"smart appliances" fuck u i want them dumb as a brick and incidentally as sturdy and enduring
Give me HIMBO appliances. Beautiful. Huge. Hardworking. Nigh indestructible. Stupid as the day is long.
i don't do bad sauce passes
wallacepolsom
will byers stan first human second
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
AnasAbdin
Keni

Product Placement

shark vs the universe
Peter Solarz
🪼
cherry valley forever
Cosimo Galluzzi
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Jules of Nature

blake kathryn

titsay
Monterey Bay Aquarium
we're not kids anymore.
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Italy

seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Jamaica
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@dean-sassyassbutt
"smart appliances" fuck u i want them dumb as a brick and incidentally as sturdy and enduring
Give me HIMBO appliances. Beautiful. Huge. Hardworking. Nigh indestructible. Stupid as the day is long.
Hey students, here’s a pro tip: do not write an email to your prof while you’re seriously sick.
Signed, a person who somehow came up with “dear hello, I am sick and not sure if I’ll be alive to come tomorrow and I’m sorry, best slutantions, [name]”.
I mean, if someone wrote that to me, I’d probably believe they were sick.
“Slutantions” has me crying laughing
i once emailed my professor with a migraine. a mistake.
“I amsick will not to choir because i have a heache. i Hope its very and i am so sorry
love,
blue”
the subject line was “OW”
THE SUBJECT LINE IS THE BEST PART JSJFJSJDJS JUST IMAGINE GETTING AN EMAIL WITH NO CONTEXT OTHER THAN “OW”
As someone who has taught college, please send those emails because 1) We WILL believe that; no one would write that on purpose and 2) we need a laugh sometimes.
On the other side of this, once after getting taken to the ER by ambulance, I got an email from the professor whose class I’d passed out in, and the message had no text, just the subject line “you good?”
Reblogging for the last addition
Claritin makes me weird, but I have allergies so there’s about a month and a half block of time where I’m taking Claritin and am just weird most of the time.
Anyway, my last year of college, I got the flu or something in late March and was also taking Mucinex. I told my professor I couldn’t come to class one day by email except I couldnt think of what to say, so my medicated ass decided to make a Fry meme. I think it said something like “Not sure if I can go to class with a head the size of Texas, bottom text.” I didn’t think until the next day that it probably wasn’t socially-acceptable to tell your philosophy professor you weren’t coming to class via Tumblr style memes. When i got back to class, i found that she’d printed it out and taped it to the classroom bulletin board.
Oh shit you guys i turned on my WinXP laptop that I used to use back then.
IT WAS ON THE DESKTOP. THIS IS WHAT I SENT.
It’s even worse than i remember it
I laugh myself hoarse every time this post comes around, so here it is again.
Once emailed a professor from my hospital bed high on painkillers after a really bad car crash which my heart actually stopped the email “Dead cant class sory”
i was very sick over new years and one day i woke up to find i had emailed my manager in the middle of the night:
she said it was the most beautiful sick email she’s ever gotten
what is time but an endless all consuming miasma of void ,?
I don't think dust needs to exist personally
I really love this website and the people on it a lot
i’ve warmed up significantly towards the concept of small talk ever since i learned that its sole purpose is to make friendly noises.
as long as you smile and nod, people are satisfied. it’s just to show that you are nice and there with good intentions. we’re small in a big world and have to rely on other people to be decent to us. so we do our little human dance to each other to say, “i’m not here to hurt you. here’s something we have in common, like the weather or sports or itchy sweaters, so we both know we’re on the same team. we both agree on a basic fact, like that it is rainy or that being itchy is uncomfortable, and this proves we can get along. i’m being light-hearted and non-threatening right now.”
small talk isn’t to get to know a person. it’s just a greeting to affirm you’re buddies in the universe.
i am motivated by wanting the other person to know i am friendly, so i have gotten pretty decent at small talk when i used to hate it.
