I'm open to talk.
I don't mind spam liking.
Links to ask games/Ask for analysis:
Song analysis for Doctor Who

ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON
cherry valley forever
ojovivo

d e v o n

Andulka
Game of Thrones Daily

titsay
sheepfilms

bliss lane
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Mike Driver

JVL

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
NASA
𓃗
occasionally subtle
🪼
Show & Tell
seen from Chile
seen from China
seen from Syria

seen from Malaysia
seen from France

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Indonesia

seen from Indonesia

seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from Colombia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Paraguay

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
@shinybridge
I'm open to talk.
I don't mind spam liking.
Links to ask games/Ask for analysis:
Song analysis for Doctor Who

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
I was talking about Sherlock Holmes with my cool weird 42 year old coworker the other day and he said that he had read other works by ACD but not any Sherlock Holmes. ACD is smiling down from heaven on his one and only true fan.
Console buttons from Star Trek: The Original Series (1966-69)
It is really important to me that all of you learn about Al Bean, astronaut on Apollo 12 and the fourth man to walk on the moon, who after 20 years in the US Navy and 18 years with NASA during which he spent 69 days in space and more than 10 hours doing EVAs on the moon , retired to become a painter.
He is my favorite astronaut for any number of reasons, but he’s also one of my favorite visual artists.
Like, look at this stuff????
It’s all so expressive and textured and colorful! He literally painted his own experience on the moon! And that's just really fucking cool to me!
Just look at this! This is one of my absolute favorite emotions of all time. Is Anyone Out There? is like the ultimate reaction image. Any time I have an existential crisis, this is how I picture myself.
And then there's this one:
The Fantasy
For all of the six Apollo missions to land on the moon, there was no spare time. Every second of their time on the surface was budgeted to perfection: sleeping, eating, putting on the suits, entering and exiting the LEM, rock collection, setting up longterm experiments to transmit data back to Earth, everything. These timetables usually got screwed over by something, but for the most part the astronauts stuck to them.
The crew of Apollo 12 (Pete Conrad, Al Bean, and Dick Gordon) had other plans. Conrad and Bean had snuck a small camera with a timer into the LEM to take a couple pictures together on the moon throughout the mission. They had hidden the key for the timer in one of the rock collection bags, with the idea being to grab the key soon after landing, take some fun photos here and there, and then sneak the camera back to Earth to develop them. They had practiced where they would hide the key and how to get it out from under the collected rocks back on Earth dozens of times.
But when they got to the moon, the key was nowhere to be found. Al Bean spent precious time digging through the collection bags before he called it off. The camera had been pushing their luck anyways, he couldn't afford to spend anymore time not on the mission objectives. Conrad and Bean continued the mission as per the NASA plan while Dick Gordon orbited overhead.
Fast forward to the very end of the mission. Bean and Conrad are doing last checks of the LEM before they enter for the last time and depart from the moon. As Bean is stowing one of the collection bags, the camera key falls out. The unofficially planned photo time has come and gone, and he tosses the key over his shoulder to rest forever on the surface of the moon.
This painting, The Fantasy, is that moment. There have never been three people on the moon at the same time, there was never an unofficial photo shoot on the moon, this picture could never have happened.
"The most experienced astronaut was designated commander, in charge of all aspects of the mission, including flying the lunar module. Prudent thinking suggested that the next-most-experienced crew member be assigned to take care of the command module, since it was our only way back home. Pete had flown two Gemini flights, the second with Dick as his crewmate. This left the least experienced - me - to accompany the commander on the lunar surface.
