I like this meme because the stock photos make it seem like the same woman but 10 years older.
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@couldntthinkofaurl
I like this meme because the stock photos make it seem like the same woman but 10 years older.
Trying to fall asleep in summer is much like the dilemma described in Katy Perry’s hit song Hot N Cold (2008).
Allow me to demonstrate. I am not a visual artist, but I will attempt to communicate my point. If any actual visual artists would like to improve upon this, please feel free.
Well, I can’t sleep for SOME REASON, so here’s more.
@thawinoakenshield
They’re both in their 30s
nothing can break the bond between a friend who loves spoilers and a friend who just watched an amazing show and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish
alternatively: nothing can break the bond between a friend who doesnt read and a friend who just read an amazing book and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish
nothing can break the bond between a friend who cannot and will not watch horror but is still interested and a friend who just watched an amazing horror movie and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish
I was gonna describe Palpatine’s spaces as like the bloody insides of a large beast, but the more I thought about it
…Palpatine’s office is a womb right? Its where Sidious’ perfect apprentice is developed. He’s nurtured in this space by Palpatine until he Anakin leaves it reborn Vader.
Like there’s really so much to say about Palpatine and yonic symbolism.
He’s also almost an anti-mother. With Anakin only knowing a mother’s love, and both of his major conflicts being about saving his mother and the mother of his children, Palpatine is a perversion of both. With Palpatine eventually replacing both Shmi and Padmé. Initially taking a nurturing role throughout his conflict over his mother, and eventually becoming the person Vader is most dedicated to through his conflict over Padmé.
Shmi’s child (Anakin) dies and is reborn Darth Vader. Idk it’s just paired with the raw bloody entrance like outfit we wears. They’re in this red organ like office and Vader is being born through Sidious. Its almost a gory birth scene.
Then there’s like the inverse of Anakin with his mother happening in this scene. With Palpatine arriving on time.
does anyone have that one drawing of a greyhound from like the 1920s or whatever please please please i need it the one where it looks like a single piece of forlorn wire i need it
Is this your boy
The full cartoon (Chicago Tribune, March 22, 1910)
Thank you @zeemczed
been having health issues, in a foul mood, I DEMAND YOU TELL ME A STORY whilst i languish in bed like a sickly victorian lord wasting away from consumption (as my stoic but broad-shouldered valet gently wipes the sweat from my trembling brow)
My Lord, I have a story for you to ponder, and it is one of my best.
Once upon a time, in a kingdom that was not enormously large, nor very small, there lived a sad and lonely princess.
She was not sad because she was lonely, as one might believe, but rather she was lonely because she was sad. All of her ladies in waiting would chitter and pace at her bedside, urging her to rise, to dress in some of her many fancy adornments, and leave her tower to go and dance in the great hall with them, but the princess always declined.
Soon, they stopped asking.
For years, people lost their will to bother her. She was alone in her tower, and as the months passed her loneliness grew until she could do nothing else but stare out of her decorated window and sigh wistfully out it at the common people below.
But dear lord, this is not a sad tale, I promise it.
For in this kingdom there lived a strange and magical creature. Members of this kingdom might not know what it was called, or where he was from, but the magical creature had a name, and his name was Ricodimous.
Ricodimous had a face like a mouse, eyes cunning and dark, and a shell by which he rolled himself into, in case the world got too much, too loud.
One day, Ricodimous was puttering through the market when he heard the most wistful sigh he had ever heard in his entire life. He looked about, questioning, but saw nothing until he rolled back onto his shell and gazed up, up high until he could see a window over the market square, where the saddest and loneliest princess of all sat on her window seat.
"Hello Princess!" He called. And even though the distance between them was great, Ricodimous was a magical creature, and the Princess heard him perfectly.
She gazed down at the wondrous little creature Ricodimous was, and sighed again.
"Hello Ser," she greeted politely. "You should roll along, for I am not of the finest stock for company."
Ricodimous tilted his head.
"You look to me to be the finest stock of anything," he replied. "Why do you believe not?"
The princess simply shrugged.
Ricodimous pondered for a moment. As a magical creature, his guesses on the ailment of princesses were often correct.
"Your heart is aching," he declared. "But you are too shy to say it."
The princess raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You assume much, Ser."
"I assume enough. Pray, would you come down from your tower, and we shall play a game."
The princess could not deny that she had longed to play a game for a time, even if it was with a mouse like creature.
For the first time in years, the Princess dressed herself in her finest silks, and exited her tower with a flourish. Dressed in deep blues and greens, she at last came down to the marketplace and met Ricodimous by the gardens entrance.
The game they played my lord, is one similar to Croquet. I will admit my lord, that this is a game I myself have never played, so you must use your imagination with my storytelling, and simply believe that while you know the rules, so do I.
And so the Princess and Ricodimous played their game, over the course of which the Princess found herself more and more joyous. She indulged in a full commitment of the sport, soiling her finest clothes all so she could kneel in the mud and get a better angle.
