No matter how often this gets reblogged:

if i look back, i am lost

Love Begins
Show & Tell
wallacepolsom
todays bird
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

@theartofmadeline
art blog(derogatory)
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Misplaced Lens Cap

Kaledo Art
dirt enthusiast
Monterey Bay Aquarium

roma★
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
noise dept.
almost home

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@sithhappensrandomly
No matter how often this gets reblogged:

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Whitebeard: MARCO!
Thatch, probably: Polo!
Marco, sweating profusely: where??
Mlem.
ikea released introductions on how to build different furniture forts
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
*happy plant dyer noises*

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When I was a kid, my mom was a judge and my dad was starting his solo practice, and they both worked full time. There were four of us kids between the ages of one and seven (the Just Us League) and no decent daycares nearby, so they hired a nanny. She had three almost-adult children, and on days when she couldn’t work, one of her kids would substitute. The oldest kid was named Bob, age 18, and he had just finished army basic training when this all went down. Bob did not have the good sense god gave a rock.
I have an older brother, Jake, who was seven; then me, Hellen, age five, then Seth, age three, and my little sister Gin would have been one. It was late August, and we were at our nanny’s house, though she was gone for the day. Bob was in charge.
Bob should probably not have been in charge.
Bob tried keeping us entertained with board games and tag and movies. Gin took a nap. Eventually he decided to get creative, and sat us down in the living room with a game and vanished into the garage. There was a smashing sound. And then some saw noises. And then some hammering. And then we saw him going around the house to the back yard through the windows, though we were too short to see what he was doing. And finally, he yelled to us to come out into the driveway.
Jake and Seth and I trooped out. Bob had both hands behind his back. He stepped up to Jake and revealed what he had in his right hand.
It was a wooden sword. It was clearly made from what appeared to be parts of a chair’s legs, cut down and nailed together. He presented this, and announced, “You are Sir Jake, the strongest knight!”
He stepped up to Seth and presented what was in his left hand. It was another wooden sword, smaller than the first, also crudely made out of chair legs. He announced, “You are Sir Seth, the bravest knight!”
At this point, I was practically vibrating in place, waiting eagerly for my sword so I could use it to whale on my brothers, as god intended me to do. I was therefore understandably disappointed to be presented with the business end of a garden hose and told, “You are Miss Hellen, the Water Fairy!”
“No,” I said. “I want a sword.”
Bob was confused. “But you get water magic! Magic’s great!”
“No.” I repeated, holding the hose. It had a spray nozzle set to jet. “I want a sword.”
“Magic’s great. Magic’s better than a sword.” Bob insisted. “You’ll see. Wait here a moment.”
And then Bob ran around the side of house and vanished.
We stood in the driveway. Jake and Seth poked each other with their swords. I spritzed them idly with the hose, trying to decide which of them would be easier to steal a sword from.
And then we heard a quiet wooshing noise, and smelled smoke.
We turned. As we watched, a line of fire rushed around the corner of the house, consuming a path of gasoline poured into the dry August grass.
We paused and considered this for a few moments. I raised the hose and sprayed a jet of water at the fire. It went out. We glanced at each other. Then we took off running, following the trail of fire, spraying as we went.
The fire led in a path around the house to the back yard. As we turned the corner, we saw Bob, clad in a bathrobe and holding a curtain rod, standing in the center of a large ring of burning grass. He cackled manically. “I am the FIRE WIZARD! Your puny swords are useless! Nothing but water magic can defeat me!”
I promptly blasted him with the hose. He spluttered. The fire did not go out.
I turned the hose on the fire itself, spraying a section close to us so that it would extinguish. As soon as there was enough room, Jake charged forward, brandishing his chair leg sword with a battle cry. Seth, always happy to be included, followed. They ran into the circle and began beating Bob around the kneecaps with their swords. I kept spraying.
Eventually, Bob the Fire Wizard was brought down and all the fire was extinguished. Seth and Jake continued to work on bruising Bob’s shins, and I quickly discarded the hose to lend my fists and extremely pointy elbows to the cause. Bob lay in the smoldering grass, probably regretting using such sturdy chair legs.
Once we’d all tired ourselves out and lay panting in a heap, Bob decided it was time for the moral of the story. “You see, a sword is nothing compared to the power of a little girl with **magic**.”
We thought about this for a few moments. Bob nodded wisely. Jake and Seth nodded back.
“I still want a sword.” I said.
there’s a lot of people in the tags and replies expressing several concerns, which I will address:
“Where was Gin?” She was sleeping in a crib on the sunporch. We did this a lot–played outside while she napped–because we could hear her if she woke up and started crying, but were less likely to wake her up. She slept through the whole thing and was totally fine.
“You can’t put out a gasoline fire with water.” At the time, my little kid brain assumed that any flammable liquid was gas, but in retrospect it could have been almost anything. It very well may have been something other than gasoline. All I know is I could extinguish it with a garden hose.
“What did your parents say?” A lot of swear words at a very high volume.
“Did you get a sword?” Yes. Lots. Here are a couple of them, and also my pet ringneck dove, Arson. You can see how this all may have had some lasting effect on me.
Is that a real bird?? :0
Yes, she’s real. This is Arson, her mate, Larceny, and their idiot children, Forgery and Fraud.
Arson lives her life constantly wishing she had opposable thumbs so she could light fires.
What a ride
The absolute mania of naming your pets after felonies.
thrilled to report that that was also me
At least you’re consistent
People don't say the following words often enough:
Cillian Murphy, please step on me.
Thank you kindly,
The Management.
Everybody shut the HECK up and look at this
S H O R K
why do black people use you in the wrong context? such is "you ugly" instead of "you're ugly" I know u guys can differentiate, it's a nuisance
you a bitch
It’s called copula deletion, or zero copula. Many languages and dialects, including Ancient Greek and Russian, delete the copula (the verb to be) when the context is obvious.
So an utterance like “you a bitch” in AAVE is not an example of a misused you, but an example of a sentence that deletes the copular verb (are), which is a perfectly valid thing to do in that dialect, just as deleting an /r/ after a vowel is a perfectly valid thing to do in an upper-class British dialect.
What’s more, it’s been shown that copula deletion occurs in AAVE exactly in those contexts where copula contraction occurs in so-called “Standard American English.” That is, the basic sentence “You are great” can become “You’re great” in SAE and “You great” in AAVE, but “I know who you are” cannot become “I know who you’re” in SAE, and according to reports, neither can you get “I know who you” in AAVE.
In other words, AAVE is a set of grammatical rules just as complex and systematic as SAE, and the widespread belief that it is not is nothing more than yet another manifestation of deeply internalized racism.
This is the most intellectual drag I’ve ever read.
Reblog every time
but mom how will other people know that you, a white Texan, are a Christian
Jesus
I bet those two are couple now..
me too
This is such a great story
update from Houston pride 2019! we’re friends
mlm-wlw solidarity