"I was the rookie. I had not flown at all; yet I got the prize assignment. But not once during the three years of training which preceded our mission did Dick say that it wasn't fair and that he wished he could walk on the moon, too. I do not have his unwavering discipline or strength of character.
"We often fantasized about Dick's joining us on the moon but we never found a way. In my paintings, though, I can have it my way. Now, at last, our best friend has come the last sixty miles." - Al Bean, about The Fantasy.
The Alan Bean Gallery
To be honest, this one
Almost made me cry right now.
I love it. Something about it feels so incredibly human. The emotion on display, even without a face to show it. This is magnificent. Truly magnificent. I feel it in my soul.
It is really important to me that all of you learn about Al Bean, astronaut on Apollo 12 and the fourth man to walk on the moon, who after 20 years in the US Navy and 18 years with NASA during which he spent 69 days in space and more than 10 hours doing EVAs on the moon , retired to become a painter.
He is my favorite astronaut for any number of reasons, but he’s also one of my favorite visual artists.
Like, look at this stuff????
It’s all so expressive and textured and colorful! He literally painted his own experience on the moon! And that's just really fucking cool to me!
Just look at this! This is one of my absolute favorite emotions of all time. Is Anyone Out There? is like the ultimate reaction image. Any time I have an existential crisis, this is how I picture myself.
And then there's this one:
The Fantasy
For all of the six Apollo missions to land on the moon, there was no spare time. Every second of their time on the surface was budgeted to perfection: sleeping, eating, putting on the suits, entering and exiting the LEM, rock collection, setting up longterm experiments to transmit data back to Earth, everything. These timetables usually got screwed over by something, but for the most part the astronauts stuck to them.
The crew of Apollo 12 (Pete Conrad, Al Bean, and Dick Gordon) had other plans. Conrad and Bean had snuck a small camera with a timer into the LEM to take a couple pictures together on the moon throughout the mission. They had hidden the key for the timer in one of the rock collection bags, with the idea being to grab the key soon after landing, take some fun photos here and there, and then sneak the camera back to Earth to develop them. They had practiced where they would hide the key and how to get it out from under the collected rocks back on Earth dozens of times.
But when they got to the moon, the key was nowhere to be found. Al Bean spent precious time digging through the collection bags before he called it off. The camera had been pushing their luck anyways, he couldn't afford to spend anymore time not on the mission objectives. Conrad and Bean continued the mission as per the NASA plan while Dick Gordon orbited overhead.
Fast forward to the very end of the mission. Bean and Conrad are doing last checks of the LEM before they enter for the last time and depart from the moon. As Bean is stowing one of the collection bags, the camera key falls out. The unofficially planned photo time has come and gone, and he tosses the key over his shoulder to rest forever on the surface of the moon.
This painting, The Fantasy, is that moment. There have never been three people on the moon at the same time, there was never an unofficial photo shoot on the moon, this picture could never have happened.
"The most experienced astronaut was designated commander, in charge of all aspects of the mission, including flying the lunar module. Prudent thinking suggested that the next-most-experienced crew member be assigned to take care of the command module, since it was our only way back home. Pete had flown two Gemini flights, the second with Dick as his crewmate. This left the least experienced - me - to accompany the commander on the lunar surface.
"I was the rookie. I had not flown at all; yet I got the prize assignment. But not once during the three years of training which preceded our mission did Dick say that it wasn't fair and that he wished he could walk on the moon, too. I do not have his unwavering discipline or strength of character.
"We often fantasized about Dick's joining us on the moon but we never found a way. In my paintings, though, I can have it my way. Now, at last, our best friend has come the last sixty miles." - Al Bean, about The Fantasy.
The Alan Bean Gallery
To be honest, this one
Almost made me cry right now.
I love it. Something about it feels so incredibly human. The emotion on display, even without a face to show it. This is magnificent. Truly magnificent. I feel it in my soul.