Even more scandalously, the Princess was referred to by her royal title less and less, which tends to happen when one is losing a game so terribly he must roll up into his shell and rock back and forth from frustration. So over the day the Princess was called more and more by her name, Ashley, and Ricodimous was simply called Ric.
But the sun was soon to set, and all stories, no matter how brief must end.
At the end of their game there was only one true winner, and Ashley wiped her royal brow and shoot Rics paw, smiling in victory. The magical creature was not disappointed, for he promised to never give up, and that he would return the next day for a rematch.
Princess Ashley was surprised.
"You mean that you'll come back?" She asked, and she realized how excited she was at the prospect.
"Of course I will!" Ric replied. "I would never run around and desert you."
And with that, Ric rolled away.
Considering the possibility of Holmes being related to the Addams Family, probably on Morticia's side for the Frenchness
Primarily based on these images
But also because I want Holmes and Morticia to speak French, and for him to fence with Gomez, and teach the kids about poisons and criminals
(The family all adore Watson and find him absolutely fascinating, of course)
“Here’s a letter for you, old man,” I announced as I sifted through the morning post one grey day in October. “Not a lot else, I’m afraid.”
Holmes folded down the top of the newspaper he was reading so he could see me. “A letter from whom?”
“Not sure.” I turned it over to study it as best I could. The envelope was thick and expensive, postmarked from America. The ink was rich and black, and it smelled unexpectedly floral, with an odd sulphuric note underneath. “Looks to be a woman’s writing, I’d say.”
“If you would.” He held out a pale hand. I passed him the envelope and he neatly sliced it open with his pocket knife. A single page slipped out onto his breakfast plate. He unfolded it with a flick of his wrist, then smiled. “Ah! Morticia.”
“Morticia?”
“Addams. She is my second cousin.”
I was immediately intrigued, for Holmes so rarely talked about his relatives. It had taken several years after our meeting for him to bring up the subject of his elder brother, who lived and worked barely an hour’s walk away. I wasn’t surprised that a second cousin in America had gone unnoted until now.
“Unusual names run in the family, I see.”
Holmes smirked. “Her grandmother was my great-aunt Séraphine, who met and married a quite singular gentleman named Algernon Frump while travelling. They settled over in the States many years ago, and dear Morticia now resides there with her husband.”
“Why does she write you?”
“She is arranging a sort of family reunion on All Hallow’s Eve. Apparently it has been far too long since we have all seen each other.”
“How long is that?”
“Several years at least. It was certainly before you and I met.”
“And will you oblige her?”
“I suppose I will.” He folded the letter and placed it neatly back in its envelope, tucking it into his inside pocket. “You’ve been angling for a holiday, my boy. Would this satisfy you?”
“Wouldn’t it be terribly rude?” I asked, startled. “She has invited you, not me.”
He tutted. “Nonsense, Watson! Morticia knows we live together, of course.”
“How?”
“She will have read your book.”
“Oh! Well that is kind of her. But a family reunion, Holmes, I am not—”
“You are my partner and intimate friend. I assure you there are members of the Addams clan with far more tenuous connections, and many of them also of no blood relation. You will not be out of place, and they will be glad to meet you.”
that is the face of a man worried he will be next
Good news, he was not next! In fact, she accepted him as her mate, he learned the crane mating dance and now every year, he artificially inseminates her with crane semen to expand the very endangered crane population. True story.
Sorry, he WHAT? Imagine being this man's boss and having to sit him down like. Listen. Brian. We need you to fuck the bird. You have to act like you're excited about it.
crane husband.....
this is the diametric opposite of all those awful swan wife stories and i love it.
(WalWaPo makes you jump through like three separate hoops before you can read the article, so I will share some of the highlights:
Walnut was born in a species-recovery breeding program in the 1980′s. The program had crane chicks hand-raised by human volunteers, and at that time they did not fully understand the measures necessary make sure that the chicks do not imprint on humans and retain their identity as cranes.
As a result, her keepers believe, Walnut does not recognize other cranes as members of her own species.
It has not been proven that Walnut killed her previous suitors; however, there is a persistent rumor in the white-naped-crane-conservation community that she did.
Because this species is highly endangered, and the gene pool of the captive population is small, it’s pretty important for the survival of her species that Walnut A) mate, and B) not kill a bunch of other cranes.
The actual name of the keeper is Chris Crowe.
They both arrived at the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute in 2004.
Walnut immediately began paying special attention to Chris--and ignoring the eligible male crane in a nearby enclosure.
Walnut initiated their courtship, performing the opening moves of a mating dance.
Chris realized that if he reciprocated the mating dance, it might be possible to artificially inseminate Walnut with her participation and consent. (The process normally involves restraining the bird.)
It worked!
Chris and Walnut have had five children, who were raised by other crane couples at the facility--sometimes the biological dad and his mate--both because it’s unclear whether Walnut would accept the chicks as her own, and because Chris is not equipped to be a Crane Dad.
