this one is for texas

roma★
Not today Justin
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@theartofmadeline
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
cherry valley forever
Today's Document

Origami Around
trying on a metaphor
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
dirt enthusiast
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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No title available

#extradirty
Mike Driver
KIROKAZE

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
seen from United States

seen from Tunisia
seen from United States
seen from Oman

seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

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@jasminedcole
this one is for texas
I bet octopuses think bones are horrific. I bet all their cosmic horror stories involve rigid-limbs and hinged joints.
To an octopus, a human is like a thinking being with blood-stained coral growing inside it.
I need to sit down and breathe into a bag for a while.
Its parts were obscenely limited in their movement. Each hinge could open or close only a small amount before reaching its limit, yet by working in concert they demonstrated unexpected dexterity, moving and manipulating the objects before it with cunning equal to my own. It was more torso than limb, as though a seal had been stretched and warped, given long grasping tentacles filled with bones like bars of coral. It’s head was most horrid of all, flat and ovoid, jutting out too small from the trunk as though it belonged to a beast half its size.
The thing rose upon its lowermost appendages, two long trunks that ended in flat, protruding flippers that branched into stubby, grasping mockeries of a sucker. It’s triple-hinged uppermost limbs were similar, but the ends branched into five smaller tentacles, each with three hinges of their own.
I froze, as the thing’s gaze fell upon me and it opened its hideous fish-jaw, filled with thick, many-shaped teeth like white shards of stone, and spoke in a shrill, discordant babble. I felt its horrid dry grip on my flesh, as those hinged appendages closed on me like the legs of a crab.
I felt the heat of its body, tasted its noxious, oily flesh through my touch, and prepared for the end, and all went black as a swoon overtook me.
I awoke, some time later, the cold and comforting water, banished back to the comfort of the sea and the dark. I should be grateful I am alive. I should cast aside the experience like a half-remembered dream.
I shall never again go swimming in search of lights above. The last thing I recall before the darkness took me was my right eye popping free of the thing’s grasp enough to see into the distance for one brief moment.
I saw thousands of lights.
ok so it turns out “horror but it’s about something mundane from the perspective of a non-human animal” fucks severely
Did you know that between 1939 and 1941 the NYC Tax Administration and the Works Progress Administration collaborated to take photographs of nearly every building in all 5 boroughs of New York City? And that you can see these photos today thanks to NYC Municipal archiving? This is, obviously, amazing for hundreds of reasons. For the purposes of this post, it's fantastic because this is a very real address:
And when I put that address into the photo locator map, I get this:
Going from there, we can walk around the surrounding blocks via photographs. And if we assume that Steve and Bucky's pre-war apartment was fairly close to the Barnes', then these photos from 1939 to 1941 are a historically accurate trip to their neighborhood.
So, let's explore some pre-war Brooklyn. For your fic inspiration needs, your feelings, the general Stucky vibes, or just because:
reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something
Who will come to rescue? Frostiron fans, I need you all!
Twitter <<< Tony must win!
For those of you who want to lock all of your works with all the silly AI scraping of AO3 (which AO3 is recommending you lock your works, as stated in this post)
Here is a quick and easy guide of how to edit ALL of your works at once.
From your Dashboard click on “edit works” on the far right. This will bring up all of your works that you can select.
Select all the works you want to edit, then hit “Edit” at the bottom right.
Scroll to nearly the bottom of the page where you find “Visibility” and select “only show to registered users” and then update at the bottom.
That’s it, all of your works have now been locked without having to go in and edit each fic individually.
I hope this helps!
HAPPY FUCK OR DIE FRIDAY
Oh my gods yes please
calling all authors!!
i have just stumbled upon the most beautiful public document i have ever laid eyes on. this also goes for anyone whose pastimes include any sort of character creation. may i present, the HOLY GRAIL:
https://www.fbiic.gov/public/2008/nov/Naming_practice_guide_UK_2006.pdf
this wonderful 88-page piece has step by step breakdowns of how names work in different cultures! i needed to know how to name a Muslim character, it has already helped me SO MUCH and i’ve known about it for all of 15 minutes!! i am thoroughly amazed and i just needed to share with you guys