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
A friend asked me for a list of Latin words and phrases for very beginner conversation, so I thought I'd share it here. (Aka how to start speaking Latin when you only know one tense, two declensions and a bunch of words for war)
General words and phrases:
ave (hello)
vale/valēte (hello, goodbye, be well [singular/plural])
nōn (no, not)
sic (yes, thus)
-ne (add to the end of the first word of a question)
valēsne? (are you well? [singular])
valeō (I am well)
estne bonum? (is it good?)
bonum est (it's good)
quid est hōc? (what is this?)
id est _____ (it is _____)
nomen meum est ______ (my name is ______)
quot habēs annōs? (how many years old are you?)
annōs ______ habeō (I am ______ years old)
Verbs:
habēre (have/possess, 2nd conjugation)
vidēre (see, 2nd conjugation)
audīre (hear, 4th conjugation)
valēre (be well, 2nd conjugation)
Nouns:
liber, libri (book, 2nd declension)
mensa, -ae (table)
stilus, -i (pen)
verbum, -i (word)
Adjectives:
bonus, -a, -um (good)
magnus, -a, -um (big)
parvus, -a, -um (little)
Adverbs:
bene (well)
male (badly)
valdē (much, greatly, a lot)
latīne (in Latin)
anglice (in English)
GUYS. JUST IMAGINE. Rocky spooking like a horse with unusual texture/sound objects-
Laminated paper: WUBWUBWUBWUB
Rocky: *Scrambling backwards* "BAD SOUND STATEMENT" Crashing into a wall* "BAD" *frantically trying to climb up Grace* "BAD BAD BAD*
Saw a post about Stratt and Grace getting married so he couldn’t testify against her in court and I believe the interaction goes something like as follows:
“Grace, I need your signature.”
Grace looked up from his work in his closet of an office. Stratt closed the door behind her.
“An autograph? I’m flattered.”
She pushed the work off his already disheveled desk and set a single paper on top. It kind of looked like his degree, it kind of looked like-
“A marriage license? Well, now I’m really flattered.”
“For legal reasons. Just sign.” Stratt muttered.
“Are you serious?”
Of course she was serious. She only was serious. But she seemed…uncomfortable? The feeling looked strange on her. Eyes dart between the paper and him. Arms crossed over her chest as if hugging herself. It was definitely a new look. They were in new territory.
“I’m not the marrying type.” said Grace. “And I think I forgot to propose.”
Stratt breathed in deeply. Steeling herself.
“Grace,” Her hands were fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve. “What I’m doing here is illegal. I’ve broken alot of rules to give the crew a chance to save us. But once the mission begins…the world order will need to go back to how it was.”
Grace listened intently trying to make eye contact with her glassy gaze. He hadn’t thought to much about the legality of it all. After all, that was her job.
“I will be put on trial. I will be found guilty. I will serve the rest of my life behind bars. That is my cost.” Stratt continued, “You, the team, will all be fine. But-”
She pushed the license closer to Grace.
“Spouses don’t testify in court.”
Finally she looked at him. She wasn’t telling him to sign. If that was the case she probably would’ve just forged his signature. Hell, she probably has a whole team just for that purpose. She was asking him.
His choice. Just between the two of them.
“We don’t have to sleep together, right?”
Her eyes went big. “God Grace! No! Just sign the damn paper!” she huffed.
He smiled. And put his name under hers.
Husband and wife.
Well, more like “Most powerful person in the world” and “Some guy she kept around.” But still. Till death do they part.