Star Wars Episode II - Attack of the Clones
Obi-Wan Kenobi + ⛓️
today’s date is the 3rd? what’s next, the 4th? the 5th? the minor fall, the major lift?
the “bad guys” in hallmark movies end up always being the most respectful men ever.
because they will find out their girlfriend of 3 years (that they were about to propose to) went off to a random farm in minnesota, hours away from were the two of them built a life together, and she decided to just… stay there without even consulting him.
and then he decides to take a trip to make sure she’s okay, because this is generally alarming behavior, and then sees that she literally fell in love with her ex within one (1) week- and he wasn’t there, but you can TELL that they’ve made out a couple times.
and then she just strings him along for a few days, until fucking christmas eve, when she just breaks up with him and is like “i know we used to have the same values, but i’ve never loved you. mark makes me happier than you ever did. and you ONLY care about work, whereas i like christmas and fun, like a Good Person.”
and then, after finding out his entire relationship was a lie and he had his life turned upside down in a week and he got dumped on christmas, this guy’s just like “ok yeah that makes sense. i only wish you the best of happiness with mark. i hope you guys build a great life together in christmastreefarmville. thank you for everything.”
An AU where two Hallmark Christmas Bad Guys are both getting flights back to New York after being dumped by their respective Smalltown Blonde Girlfriends, and they bond over their shared experiences and fall in love in the departures lounge
@teashoesandhair your wish is my command :)
Probably, Levi should be more upset.
Probably he is still in shock. Right? He looks out of his taxi window (it's not technically a taxi, just some guy named Corey who offered him a ride to the airport, because Uber doesn't operate in fucking Tinyville, Bumfuck Middle-Of-Nowhere, Utah) and tracks water droplets racing each other down the glass, because of course it's raining, and his bad knee is killing him.
Levi sniffs and rubs at his eyes and then pulls out his phone and books a ticket back to New York, wincing as four hundred and twenty-six dollars are deducted from his bank account.
And, like, he should definitely be more upset.
He just got broken up with. He was engaged, for God's sake. A four-year relationship… over. Just like that.
Corey says, "Ten minutes to the station."
Gahhhhhh!!!
Tbr later, so awesome
Parkour. Xavier huffed out a quiet laugh, staring at himself in the mirror while he brushed his teeth. The black eye has almost completely faded now, thank fuck. He was tired of looking like a raccoon. All that remained was a fading yellow-green bruise along the bottom of his eye socket, and he’d take that any day over trash panda chic. He rinsed out his mouth and tucked the toothbrush into the cabinet.
Christmas Day. A week ago, he’d sat, freshly punched and bloody, in an airport lounge swapping identically fucked breakup stories with a guy named Levi, and now in precisely 1 hour and 43 minutes he was going to be meeting up with him for brunch. He studiously ignored the mess of clothes piled on the bed as he strode through the apartment, slipping into his overcoat and patting his pockets. Keys. Phone. Wallet. Before he left, he gave Captain a couple scritches between the ears.
It was a ten minute walk to the train, and cold as balls out. Xavier hunched his shoulders against the wind and buried his hands in his pockets, belatedly wondering if he should run back in for his gloves and scarf. Technically, he probably had time. It only took 30 minutes by train - supposedly - to get to the restaurant Levi had texted him. He wavered uncertainly for a few steps, then shook his head and hurried on. If he went back, it was almost guaranteed he’d end up on a train that would get stuck in a tunnel behind a bad signal switch or something, and be horrifyingly late.
He tried not to examine why he so desperately didn’t want to be late.
At the train station, he looked around for a second for a cop, and when none appeared, hopped over the turnstile and made his way to the platform, deep in his own thoughts. It’s not like he’d never had a thing for a guy before. There were a couple drunk one night stands in college, and he'd dated Mark for two and a half years before Mark moved to London and he’d met Chloe. Unbidden, a memory from early in their relationship came to his mind as he boarded the F train and plopped into a seat.