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can we bring back captcha comics
World Heritage Post
i discovered that my favorite ytp on the planet got taken down... I still think about this scene every day
So, something got me thinking and I had to write it down somewhere.
Watching a docu series about the stone and the bronze age. They just talked about how they buried their dead and one historian was like "the ancient greek said, if you want to know something about a culture check how they treat their dead".
Yeah. How do we treat our dead? We place them neatly in an open coffin, with plastic helpers in their dead body. Just so we living feel better because we seemingly see them at peace before bury them and sending them to the afterlife of their choosing.
Thousands of years ago, they gave their dead items for them to have an easier afterlife. They placed them in a comfy position in the ground, gave them food, weapons, jewelry and what not. Whatever they could afford. So the dead have it easier in the afterlife before we join them.
Something, somewhere went terribly wrong if you ask the ancient greeks. Dont get me wrong, I dont say anything against people who need to see them at peace for a last time. It just got me thinking.
I woke up out of a dead sleep to make this and then immediately passed back out
I raise u
Trainer Alex wants to battle!
I add
please consider
A new challenger enters the stage
how about…
I woke up out of a dead sleep to make this and then immediately passed back out
I raise u
Trainer Alex wants to battle!
I add
please consider
A new challenger enters the stage
how about…

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.
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Asteroid or Potato : Is this asteroid Arrokoth or a potato? Perhaps, after all the data was beamed back to Earth from NASA’s robotic New Horizons spacecraft, the featured high resolution image of asteroid Arrokoth was constructed. Perhaps, alternatively, the featured image is of a potato. Let’s consider some facts. Arrokoth is the most distant asteroid ever visited and a surviving remnant of the early years of our Solar System. A potato is a root vegetable that you can eat. Happy April Fool’s Day from the folks at APOD! Although asteroid Arrokoth may look like a potato, in fact very much like the featured potato, Arrokoth (formerly known as Ultima Thule) is about 200,000 times wider and much harder to eat. via NASA
Everyone start rebloging this and just put Misha. MISHA.
MISHA
MISHA!
MISHA
MISHA,
MISHA
MISHA
MISHA
MISHA