daily affirmations
i am the unkillable faggot
i can exist in grocery stores
i have the shittiest music taste in any room
i have a gun
cherry valley forever
Keni
Show & Tell
Monterey Bay Aquarium
occasionally subtle
Acquired Stardust
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Andulka
Peter Solarz

No title available
Stranger Things
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
AnasAbdin
taylor price
trying on a metaphor

Janaina Medeiros

shark vs the universe
hello vonnie
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from Australia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Finland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Latvia

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
@barf-day
daily affirmations
i am the unkillable faggot
i can exist in grocery stores
i have the shittiest music taste in any room
i have a gun
crochet tapestry of a panel from alison bechdel's fun home (made by me!, 2025)
happy pride month everyone!!
look at this wonderful gif of scallops getting scared and scattering like a flock pigeons
whatever. go my scallops
last night I had the experience of "referencing a tumblr post that you think is widely known but turns out to not be as widely known as you thought it was" last night and it was this post. whatever. go my scallops
finally some relatable content on ig
what is this? should I throw it out?
Fish-shaped interlocking paving stones.
shout out to the old guy who orders egg wraps from my job every day and came in on christmas with a $25 gift card for the two transfems on staff and no one else. the one true ally.
Old Men when that egg wrap hits:
2500-Year-Old Italian Necropolis Reveals Children Buried With Warrior Belts
Unusual burials of children with bronze warrior belts have been discovered in a necropolis near the town of Pontecagnano Faiano, outside Salerno in southwestern Italy.
The burials date to the 4th and 3rd centuries BC, when the Samnite people occupied this part of what is now the Campania region of Italy. Located a few miles from the coast along ancient routes connecting the Tyrrhenian Sea to the Apennines, the settlement that would become Pontecagnano was established in the 9th century BC.
Plans for urban development in Pontecagnano Faiano prompted a programme of preventive archaeological excavation. The site, formerly occupied by a tobacco factory, lies within the southern necropolis of the ancient town.
Excavations uncovered 34 burials in total, 15 of which belonged to children aged between two and ten years at the time of death. The graves are arranged in clusters, likely reflecting family groups.
Most of the burials consisted of simple earthen pits covered with roof tiles set against one another in a pitched formation. Only three graves differed from this pattern: stone box tombs constructed from large blocks—two made of travertine and one of tufa. These materials were costly and suggest that the individuals buried in them belonged to wealthier families or held a higher social status.
The graves were furnished with typical Samnite grave goods, including spears and javelins in male burials and rings and fibulae in female burials. Pottery vessels were also common, consisting of small sets used for funerary offerings and ritual banquets, as well as containers for perfumes and ointments used in burial ceremonies.
The bronze belts—usually found in the graves of adult men—were particularly unusual. They appeared only in the graves of two children aged between five and ten. These were not ordinary belts but broad, decorated bronze bands used to secure the tunic worn by adult men. They were unmistakable symbols of warrior identity and social status.
Archaeologists suggest that the belts may have been placed in the children’s graves to symbolise a warrior lineage passed down to the next generation even after death—a symbolic rite of passage into adulthood that could not be achieved in life. Another possibility is that the belts served a protective role, signalling the child’s membership in a noble warrior family to the feared denizens of the underworld.
By Mark Milligan.
length of a weasel…… face of a weasel…. heart? also of a weasel
Please please tell me this is a real cat and not an art doll
I think it’s real, but I’m not really sure
No IDs, but these tags got me in a huff:
So ok look. The point is not the flared leg by itself. These cannot be yoga pants. These are, and you have to understand this if you are too young to have worn them, BLUE JEANS. And this was the last years before all jeans were 70% spandex.
They were denim, and they weren't bell bottoms. They hung loose from the knee in a way that would make a wizard envious. We all walked around like we were wearing hakama. And they dragged on the ground. That was important. Ragged cuffs. If your jeans weren't so long that they had ratty cuffs, they were embarrassingly short.
And the thing about denim is that it's a twill weave and it's cotton. So not only does it hold a lot of water, it wicks. Walking around in these suckers on a wet day could get you wet to the knees even if you never stepped in a puddle.
Then you'd go inside and take off your shoes and try to avoid letting your freezing, wet, filthy pant legs touch your skin.
Yoga pants. Hmf.
people in cold climates would have a tide line of white marks around their knees (if they were normal height) in the winter.
From wicking up road salt.
The visceral memory of that time is something that never leaves you. Everyone's jeans were many inches higher in the back than the front because you kept stepping on the hem and ripping it off. Your lower legs were so very cold. Every new pair of jeans literally enveloped your entire foot, they were so so long re: leg-to-waist ratio. Walking on a rainy day was a legitimate workout. You have no idea.
This counts as vent art.
When my mother forgets a word, she is the queen of coming up with new words. Words that would take a third National Treasure movie to fully decipher. I was talking to her yesterday, and she said this: “You know the time for los jibbities is coming up. You must be so excited!” Oh, is it time for los jibbities already? I must have missed it on my calendar. Are we celebrating something? “Of course! We should all be celebrating, shouldn’t we?” OK, so los jibbities is a happy thing. It’s not like something is giving you the heebie-jeebies, which would have been my one and only guess. “Los heebie-jeebies? Now you’re making things up...and this is my show.” You’re right. The time for los jibbities is coming up. Is this a season? “Yes, the season for love. The season for pride.” OK, los jibbities. “Yeah, sound it out.” Los…jibbities. LGBTs! “Sí, mira cuz you’re gay!” “You couldn’t just say pride season? You couldn’t just… *laughs*
HAPPY LOS JIBBITIES EVERYBODY!!!
The time for Los Jibbities has arrived!
LMFAO
It’s Pride Month Eve, so leave out some milk for Freddie Mercury and his cats.