Product Placement
will byers stan first human second
@theartofmadeline
shark vs the universe
Jules of Nature
ojovivo
Show & Tell
izzy's playlists!
Monterey Bay Aquarium
blake kathryn
JBB: An Artblog!
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Not today Justin
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$LAYYYTER
Cosmic Funnies
art blog(derogatory)
#extradirty
Xuebing Du
JVL
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@ikchen
Manifesting for some intrepid web developer to build a plug-in in 2026 that disables and turns off all AI. Images, “assistants,” summaries, everything, all of it on every site and every app. Let me use my own brain. Let me wander the vast expanse of the desert unmolested by Satan.
2026
1. NO ONE IS COMING TO SAVE YOU.
2. AND YET, THE SUN RISES EACH MORNING.
3. MAYBE THAT IS ENOUGH.
The first time she learned of the ghost was from the realtor. They had been very upfront about it, just like they had made it very clear that it being haunted was the only reason this stately Victorian home was anywhere near her budget. So she had taken it, of course she had. It was a sweet house, a family home. No manor or mansion by any definition of the word, but built before the time that people were concerned with saving space. It was stately, but in disrepair, and most definitely, absolutely, undoubtedly haunted.
It shouldn't really have surprised anyone that he did not move on when he died. He had been the butler of the house when the family had lived there, had become its custodian during their absence, and what was the purpose of a custodian if not to wait with the house for the return of its owners? Except they never returned.
The first time she felt the ghost was when she went to clean the place up. Which is why she came back with a sensible supply of ibuprofen the next time. It was very hard to get anything done with impending migraines stabbing at her temples. The bone chilling cold that seemed to seep from the walls was harder to keep at bay, but she did not hold it against him. If she had been trapped in this place she would be kicking up more fuss than the occasional cold spot. Besides, it was a good incentive to keep busy. It's impossible to be cold while scrubbing a floor. By the time she had gotten around to restoring the fireplaces to their original marble with paint stripper and a scraper, she didn’t even feel chilly anymore.
They might have abandoned the house, but he hadn't. He had kept it tidy, well aired out, and in good repair, decade after decade. Over half a century. What was a century more? It was a good house, a fine house. It did not need “developing”, it did not need these people with grey paint and eggshell paper. They should have left the finials and weathervane in place.
The first time she heard the ghost was while looking for the kitchen door. There were bits and pieces missing of the house, her house. Someone, at some point, must have taken that door off its hinges, in a vain attempt to approach open-plan living. It was nowhere to be found, but she would find it, if only that terrible rattling and wailing would stop. It did stop, once she found the ladder that had dropped down from the attic. The attic the realtor had told her was completely inaccessible. The attic filled with ornaments and antique doorknobs, a battered weathervane, and a panelled kitchen door.
Restore... That was a quaint word. Not at all like “remodel” or “modernise”. There were a lot of words he had never heard before, he had not bothered to listen for a long time. Such a cheerful, appreciative voice.
The first time she saw the ghost was while poring over a sample book, fretting over the few scraps off wallpaper she had found behind a patched-up baseboard. The colours were too faded to make out and she did not want to get it wrong. Victorian reproductions were expensive, and the leaves and the feathers looked so much alike. She had nothing but a corner of paper to go on and she stared and stared and stared, until a hand reached out of nowhere, and turned the page to the maroon one. She barely breathed, she put the scrap of paper on the page, a perfect corner of the pattern, and smiled.
It was a fine house, a beloved house. And people came there again, not to buy and destroy it, to visit. There were people who said they wanted to buy it, people with broad smiles and greedy eyes. But that would not happen now. They were always sent away.
But the first time she met the ghost was on a pale autumn morning, stumbling from the car to the front door with her arms full bolts of damask for the curtains. She had just begun to wonder how she'd reach her keys when the fine oak door swung open, all stately hospitality, and on its doorstep, standing respectfully aside, was the same tall, well groomed man, clad all in black. He bowed and stepped aside, speaking in a hollow voice warmed by respect and satisfaction:
“Welcome home, ma'am.”
The first spark of inspiration for this story was this by Christine McConnell about restoring the wallpaper in her Victorian home:
LOVE💕
I didn’t know fondue was a thing outside USA—stupid but i thought it was like, fake cheese that we would melt to dip tiny weenies in. Looked it up and found out it’s Swiss—so probably more people than I realized enjoy it! I would love to try a fondue of local cheese, but that’s not easy to come by where i live. Enjoy yours!
I'm sorry but I am so morally disoriented by the concept of 'fake cheese' that I have trouble focusing on any other aspect of your message. What is fake cheese?? You say that like it's a perfectly understandable and emotionally neutral combination of words. I feel like I've just been handed a koan.
Then you add the phrase “tiny weenies" like it's the logical next step rather than a new psychological event. From my (very French) perspective the sentence "fake cheese to dip tiny weenies in" sounds like such a unique cultural artefact in itself, like a linguistic diorama to be displayed in a vitrine. This is not meant as a negative judgment of you or your country! just my earnest ethnographic confusion as I try to grapple with the concept of "tiny weenies" from a place of "fake cheese" trauma...