They’d been out to dinner, and in that stage of learning about each other where past relationships came up. Chloe had just exhaustively listed all the things wrong with her ex, Noah, and asked him about his last relationship, and when he’d said Mark’s name, she’d frowned, wrinkling her nose, and changed the subject immediately. He sucked in a breath thinking about it now. How had he forgotten? Had the rose-coloured glasses been that strong?
Like a worst-of montage, he recalled time after time when Chloe had seemed embarrassed or annoyed by reminders that he was bi. Interrupting him or shushing him with their friends (her friends), looking cross if he ever mentioned Mark, mocking and disparaging the oh-so-occasional bisexual character in a movie they watched.
I guess I can at least thank Christmas-Tree-Farm-What’s-His-Fuck for saving me from marrying her, he thought wryly, and only just managed to jump off the train at the right stop. He checked his phone. He still had 45 minutes, and the restaurant was only a couple blocks from the train station.
It’s fine, he argued silently as he huddled against the wind again and hurried his pace. Levi will probably just show up on time, and he’ll never know how early you were. Levi seemed like the ‘showing up exactly on time’ type of guy.
He spotted the restaurant half a block away and picked up his pace a little more, tired of the wind. The heat of the restaurant washed over him as he entered, and he paused just inside the door to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light, unbuttoning his overcoat. The door opened again behind him, and he shifted over out of the way automatically.
“Xavier?”
Xavier turned astonished eyes to the newcomer, now revealed to be Levi, staring at him with a flush creeping up from the apples of his cheeks to his temples. Fuck, that’s cute, he thought involuntarily, and he prayed Levi would blame the cold for the sudden color he could feel in his ears. “Hi Levi.”
Genius repartee, dumbass.
At least it seemed like Levi was having a similar struggle. “You’re early…” he said faintly. “I mean, we’re both early…”
“Table for two?” Xavier silently blessed the girl sitting at the host stand and turned toward her, sliding his coat off and failing to convince himself that his rapid pulse was simply because of the quick walk from the train station.
Levi’s voice strengthened marginally. “I uh… have a reservation, actually.” He slid out of his own coat. “Under Lawrence.”
The familiar bustle of getting seated and ordering drinks seemed to settle both of them a bit. Xavier decided pretty quickly what he wanted to eat, and took the opportunity to watch as Levi pored over the menu, his lip caught absently between his teeth.
Xavier drew a slow breath, feeling a gentle desire creep into his mind. He wanted to reach across the table and cradle Levi’s chin in his hand. He wanted to draw his fingers through Levi’s sandy brown hair, brush it back from his brow.
Levi set aside the menu just as their server returned to the table, and Xavier wrestled his traitorous thoughts under control while Levi gave her his order. He’d only just met the man. They were both very recently, very traumatically single. He had no idea if Levi was even interested in men.
But he had to admit, he conceded inwardly, that he was very interested in Levi.
Just like on the plane, once they broke through the first few minutes of awkwardness, conversation flowed like water. Xavier felt again the warm glow of being with a person who was listening, who wasn’t distracted or disapproving. When he wasn’t frozen with nerves, Levi was intelligent and enthusiastic, and funny. Goddamn, he was funny. By the time they reluctantly gathered up their coats and left the table, Xavier’s cheeks ached from grinning.
They loitered on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Xavier didn’t want to leave. He was caught in Levi’s green eyes, sparkling with humor; in the bashful, lopsided smile he wore. He wanted to keep listening to the clear tenor of his voice. He wanted to gather Levi close into his arms and trace his features with the gentleness he somehow knew that Anika would never have shown him.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” The words escaped his lips before he could haul them back. He saw Levi’s eyes widen, and hurried on. “I think I’ve got some beers in the fridge, and you could meet Captain. I dunno, it just- being alone sucks hard during the holidays, and I thought-”
“Yes.” Levi seemed almost as surprised at his answer as Xavier was. Xavier watched him take a deep breath, eyes locked with Xavier’s for a long moment. “I think I’d like that.”