However, the Institute provides her with artificial eggs to sit on, and Chris takes his turn looking after them. (This would not work with real eggs because he can’t sit on them properly, but Walnut seems to feel that he is on the job if he just stands over them.)
Chris accepts that he is pretty much married to this bird. White-naped cranes live to be about 60, and they mate for life, so he knows he can’t retire while Walnut is alive. (At the time of the article, Walnut was 36, and Chris 42.)
Legit cannot pick the funniest part of this
she has not been PROVEN to have killed her exes, but there is a PERSISTENT RUMOR (really officers she's simply DEVASTATED, she sobs, wearing a new feather boa unfortunately resembling her most recent deceased husband)
His name is Chris CROWE. (Mrs. Walnut Crane-Crowe?)
the mental images of a whole human man learning and performing the crane mating dance, and "sitting" on artificial eggs so she thinks he's performing his duties as a husband and father (and apparently OBJECTS if he does not?)
"chris, buddy, you gotta marry the possibly-murderous crane lady for the GOOD OF THE SPECIES." (alternately: "chris, my man! good news! we found you a very interested lady! She's 36, she's very spirited and independent, she holds a very important and rare status in her society! ...Is there a downside? WELL...")
chris sits any potential human partners down, like "my love, you must understand before we wed,,, i am already... Attached" (camera drifts wistfully to the above photo) "Lady Walnut and I have an,, Understanding... the relationship is open, but very committed"
just had to explain this post to my father bc he thought my stifled laughter was a signal of illness.
well done, everyone, good game. hit the showers.
Not only is he 'married' to walnut, this has apparently happened SEVERAL times, so he has MULTIPLE crane wives, none of which know about any of his other crane wives. This man is, for some unknown reason, irresistible to cranes
the “this content has been removed for violating Tumblr’s Community Guidelines” notice really adds a lot of flavor to this post and somehow makes it MORE obscene than whatever that actually was
World Heritage Post
I regret being the bearer of bad news, but I thought it should be shared that Walnut passed away in January of this year (2024). There's a lot of mixed info about the lifespan of cranes (due to people misunderstanding what a median is...) but the average for most species I know of is 20-30 years (in the wild if nothing eats them/they don't die young), and 30-45 in captivity, with the oldest known white-naped crane having loved to be 46. Given that she was 42, this old gal did good, and I'm certain she will be missed by folks here.
Fly on forever Walnut Crane-Crowe
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full dishwasher kind of annoying actually. release me
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can we all agree that handwash onlys are attention seeking? you're using the same dish soap as the rest of us but you need a sponge bath because you're too good for a shower
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op some people will die if they're washed with soap at all. unlike certain plastic divas dishes that claim to be "top row only" like that makes a fucking difference.
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can you actually fuck off
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fav thing to hold
fruit
vegetables
keys
candy
soup
something else/not a bowl
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i love being on the top row like you are NOTTT using me for coffee LMAOO
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dusty ass
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all tucked in. in my drawer. with my polycule <3
#and these takeout chopsticks too i guess #ok
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Excited for summer break 😃 Can't wait to see what kinds of mold i'll collect this year
#ForgottenAgain #BackpackGang #LockerGang
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anonymous asked: Why are you whining about how other dishes like to be washed when you're literally covered in spaghetti stains
tupperware answered: what if i killed myself
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WASP IN ME
Took me until about halfway through college before I realized “study” means “play with the material in a variety of ways until you understand it” and not just “read the assigned chapters and do the homework” and I think that probably should have been discussed at some point prior to that.
Okay, this is awful, but it appeals to my weird sense of humor. And it's my tumblr.
Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me.
I know there is a lot of discourse (tm) around this right now but listen to me
sometimes you do just have to lie to children.
If, when my toddler is, you know, toddling around saying “mama? Big ball?”
If I were lean down and say “unfortunately the big beach ball for some reason fills you with such an unadulterated rage that is beyond human comprehension that you scream until you pass out, so mama had to remove the beach ball from the premises until you can better regulate your emotions” she would simply stare at me like I had 3 heads full of equal betrayal.
So, for now, instead “big ball went night night!”
Please understand when I say “removed the ball from the premises” I mean I popped it in a fit of exhausted confusion. I murdered the beach ball.
See I’ve lied to you all too and it was better this way.
you can’t just leave this in the tags etc.
You can’t be funnier then me on my own posts, I’m in tears from laughter
Okay, this made me pause and literally write out every letter that 'fell' in order (‘oomngouuhhrsrtutpntnue’), then make sure they were all contained in 'turntomushuponthergroun'.
They are, and it's very satisfying.
Looks Don't Really Matter Much At The Job (仕事に見た目はあんまり関係ないよねって話 ) by Takaki Tsuyoshi
Leverage (2008) // eliot fighting for his life in the background
every other case Watson is like "can I come along? unless I am nothing but dead weight to you. In which case I brought a hammer for you to beat me to death with." and Holmes always replies something along the lines of "You are my bestest friend and if you came along that would make me the happiest man in the world. Pack your gun." peace and love. also what is wrong with them.