Ătoiles Ătoiles Tiara by Chaumet, Paris
Crown made for Elenanna
we're not kids anymore.
Misplaced Lens Cap

â
Noah Kahan
ojovivo
todays bird
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Jules of Nature
untitled

izzy's playlists!

@theartofmadeline
Not today Justin
$LAYYYTER
One Nice Bug Per Day
The Bowery Presents

pixel skylines
will byers stan first human second
art blog(derogatory)
seen from Iraq
seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from Australia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil

seen from Singapore
seen from Russia
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from T1
seen from Spain

seen from Ecuador

seen from New Zealand

seen from Italy

seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Singapore
seen from United States
@rileysroleplayingephemera
Ătoiles Ătoiles Tiara by Chaumet, Paris
Crown made for Elenanna

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*tsk* Gotta hate it when you chip a nail.
nerds are all "acab" and "be gay do crime" until you write a fanfiction they don't like, then they try to narc on you to the literal feds
you can't say ACAB if what you really mean is you want you and your buddies to be the cops
~ you can't say ACAB if what you really mean is you want you and your buddies to be the cops ~
Reuven @ Pam (the second part, anyway)
You should be aware that many frum Christians have a diorama of the mishpacha ha'kodesh gathered in a barn sitting out as a decoration. This is called a "nativity" and it is for decorative purposes only. While they are representative figurines, they are not considered to be sacred idols in and of themselves, nor are they toys for the children even if they might look like it. Try to treat it like you might treat decorative Judaica or Jewish art and basically ignore it.
(These are not "festive," by the way.)

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Kitâs character development: I was doing okay but now I have angst about my biological daughter and her parents - okay, theyâre probably dead now and people just keep dying because of me, I think I need to keep this dog - the dog is dead and I have no will to live
Reuvenâs character development: Okay, letâs do something - what the fuck is wrong with Pam - I am going to kill Pam I swear to god (repeat ad nauseum). I miss my husband and if he gets hurt itâs my fault; I killed somebody and itâs very upsetting; I am not fucking going to let anything happen to Kit.
Pamâs character development: Letâs fuck everyone and everything up! Ad hominems are helpful! Buy some Wild Turkey! I need to shop at Hot Topic while weâre on the run! I cut off a guyâs finger! Dragon firework! Give me the Dwarf Ring! Iâm gonna carve some potatoes! Mohammed is dreamy. Fight with my friends some more! Try to start a prison riot! Get hit by lightning! Iâm pregnant.
helpful grammar tip! farther is for physical distance, further is for metaphorical distance, and father is for emotional distance!
Who hurt you?
my father did you not read the post
@cattlecrossing Kit?
Elenanna
is alatar problematic
I mean...
*fails to stop apocalypse cult of Sauron
*puts off world-saving responsibilities on random humans
*finds prophecied saviours with free cruise scam
*wanders off and leaves his friend alone in the desert
*travels around the world to find prospective allies and then misses them by two hours
*impossible to contact
*uses umbrella for a staff
Yeah, Iâd say so.
Chapter One aesthetic for Pam Martel
(PC belonging to @natalie-is-my-name)
The OCs Project