reblog to bap prev with your paw
The longer it takes for this to come across your dash the funnier it is
Which will fade first? Memories of the Area 51 "raid", or memories of Internet Explorer?

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
Rocky holding up Grace: Leaky.
Adrian: No, don’t be mean.
Rocky gently swaying Grace: Leaky space blob.
Adrian: No!
Grace grinning as Rocky sways them in the air: Very leaky, squishy blob.
Adrian, warbling: Noooo!
”spam like = block” yeah ok buddy. when i wake up to tumblr notifs of someone spam liking my stuff i start giggling and kicking my feet
guy who is facing the conces of his quences
“yes, I’ve been wanting to read that!” I say with complete earnestness, as I proceed to ignore every opportunity I have to read it
“I’ve been meaning to read/watch/listen to that, but the stars are not in position, so I can’t do it yet”
Reblog if
It’s 104% okay to come to your DM and just say, “Hi, can we be friends?” And then start asking you random questions.

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
Reblog to give the person you reblogged this from a Croissant (🥐).
Okay but imagine being one of Grace's students. Your favorite science teacher takes a few days off without warning and you get a boring substitute. Then he comes back, assigns you Rock Sorting, tells you that the sun is dying and in 30 years life on Earth will be almost impossible, but it's only 30 years and you are barely into your first decade on this planet so you relax and get ready to do Rock Sorting. Then your favorite teacher suddenly seems to snap a synapse, revokes the Rock Sorting and gives you study hall instead, and then leaves the classroom. Wow, Mr. Grace sure is acting weird lately. You do your remaining homework, joke around with your friends, and finish the school day happy and ready for tomorrow when your favorite teacher will teach you some actually cool science stuff. Or give you Rock Sorting. Whatever, it doesn't matter, Mr. Grace can make anything fun.
You come back the next day and he's not there. You have a substitute again.
And the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
You ask the principal, the vice principal, and the other teachers what's going on. Where's Mr. Grace? Is he okay? None of them can tell you. None of them know. One of them spotted him tearing out of the parking lot at light speed the other day, but they don't know anything else. Your favorite science teacher has simply vanished.
Days pass. Weeks. The substitutes are finally replaced by a new, not-fun science teacher. Not a bad teacher, but... not Mr. Grace. The new teacher begins taking down all of the cool stuff in the room. The Jacob's Ladder. The specimen jars. The solar system. You watch, silently, as your favorite teacher's mark is erased from the room. You find your new teacher at the end of the day and ask if you can keep the solar system. They apologize and say it's already in the dumpster.
You ask the adults again about Mr. Grace and get largely the same answers. No one has seen him. Not his family, not his friends. The principal went to his apartment a few weeks ago to check on him, but he wasn't there, nor was his car. His apartment showed no signs of life.
You hear whispers. Rumors. The stress got to him. He missed studying at the universities. He couldn't stand being tied down to a bunch of unruly kids. He crashed. He flew off the bridge.
You block it out, along with the growing talk of the sun dying.
Time goes by, and you slowly grow accustomed to your new science teacher. Your classmates seem to have moved on with no problem. Almost no one mentions his name anymore. His picture is gone from the staff line-up. His nameplates are nowhere to be found. You yourself struggle to think of him, to daily hold him in memory when everyone else seems to not care. But every so often, you'll catch a classmate's eye, and you'll see the same question there: What happened to Mr. Grace? And every so often, you'll overhear a few teachers whispering to each other in the halls. About what they thought they saw. Government vehicles. A woman in black. I heard he was drafted or something...
You and your classmates come up with your own theories. His parents got deathly sick and he rushed home to take care of them. He forgot something at his apartment but was driving so badly he got lost and is now on the other side of the country, still trying to find his way back home. He had an ex-girlfriend who was about to get on a plane for Nicaragua and he suddenly realized how much he still loved her and had to go tell her before she left, and they've run off somewhere together.
Anything is better than believing that he's gone.
One day, your parents sit you down in front of the TV and make you watch the President's special 4th address in the past 18 months. It's about the sun dying, and the astrophage, and the plan to stop it. They call it Project Hail Mary. They're going to send a rocket ship to a nearby star that isn't dying and study it to find out why it isn't dying, and hopefully use that information to save the sun. The mission plans to launch within the next two years. There will be a crew of three. They won't be able to return home because there won't be enough fuel.
Studying stars and distant planets. Leaving and never coming back. You think of your favorite teacher, and the world feels too big and too scary.
Time passes. You graduate 8th grade and officially enter high school, leaving behind the place where Mr. Grace taught you. Only a handful of your former classmates end up at the same high school as you. Every so often, NASA gives an update regarding Project Hail Mary. The past is slowly fading, and the astrophage-riddled future is slowly approaching.