I had no idea fondue was seen this way in the US—I thought we (as a species) had a collective working definition of it, a sort of global consensus like the commutative property of addition, so the idea that in some corners of the world "fondue" means “fake cheese to dip tiny weenies in” has made me remember that you can just flay language off reality like skin. There's also a non-zero chance for this phrase to have activated a sleeper agent in Lausanne and authorised targeted elimination under the Académie Française’s emergency powers.
The concept of fondue now feels violently theoretical but I wish you many delicious ones in the future though :) You have politely disintegrated a couple of foundational concepts I'd never realised I relied on, which is always enriching. I won't recover, but thank you for sending this!
mood
Medieval Miffy by Casey Valentine
apple spider vinegar
The right to wander in the UK is wonderful and very much the opposite of the US, where you’re terrified you’re going to be shot for turning around in someone’s yard. This combined with the nonchalant attitude towards ancient archeological sites is particularly amusing. There are several Neolithic tombs I want to visit that have warnings that are like “This site is behind a gate and can be accessed by walking through a field BUT USE CAUTION, A HIGHLY AGGRESSIVE BULL LIVES ON THE PROPERTY. I repeat, THIS 5,000 YEAR OLD TOMB IS GUARDED BY AN ANGRY BULL. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.” It’s exactly what that little Neolithic community would have wanted…
“DO NOT go to this Neolithic chambered tomb. It is guarded by a highly aggressive horse.” “Like some sort of waterhorse or kelpie? Or the ghost of Llamrei?” “No. A very crabby 19 year old Welsh cob that likes to bite.”
I really like how you drive down a random road and look to the side and notice that a hill has specific carved ramparts on it, which mean that it's an ancient hill fort.
but it's also some farmer's field.
and it's only medium-to-low level interesting. I like that. a hillfort should be lowkey.
We lived in England when I was very little, because my dad was doing a postdoc at Cambridge. We lived in a little village somewhere in the vicinity.
My mom told me that while we were there, the village celebrated its millennium, its thousand-year anniversary.
Except it wasn't the millennium of the village, which was older than that but nobody really knew exactly. It was the millennium of the village church.
And it wasn't technically the millennium of the church, because that had happened three years earlier but nobody had noticed at the time.
And it was strictly local news; nobody outside the village paid any attention.
Like elodieunderglass said: lowkey.
Ocean Glow - Kate Jarvik Birch
American , b. 1977 -
Gouache on paper , 10 x 10 in.
gouache study of beautiful ancient artifacts !
“The Norse Conspiracy Chart”
Aka “a spell to locate people you need to block”.
Like to charge, reblog to cast.
most recent windows 11 update is wiping SSDs
there's been multiple reports of people's computers not booting properly after the windows 11 24H2 KB5063878 update due to it essentially wiping the hard drives (specifically SSDs) on computers and laptops. users have reported their SSDs aren't able to be read/recognized and unable to be seen in bios settings either.
sources: - https://www.windowslatest.com/2025/08/20/microsoft-is-investigating-windows-11-kb5063878-ssd-data-corruption-failure-issue/ - https://www.nichepcgamer.com/archives/windows11-24h2-issue-with-writing-to-the-ssd-is-this-caused-by-kb5063878-kb5062660.html
it's safe to assume all SSDs can be potentially affected by this update, so if you haven't updated yet turn off autoupdates
the bug caused by this update is seemingly triggered by installing/moving/deleting large files (50+ gb), which as simmers is what a lot of us do very pften
if you're unsure what windows version you currently have:
go to settings > system > about (at they very bottom) > and scroll down to see the current OS version
if you do currently have windows 11 24H2:
in settings, click 'Windows update' > 'Update history' > and under 'Quality Updates' check to see if the KB5063878 update is in the list of recently installed updates
don't panic, you can uninstall this update!
while in 'Update History', scroll to the very bottom and click 'Uninstall updates', and click 'Uninstall' for 'Security Update for Microsoft Windows (KB5063878)'
from there, give it some time to remove the update and after pause updates for as long as possible (5 weeks is the longest i think), but it will force an update if there's a big/official update for the fix
if you've already been affected and your computer is not starting or giving errors regarding your hard drive, i recommend visiting small pc repair shops to try data recovery as some have reported placing their SSD in an enclosure seems to work to recover the data
hopefully this is helpful is any kind of way! friendly reminder to back up your data to an external drive routinely!
On 27th August 2015, The Shepherd's Crown, the last book Sir Terry Pratchett completed before he died, was published. To mark the ten year anniversary, we have a message from Rob Wilkins.
If you do finally crack the spine on The Shepherd's Crown, or have done so over the last decade, we'd love to hear from you, see your photos, or hear your tales. As Rob says: enjoy. The Discworld journey is never over.
The term "book of the dead" doesnt really give you perspective to how big a lot of Egyptian funerary texts are.
Imhoteps book of the Dead is 64 feet long.