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Chapter One aesthetic for Kit (Kaelyn) Howard
(@whimzhbeeaffairsâs PC)
The OCs Project
Things Reuven Has Totally Done
(somehow this ended up being a call-out post for my character, in the vein of âguess what my trashy friend did, I love himâ and idk, Iâm pretty all right with that)
-literally pierced his ears in high school to be even more Aggressively Gay despite not actually⌠wanting⌠pierced earsâŚ
-after babysitting for a friend, told him, âOh yeah, so I let her have popcorn and stay up an extra twenty minutes â itâs supposed to be a secret, so when she slips up and tells you, make a big huge deal about it.â
-told his stepfather, in response to God-knows-what allegation about protests and rallies, âYou think Iâm afraid of jail? I lived in your house.â He was literally still living there.
-in college, in response to a friend he was walking with making an inappropriate comment loudly about some girl they walked past, yelled âFUCKING NOâ and pushed him off the sidewalk and into a hedge
-said to his husband, in front of his in-laws, âOh, yeah, thatâll make your family life easier; Iâll pick a fight with your mother.â
-went to his high school reunion for the sole purpose of pissing off the people who had probably assumed he wouldnât show
-insisted that his stepdaughter refer to their celebrations on December 25th as âGingerbread House Dayâ until she can think of something better because even if it sounds dumb, âitâs also a lot less likely to give your grandparents a coronary!â
-blasted Phantom of the Opera for like three days after a neighbour in his college dorm suggested he âtone it down with the gay stuff, alreadyâ, until he caused a suitable amount of regret - while in fact wearing earphones most of that time, because he⌠wasnât even actually all that into musicals. And then periodically played it for a couple hours once or twice a month as a reminder (of what? Who knows. âDonât fuck with me,â probably. Itâs highly unlikely anyone needed to be reminded he was gay. Except Maggie.)
-gotten himself out of tricky babysitting and then later parenting corners using loopholes so often that his eight-year-old stepdaughter announced with disgust, âDad, heâs cheating at life again!â
-described his sister-in-lawâs husbandâs personality as âtoast with saltless butter on it â itâs not technically dry, but it doesnât actually taste like anythingâ
Reuven Svobodya, Chapter One
(An aesthetic for my PC in my current tabletop game.)
The OCs Project
You're asexual? But...
âbut sex is what makes us human!â
 in 1916 a French officer in his twenties writes his
doctoral dissertation under
heavy mortar fire.
he sends it by mail, a page
at a time, to his wife.
a week before heâs to step up to the podium and
defend his work rather than his country
he is killed in action.
even as the bullets rip
through him he still wishes he could have become a professor
in French literature and
the university awards him a posthumous Ph.D.
sex is
 a woman breaks down in tears on the phone because
a week is not enough time to
get over a breakup.
her sister drives an hour across town,
comes up the front steps with
a gallon of ice cream and some beer
and together they eat moose tracks and marathon
every
single
Godzilla movie
ever made.
 sex is
sheâs late for work but her car isnât
starting and even through her coat and hat sheâs cold.
she knows she canât be late again because sheâs missed
one time too many already because her
fatherâs nurse was sick with the flu and someone
needed to help him bathe.
the clock ticks past fifteen after and she hits
the wheel like itâs a heavy bag as though that will help
steps on the gas like the car will go
and wonders how she will pay rent
and how she will feed her father.
sex is
 it takes three people to hold the predator down because
even with the cover over his head
a bleeding eye and shattered wing
he is trying to hurt them.
none of them have seen this bird before in their lives but
they bandage his wing and head and give him a painkiller and
put him in a warm place to sleep and heal because
it is right.
at first he is paralyzed and cannot
fly but soon he is taking steps
and then fluttering, and then soaring, and
six months later he is whole and healed and hunting.
once he is gone they never see him again
which means theyâve done their jobs right.
sex is
 in 1969 a girl watches grey-and-white footage on her parentsâ tiny television and
canât quite believe that what she is seeing is not a movie set but
another planet.
the men on the screen look a little like
aliens with bulbous heads and no faces and fat
marshmallow arms
but they are still men.
her mother puffs on a cigarette behind her and declares that
this is progress
even if it was just a small step.
the girl grows up to be not an astronaut but a secretary
and her boss calls her âsweetheartâ.
but sex is
 a boy is taught that real men donât cry so
he doesnât.
when his best friend dies from a self-inflicted
gunshot wound, he locks himself
in the shower every day and sobs under scalding
water until it runs cold
so nobody will see him grieving
so nobody will see that tears are just love that
has no place left to go.
he learns to dull love rather than suppress its expression and
soon the owner of the liquor store knows him by name.
three DUIs, two evictions, and twelve steps later,
he is feeding people at a homeless shelter,
and telling them itâs all right to cry.
Sex is
 the broken man tells the comedian