Things begin to change. You hear about strange weather all over the world. Your social studies teacher halts mid-lesson to show you a video of the Sahara Desert covered in black rectangles. The news is filled with rumors of countries stockpiling crops and supplies in preparation for the coming apocalypse. The number of sidewalk preachers significantly spikes. One day the internet explodes with news that an ice cap in Antarctica has exploded and fallen into the sea. None of it feels real. Nothing feels right ever since your favorite teacher disappeared.
There's other stuff, too. The Hail Mary is slowly being assembled in orbit above Earth. The crew and back-up crew have been selected. The prime and back-up scientists are both American. You feel a jolt of hope, but--no, neither of them is Mr. Grace; that's not what happened to him. And then you feel relieved, because those people are going to die in space anyway.
Launch day is impending. It's only a few months away--three days before you graduate 9th grade and start summer break before becoming a sophomore. A new start for everyone. This year is hard enough already. But in the back of your head, you hear the voice of your favorite teacher telling you that it's going to get worse, and it's going to get worse faster than you think.
You ignore it, and feel awful for doing so.
It's less than a week until the Hail Mary launches from Earth into the depths of the galaxy. You feel nervous, but you can't say why. The weird weather has continued, but otherwise life is the same. The catastrophic effects haven't begun yet. You make yourself look forward to summer break and smile. You're almost there. You've made good grades all year, especially in science. Mr. Grace would be proud. Wherever he is.
You meet up with some of your old classmates after school and kick around downtown, doing your best not to feel the apprehension that still hangs around you like a cloud. Everything is fine. Everything's going to be okay. Earth's finest are going on a mission to save the sun. They're going to succeed. Everything's going to be okay.
One of your friends gets a notification on their phone and stares at it for longer than a minute, looking horrified. You all crowd around the phone and gape at the announcement from NASA. There was an explosion at the Russian research facility, and both of the Hail Mary's science specialists were killed. They are trying to find a replacement. They have good candidates. There will be an update shortly.
A shiver runs down your spine. But you squash the fear to comfort your friends, to remind them that NASA has a plan and the mission will still launch. It has to. Everything's going to be okay.
At long last, it's Launch Day.
You have heard no updates about Project Hail Mary other than the scientist position has been filled and the launch is proceeding as scheduled. You tell yourself the nerves are what everyone is feeling. The fate of the world rests in this ship and its crew.
They'll succeed. Everything's going to be okay. Summer is coming. Even if it might be your last real summer.
The launch is being covered all day on all channels, but all the teachers still require you to put your phones away and do school. As if history isn't being made. Finally, in science, your teacher pulls out the projector. No more studying. The Hail Mary is launching in the next two hours, and you should all get to watch.
You stare at the screen in amazement. The Hail Mary is shown in orbit above the Earth, big and strange and beautiful with its tiny crew compartment and giant fuel storage. Down on Earth, NASA is preparing a small craft to fly up to the Hail Mary. The crew will transfer over, get strapped in, and the Hail Mary will launch itself. The crew will be in comas for the whole trip. That way they won't go insane.
The reporters shift topics. The crew is coming out. You sit up in your chair, eager to see the saviors of Earth... before they fly off into space and are never seen again by the rest of humanity.
Commander Yao Li-jie. The pilot. He salutes, and you feel the urge to salute back. Or bow.
Olesya Ilyukhina. The engineer. She waves vigorously and throws up double peace signs. You almost smile. She doesn't seem to be thinking about how she's going to die.
And the scientist. The reporters apologize, the Hail Mary's science specialist is already aboard the craft, already unconscious by request, to minimize panic. He was brought in so late, didn't have much time to get accustomed to space travel. But we salute him all the same for stepping up and filling the spot after that tragic accident.
An image appears to fill the screen, with text underneath. Your heart stops.
You are thirteen years old again. You are sitting in your desk all ready for Rock Sorting. One of your classmates asks a question. It was the last normal moment of your life.
The reporters are talking, but you barely hear it. No one else in the room seems to be feeling the world fall apart the way you are. You look across the room at one of your classmates. She's the one who asked the question. You see it in her eyes. The same disbelief. The same shock. You're not dreaming. You look back up at the front of the classroom.
After all this time, there he is--right there in front of you. Your favorite teacher in the whole wide world, who taught you to be curious, who taught you to never stop learning, who told you that life was about to get very hard, but it didn't sound so scary when he was right there telling you about it. Dr. Ryland Grace, Microbiologist. About to be sent off to space to die.
His picture and name blur in your vision, and the ache you've been burying since 8th grade opens up to swallow your stomach.
Then the screen changes, and he's gone.