness. youâve presented two options & given both equally positive connotations, so your conversational partner has an automatic âout,â so to speak
but it works for higher stakes conversations too!!!! my mom was saying this weekend how she and her neighbor both like walking around the neighborhood & that she wanted to suggest they take a walk together sometime, but was worried about how to approach the conversation
so i said âhow about you just say âiâve noticed we both like taking walks! would you be interested in going for one together, or do you use walks for some precious alone time?ââ
now Walking Neighbor has an automatic âget out of jail free cardâ if she wants to say no!!!! which means my mom doesnât have to worry about the conversation being uncomfortable, because sheâs set it up to go smoothly
either/or questions rather than yes/no questions. it is really like magic
That Shakespeare lesson resonates with one of the things a bunch of the literacy experts called out in the articles I read, which was that as a society we arenât really MODELING literacy skills. Do kids see their teachers reading during breaks or are the teachers swamped and using every spare second for grading? Are parents reading books and talking about books or are they seeking the easiest relaxing stimulus on a screen just like the kids who canât read? Kids are REALLY GOOD at spotting hypocrisy
Any time someone starts some bullshit about how humans are hyperindividualistic and inherently selfish and exclusively motivated by self-intetest, I'll just tell them to go ahead and go do it then. Go live alone. Fuck off into the woods to make sure that no society ever benefits from your presence. See if you can teach yourself how to make a spear out of a rock or a shelter for one from nothing but your own wits and the nature around you. Go see how natural that feels, how happy it makes you to know that you don't need nobody and that nobody's life is improved by your presence.
"Stop saying 15 year olds with weird interests are cringe, they're 15" this is true however you should also stop saying adults with weird interests are cringe because who gives a shit
To wit:
I want to share some wisdom from my high school art teacher.
In my AP Art class, there was a girl who was just starting to experiment with mixed media. At this point she was still playing around, trying to decide what direction she wanted to go with her portfolio. So one critique day, she brought in an abstract canvas with some rhinestone highlights and painted and real peacock feathers. She loved sparkles and peacock feathers so she thought sheâd try introducing them a *little*. And after everyone had given some input, the teacher gave her his advice, VERY roughly paraphrased here:
âSo hereâs the thing⌠I do not like this style. These are just elements that do not speak to me personally, but I see that you like them, and youâre doing interesting things with them.
âMy biggest critique is, I only merely *dislike* this piece. I want you to make me HATE it. Go crazy with the things that you like. Donât hold back trying to make it palatable to people like me. Because I am NEVER going to like it. And if the audience does not like it, it should drive them crazy seeing how much YOU love it.â
Her portfolio was chock full of neon colors and glitter and rhinestones and splashes of peacock feathers and it was a delight. Our teacher despised every piece lol, but she got great marks and I think even won some awards. And more importantly, she was happy and proud of the results. Because she didnât limit herself by trying to appeal to people who were never going to enjoy what she enjoyed.
Takeaway here: be as cringe as you want. Donât limit yourself based on other pplâs tastes. Theyâre not you, and you are incredible đ
This is the most inspirational thing I've read all week. Possibly all year
Be the Lisa Frank you want to see in the world
I recently found out why my mom would never sleep around me when I was a kid. Like sheâd never let herself take naps or sleep if I was awake, ever. Or if she did, she would lock her bedroom door. So when I was 6, I was asleep in my bed in the middle of the night when I hear a loud bang, like a pot being dropped and come out to the living room to see my mom standing by the window, with just a huge pile of spaghetti all over the sill, and a pot on the ground, and I âm like âAre you gonna eat all that?â And yaâll she getâs BIG MAD and yells at me and chases me to my room but then a little while later a bunch of cops show up and ask me a bunch of random ass questions about my art? Like this one cop lady keeps asking me to draw dragons for her?! And they seem mad as hell
I didnât want to get arrested so I just never asked my mom for spaghettis after that. Lesson, learned. Donât ask mom for spaghettis or sheâll call the damn police on you.Â
So I have this memory in my head, and it goes unquestioned until I say it outload for the first time a few months back and as soon as I say the words âWhen I was six, my mom called the cops on me for asking for spaghettisâ My adult logic slams into place and is like âHang on. Your mother definatly did not call the police on a 6 year old for asking for spaghetti.âÂ
So obviously thatâs not what really went down. I call up my mom to tell her how I remember it and on top of her figuring out why her kid has always been really cagey around spaghettis for the last 3 decades she tells me what really happened.Â
So on that night, a man tried to break into our house through the front window. It was just my mom, and her kids so she did what she felt she had too and shot him in the head. Heâd been wearing a helmet, which landed on the floor under the window.
Now I just want yaâll to put yourselves in my moms shoes for a minute here. This woman has just taken a human life. The trauma of that- the instant agony, the panic, the guilt, the fear- all of it hitting her at once, her only solace the knowledge that her children are safe. She protected her daughters. No matter the cost to her soul- her children are safe.
Then she looks up and sees her six year old staring at the inside of this mans head before saying âAre you gonna eat all that?âÂ
I suspect they were trying to keep me busy and distracted while they cleaned up the corpse in the living room?!?
someone said tumblr nuked this post, but I could never be so lucky.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Dame Archer kicks McDougalâs Scots ass there in the rain at the Washington Midsummer Renaissance Faire - August 11, 2018 - Photo by Douglas Herring
Oh NO.
me, a sheltered noblewoman: Pray who is that brave knight? Dame Archer:*turns around* me: gasp! *instantly in love*
Alicia Archer
my bi heartâŚâŚâŚ
IâVE NEVER SEEN THE ADDED PICS
*dies*
Oh shit.
GAY KNIGHTS
Fellas Iâm real gay
@0hheytherebigbadwolf HELP!!
Every June this inevitably winds up back on my dash. And I appreciate that. And I will reblog it. Every time.
Hey, itâs @archerinventive, and the Pride Knights!
#i literally crack up everytime #at least ten of the notes are from me