that he didnât mean to step in front of the car but the rain
made it hard to see.
he seems okay but his leg
does not.
the comedian clutches a grubby receipt with the driverâs
plate number scrawled on the back
in pink pen, stands out in the rain so the broken man
can have his umbrella,
and gives him the comedy routine that ruined his career
so the man doesnât think about the pain in his leg.
once heâs out of the hospital, the fixed man sends him a thank-you card
with kittens on it.
what makes us human
 yawning is contagious,
and there is a species of bird whose young we call âpufflingsâ.
melodic collections of sound, spaced by silence,
can move us to tears.
the tallest building in the world is
two-thousand seven-hundred and seventeen feet tall.
in less than eighty years we went from our first powered flight
to touching the moon,
and in one-hundred from the first phone call
to instantaneous connection between thinking machines of our own creation.
we make pies out of tree organs
and let cowâs milk ferment until it hardens and then
we put them together, because apple pie with cheddar cheese isdelicious.
what makes us human is
the earliestfossils of anatomically modern humans are
two-hundred thousand years old .
we have had pet dogs
for sixteen-thousand of those years, longer
than corn
or the wheel.
the steps we take are part of
one of the most energy-efficient gaits the
animal kingdom has ever seen.
we invented the concepts of love
and hate
and justice, and mercy
and we invented the language to convey them.
we sharpened rocks, then metal, to convince other people
who donât hold the same idea of those things as we do
because we think
itâs right.
we are two hundred millennia of love and disappointment and
sorrow and innovation and
mercy and kindness and dreams
and failure
and recovery.
âbut sex is what makes us human.â
sat and read this all the way through. will reblog the shit out of this every time i see it. holy jesus. YES to all of this. just yes.
this is one of the most beautiful things Iâve ever read.
@cattlecrossing More Kit-related stuff.
I keep seeing this picture and people being oh so impressed by it acting like Dubaiâs Sheikhs are miracle workers or some shit. And all that skyline does is make me want to throw up. Do you understand how all of this was built?
âŚand then there is the foreign underclass who built the city, and are trapped here. They are hidden in plain view. You see them everywhere, in dirt-caked blue uniforms, being shouted at by their superiors, like a chain gang â but you are trained not to look. It is like a mantra: the Sheikh built the city. The Sheikh built the city. Workers? What workers?
Sahinal Monir, a slim 24-year-old from the deltas of Bangladesh. âTo get you here, they tell you Dubai is heaven. Then you get here and realise it is hell,â he says. Four years ago, an employment agent arrived in Sahinalâs village in Southern Bangladesh. He told the men of the village that there was a place where they could earn 40,000 takka a month (ÂŁ400) just for working nine-to-five on construction projects. It was a place where they would be given great accommodation, great food, and treated well. All they had to do was pay an up-front fee of 220,000 takka (ÂŁ2,300) for the work visa â a fee theyâd pay off in the first six months, easy. So Sahinal sold his family land, and took out a loan from the local lender, to head to this paradise.
As soon as he arrived at Dubai airport, his passport was taken from him by his construction company. He has not seen it since. He was told brusquely that from now on he would be working 14-hour days in the desert heat â where western tourists are advised not to stay outside for even five minutes in summer, when it hits 55 degrees â for 500 dirhams a month (ÂŁ90), less than a quarter of the wage he was promised. If you donât like it, the company told him, go home. âBut how can I go home? You have my passport, and I have no money for the ticket,â he said. âWell, then youâd better get to work,â they replied.
He shows me his room. It is a tiny, poky, concrete cell with triple-decker bunk-beds, where he lives with 11 other men. All his belongings are piled onto his bunk: three shirts, a spare pair of trousers, and a cellphone. The room stinks, because the lavatories in the corner of the camp â holes in the ground â are backed up with excrement and clouds of black flies. There is no air conditioning or fans, so the heat is âunbearable. You cannot sleep. All you do is sweat and scratch all night.â At the height of summer, people sleep on the floor, on the roof, anywhere where they can pray for a moment of breeze.
 âThereâs a huge number of suicides in the camps and on the construction sites, but theyâre not reported. Theyâre described as âaccidentsâ.â Even then, their families arenât free: they simply inherit the debts. A Human Rights Watch study found there is a âcover-up of the true extentâ of deaths from heat exhaustion, overwork and suicide, but the Indian consulate registered 971 deaths of their nationals in 2005 alone. After this figure was leaked, the consulates were told to stop counting.
This is a callout post for RAFIQ FUCKING BASHIR, the goddamn Nazgul.

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I burned so long and so quiet, you must have wondered if I loved you back. I did, I did, I do.
Annelyse Gelman, from âThe Pillowcaseâ in Everyone I Love is a Stranger to Someone (via alonesomes)
Reuven and Pavel
Couldnât find the horses in the fog. Luckily they found me.
@cattlecrossing
Kit stuff