-
“Careful on the last couple stairs here,” he said as they approached his landing. He reached into his pocket for his keys and stuck the apartment key in the lock. “We keep asking the landlord to fix them, but-”
A sharp gasp and creak on the stairs made him spin around in time to see Levi start to fall backward from taking a rickety step with his bad knee. Before he had time to think, Xavier darted forward and snaked an arm around Levi’s waist, pulling him back up the stairs and into his chest.
Both men froze. Xavier’s heart was pounding in his ears, his arm still tightly wrapped around Levi’s waist. He should let go. He should really let go. But Levi’s hands gripped his biceps, and Levi’s chest was pressed against his, and Levi’s lips were parted ever so slightly, and for a long moment Xavier couldn’t move.
Captain whined impatiently behind the door, and Xavier pulled in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Right,” he murmured, loosening his arm and carefully stepping back. “Come on in.”
Well played Merriam-Webster.
“There is artificial intelligence, and there is actual intelligence” 🎤🫳
Half Goblin, half Hobbit.
Goblit.
God dammit I did this just for a pun but now I’m imagining this whole backstory where a wounded female goblin flees from some battle and winds up on the edges of the Shire and she’s gonna jump some Hobbit dude named Blinko Tumbrush but Blinko’s so unfailingly polite that his first reaction on seeing someone in a rough situation is to invite them in to dinner and gobbo chick is just like “… uh… ‘kay.”
And then she has dinner and it’s the best thing she’s ever eaten and even her little green brain is able to put together “If I knife this guy so I can take his stuff he can’t cook more of this” so when he asks her to stay the night she’s just like “Fuck yeah breakfast”.
And all the other Hobbits in the area are staring at this new arrival who starts begrudgingly working in the garden (she can pull out the weeds they’d normally have to hitch livestock to) and they’re all thinking “Uhhhhh that’s a fucking Goblin there, chief” except if they actually acknowledge that she’s a goblin then it’s a huge to-do and a lot of excitement and possibly there would be adventure involved in chasing her off. So they just sort of silently, collectively decide they’re going to ignore it and all go “Oh, Blinko finally found himself a lady, how nice, she must be one of the Glumbrushes from over the far side of West Farthing, I always did hear they were on the homely side, not much hair on their feet you know.”
And eventually in due time along comes Korbo Tumbrush and decently cute Hobbit baby but the biggest fucking ears you ever saw on a Hobbit and he’s a bit green and everyone is thinking “That’s a fucking half-Goblin you’ve got there, chief, you fucked a fucking Goblin, you made a baby with a damn Goblin my guy” but this would be an immensely rude thing to say to someone so they’re just like “Oh how nice, Blinko, he looks just like you, has those Glumbrush eyes though.”
And Korbo the Goblit grows up a proper little man in his waistcoat and pipe and every so often someone visits from a different part of the shire and sees this plump green dude with massive flappy pointed ears and they start to open their mouth only for a local to leap right in and go “HAHA YES THAT IS KORBO TUMBRUSH A VERY UPRIGHT HOBBIT WE ALL LOVE KORBO HE’S GLUMBRUSH ON HIS MOTHER’S SIDE (WE THINK) THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING!!!” and the visitor just starts nodding along emphatically because this is clearly something that is Not Spoken Of.
I fuckin love it
I. I have to know …
Does Korbo know!? Like is the Gobit aware his momma is a goblin? Or does he just grow up like
“yup us Glumbrushes sure do look different”
He leaves home on an adventure and stumbles n a hoard of goblins marches right up like
“how do ya do fellow hobbits? You know I’m half Glumbrush myself”
Alright, so, Korbo got in a fight once.
Once.
The Tumbrushes are, as a family trade, purveyors of fine pieces of wood. Not of large amounts of lumber, for which Hobbits don’t have a particular lot of call save occasionally, but rather of particularly nice pieces suitable for the making of fine window trimmings, floors, or the occasional carved bit of artwork to be given at a fancy event. Obviously for this one doesn’t go cutting down any tree willy-nilly, and Korbo had spent most of the day out and about looking for suitable trees.
(Korbo also personally assisted in cutting them down, being rather well known as on the strong side for a Hobbit, wink wink, nudge nudge.)
Having put in a genuine hard day’s work and rather pleased with himself, Korbo retired to the local bar to have a few beers and a smoke and to partake in good company, all of whom had gotten so used to pretending there was nothing odd about him that it was almost as if there was genuinely nothing odd about him.
Until along comes Humdil Thumbletoe.
Now the Thumbletoes were what was known in the Shire as “experts on genealogy”. This might sound like quite a good thing when you consider how well-versed most Hobbits are in their family lines, until you consider that most Hobbits are already well-versed in their family lines. A Hobbit being thoroughly knowledgeable of their family tree is not much to be remarked upon, so when it is remarked upon it is more to mean that the Hobbits in question are such tremendous mooches that they have had to dive far more deeply into their bloodlines looking for more relatives to leech off of than any Hobbit would generally consider polite.
Humdil was fairly brawny as Hobbits go, which was about all you could say for him. In fact Humdil had realized that was really all that could be said for him and had become a bit of a bully. And so it was he entered the bar that night with a very put-upon third cousin twice removed (by marriage) and caught sight of Korbo for the first time.
“Why, look at that one!” he bellowed, guffawing. “He’s so ugly his mother had to have been a Goblin, ey!”
The whole bar goes quiet. Aside from the obvious abominable rudeness of this, Humdil has said the thing that is never supposed to be said, and is clearly too stupid to realize he’s right. All heads slowly turn to Korbo.
Now, it is well known that Korbo has inherited his father’s tendency to never give a single solitary hairy-toed fuck about anything. He has currently been in the running to be at least the second most chill dude to ever be born in the Shire. And indeed, right now he’s still looking perfectly calm, puffing on his pipe. He sets the pipe aside, finishes off the last of his beer, and stands up.
“Sir, we’ll be needing to step outside.”
Now Hobbits are mostly a peaceable lot, not given to wars or fighting for any old thing, but a bit of fisticuffs outside the bar is hardly unheard of. Mostly everyone is kind of nervous about this because they’re still not sure how Korbo is reacting to this whole Goblin thing. So someone takes Korbo’s jacket and Humdil’s third cousin twice removed (by marriage) grudgingly takes his, and the two square off.
Now, Humdil was a big Hobbit, it was true, but there were a few things that, being a moron who didn’t realize he was right, and who had never been outside the Shire or seen a Goblin anyway, he could not possibly know.
For one, Goblins have long, spindly arms, giving them a surprisingly good reach for their size… not abominably long, certainly not in the case of a half-Goblin, and certainly not above being concealed by the cut of a well-tailored shirt. Second, they are compact, wiry creatures, with dense muscle over their otherwise lanky forms, and given to that a Hobbit’s already greater mass and the anchoring benefit of large, wide feet, well.
The moment Humdil stepped forward and started to swing, Korbo’s fist shot out like one of Gandalf’s better rockets and struck him directly in the nose. His flight was also, for some weeks after, compared to one of Gandalf’s rockets, though not quite as far and the explosion at the end was mostly him laying on the ground cursing wetly due to all the blood streaming from his nose.
Korbo apologizes profusely to all and sundry for the disturbance, collected his jacket, and goes home. Honey is out picking mushrooms (still being of the more nocturnal persuasion after all these years), but Blinko’s sitting by the fire reading a book. Korbo sees that there’s a newspaper (full of lots of extremely important things like how the pipeweed was growing and which barrels of beer were going to be uncasked that month), so picks it up and sits down to read.
“Evening, Da.”
“Evening, son. Pleasant evening out?”
“Oh, fine. Save for I broke Humdil Thumbletoes’s nose for him.”
“Hm, hm, I see. Why did you feel the need to do that?”
“Well, he called Ma a Goblin, you see.”
Blinko slowly lowers his book, and slowly raises his head. Looks at Korbo for long moments. Raises one eyebrow a little.
“Son. You know full well your mother is a Goblin.”
“Well, yes, but he didn’t know that, and he said it as an insult anyway so it being true or not doesn’t really matter that much, does it?“
“Hm, hm. I suppose that’s true at the end of the day, isn’t it?”
Blinko goes back to reading his book. Korbo continues reading the paper.
“You could have stabbed him,” Blinko eventually notes.
“Aye, could have stabbed him,” Korbo agrees easily enough. “But it’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”
“True, true, probably would have been a bit of a mess in the road, not very thoughtful to the community,” Blinko allows.
And that was the end of it.
I love all of this so much. Also-
“Sir, we’ll be needing to step outside.”
The power. I set down my drink after that one.
Oddly enough, one might expect Korbo to have trouble finding a lady hobbit. He’s not given to being as plump as his fellows, and his feet are a bit small, and he’s rather, well, tall for a hobbit, isn’t he. And green. Always looks a bit like he’s eaten something that didn’t agree with him.
But he runs into Hilda Greebrook one day in town, and she’s lost her favorite pipe, which is of course a tragedy of the highest order. It’s not unheard of for a lady to smoke, but it isn’t particularly encouraged, either, and so the general reaction is “you poor dear, perhaps it’ll turn up, hadn’t you best be getting home for luncheon?”
Korbo, however, stops to help her look for the pipe, and when it’s nowhere to be found he offers to make her another just like it, if she can tell him what precisely made it so special that it was a favorite, for after all a favorite must be distinguishable by something.
Unfortunately the thing that distinguishes it is that she got it from Gandalf and it’s quite unlike most pipes in the Shire, so recreating it is quite the task. But Korbo sets himself to it anyway, working a bit each night and handing it to Hilda daily to see if it feels quite right, and six months later he’s done it—recreated a pipe that came from the world of men, or perhaps elves, but certainly not that of hobbits.
Hilda for her part discovers Korbo quite likes to read, and though he’s from a reasonably well-to-do family—for hobbits are always in need of new toys and fancy party decorations after all—can’t get his hands on books fast enough to satisfy himself, and, well, her da’s a transcriber, someone’s got to write out the papers after all, and she’s got access to practically every book in the Shire, and ways to make copies besides.
At first people think it’s odd, a hobbit who can’t see asking to borrow books, but then they find out Korbo is involved and asking questions could lead to excitement and so they absolutely do not ask and simply offer up their histories and books of poetry and hobbit folklore (for even without want for excitement there are things it’s good to remember, and things every hobbit child should know so they, too, can grow up properly plump and staying well away from adventure), and resign themselves to never seeing their books again.
And then they find that far from their books quite disappearing, they return in fine form—albeit usually in a timeframe rather too long to be polite—but oddly quite a lot seem to have tiny bits of wood shavings in, although one wouldn’t expect it in a hobbit home? And THEN Hoptus Redbranch finds Korbo one day in his workshop, he’s just stopped by for the wood to repair a door after an unfortunate incident with attempting to remove a colony of bees and rather too much smoke for the moving of bees, and Korbo is simply. Pressing small pieces of hot iron into a very thin piece of wood, making small triangle patterns like no hobbit decoration Hoptus has ever seen, and he’s quite frequently checking into a book on his left that turns out to be one of Hoptus’ own books, and very carefully turning the pages with a cloth so as to not get oil from the hot iron all over the pages—
—and THEN, not long after the news of Korbo’s strange woodburning activities have spread across most of the Shire (and caused no small amount of consternation, because goblins are clever but so often the things they make are cruel and the cause of ever so much unpleasantness), Hilda is seen in her own garden with Korbo with a stack of these thin pieces of wood all carefully hinged together, running her fingers over carefully sanded and varnished pieces and feeling the triangles and reciting a hobbit tale.
For all those months of strangely disappeared books, Korbo has been translating Westron into an alphabet that can be read with one’s fingers, and making Hilda books, and teaching her to read them.
Nobody is entirely surprised, after about three years, when the two of them vanish for a few months, and come back quite married.
Within a few generations, this is absolutely going to be a thing Not Worth Remarking Upon. So when a young hobbit finds themselves accidentally ripping the knobs off doors when they’re cross, their parents will sigh and the elder hobbits in the village will remark that ‘that’ll be the Glumbrush in ‘im coming through, I told you his ears were a little bigger than his siblings, didn’t I?’ much the same as they always did on Bilbo and Frodo’s Took relations and the resulting hankering for adventure.
Were anyone from the outside to visit the Shire, they’d find a small colony of goblins thoroughly intermarried and also avoiding the usual goblin tendencies towards stabbing, so long as no one is so gauche as to insult them for being goblins.
(Sooner or later, one very flustered hobbit is going to accidentally do the same thing with an orc.)
The Tumbrushes, as with all Hobbits, were quite proud of their work, and rightly so. Their works are fine, of the highest quality, and they fetch the appropriate price for their labors, making them quite well-to-do. In the Shire, wealth breeds respect, of course, and so the Tumbrushes are quite well respected.
And yet there’s a difference between “well to do” and “scandalously wealthy.”
So when, when Blinko Tumbrush recieved a letter inviting them to the Baggins residence for tea, he of course brought his wife and son along.
Now, Korbo had crossed paths with Bilbo Baggins a time or two in the market, never for much longer than the time required for Polite Conversation, and so wasn’t expecting much. Sure, everyone knew Bilbo was odd, and were willing to talk about it, since Bilbo made no effort to hide his adventures and had, on numerous occasions, commented on visiting the elves or poking around the mountains, but they were in the Shire, no adventure in sight, and so this should be a normal, proper visit between client and craftsman.
And then Bilbo opened the door, pipe in hand, took the three of them in, and said, quite out of nowhere, “Ah, Shoebiter clan.”
Honey Tumbrush, late of the Shoebiter clan of the Misty Mountains, smiled with all her teeth and replied “Dragon thief!”
Bilbo guffawed and waved them inside, offering them hospitality in the goblin tongue, with the guarantee of safety and threat of violence that implied. They had arrived in time for second breakfast, and didn’t leave until past dinner, having hammered out a contract and shared many a story.
Blinko Tumbrush had only one thing to say as he walked home, arm in arm with his wife and son trailing behind. “He’s an odd fellow, that Bilbo, but nice enough. Yes, nice enough indeed.”
I love them
Gets better and better every time I see it
What was removed?! Which guidelines did it violate? This post was complete last time I saw it.
Here’s my art that apparently was too much for tumblr!
I’d probably have rebageled anyway, but because of the Tumblr content removal, I *HAD* to…
I want this to be a short film, WITH NARRATION
shout out to green. somehow an underrated color despite being everywhere in nature. not enough real green appreciators out there. what can’t she do honestly. mint green sage green sea foam green forest green lime green!!! never have i ever met a green i did not like. true green enjoyers understand.
I think Odysseus is the guy everyone else makes talk to the cops when they show up to bust the party.
I think he could do a really good “Hello officer, how are you?” if he had to.
YEAH EXACTLY
Athena is standing behind him whispering the bylaws into his ear.
hold on i need to look this up
it’s been 15 minutes have you finished reading the Odyssey yet?
“you should be at the club” Brother I should literally be sent to the seaside for my health
WHICH ONE OF YOU SPENT ACTUAL AMERICAN MONEY ON THIS
peeing?
Not rn but I'll keep you guys updated
Peeing
“ (character a) didn’t know what to say ”
It’s me. I’m character a trying to cover up the fact that I have no idea what they would say
an under-discussed feature of chronic illness + pain is how fucking boring it is. Like I know that I will get better and stop hurting if I lie down with my eyes closed in a quiet dark room but holy fucking shit if I do that for five more minutes today I’m going to totally lose my marbles.
Girl you need to get out of bed faster than this
I'm giving it all she's got boss