. ▼Fill 1 - Time Travel Where Loki finds a very confused Midgardian in the queen’s gardens. ▼Fill 2 - Illusions Where Loki realizes that il
- Nichelle Nichols
HERE’S THE THING THOUGH
I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click
And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”
So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is
“No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.”
I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:
“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security.”
I accidentally called the director of the FBI.
My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.
This is my new favourite story.
When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.
There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.
The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.
During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”
So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound.
I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.
So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…
“Uh… Is Shantavia there?”
It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.
There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.
The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.
Every time I try to find this story, I end up having to search google with a variety of terms that I’m sure have gotten me flagged by some watchlist, so I’m reblogging it again where I swear I’ve reblogged it before.
But none of these stories even come close to the best one of them all; a wrong number is how the NORAD Santa Tracker got started.
Seriously, this is legit.
In December 1955, Sears decided to run a Santa hotline. Here’s the ad they posted.
Only problem is, they misprinted the number. And the number they printed? It went straight through to fucking NORAD. This was in the middle of the Cold War, when early warning radar was the only thing keeping nuclear annihilation at bay. NORAD was the front line.
And it wasn’t just any number at NORAD. Oh no no no.
Terri remembers her dad had two phones on his desk, including a red one. “Only a four-star general at the Pentagon and my dad had the number,” she says.
“This was the ‘50s, this was the Cold War, and he would have been the first one to know if there was an attack on the United States,” Rick says.
The red phone rang one day in December 1955, and Shoup answered it, Pam says. “And then there was a small voice that just asked, ‘Is this Santa Claus?’ ”
His children remember Shoup as straight-laced and disciplined, and he was annoyed and upset by the call and thought it was a joke — but then, Terri says, the little voice started crying.
“And Dad realized that it wasn’t a joke,” her sister says. “So he talked to him, ho-ho-ho’d and asked if he had been a good boy and, ‘May I talk to your mother?’ And the mother got on and said, ‘You haven’t seen the paper yet? There’s a phone number to call Santa. It’s in the Sears ad.’ Dad looked it up, and there it was, his red phone number. And they had children calling one after another, so he put a couple of airmen on the phones to act like Santa Claus.”
“It got to be a big joke at the command center. You know, ‘The old man’s really flipped his lid this time. We’re answering Santa calls,’ ” Terri says.
And then, it got better.
“The airmen had this big glass board with the United States on it and Canada, and when airplanes would come in they would track them,” Pam says.
“And Christmas Eve of 1955, when Dad walked in, there was a drawing of a sleigh with eight reindeer coming over the North Pole,” Rick says.
“Dad said, ‘What is that?’ They say, ‘Colonel, we’re sorry. We were just making a joke. Do you want us to take that down?’ Dad looked at it for a while, and next thing you know, Dad had called the radio station and had said, ‘This is the commander at the Combat Alert Center, and we have an unidentified flying object. Why, it looks like a sleigh.’ Well, the radio stations would call him like every hour and say, ‘Where’s Santa now?’ ” Terri says.
For real.
“And later in life he got letters from all over the world, people saying, ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ for having, you know, this sense of humor. And in his 90s, he would carry those letters around with him in a briefcase that had a lock on it like it was top-secret information,” she says. “You know, he was an important guy, but this is the thing he’s known for.”
“Yeah,” Rick [his son] says, “it’s probably the thing he was proudest of, too.”
So yeah. I think that might be the best wrong number of all time.
Source: http://www.npr.org/2014/12/19/371647099/norads-santa-tracker-began-with-a-typo-and-a-good-sport
No okay THAT is adorable and I’m queueing this for next December.
If I don’t reblog this without the threat of tuning my eyeliner… I’m dead and I want to be buried with a cherry tree over me.
HOLY SHIT, IT WAS THE ORIGINAL ONE
MAKE A WISH
the first post ever on tumblr
I WAS EXPECTING IT TO BE A REMAKE OF SOME SORT HOLY FUCK
WHO THE FUCK KEEPS BRINGING THIS BACK
World Heritage Post
like actually though. i’m in AWE of the notecount.
ITS HERE I SEE IT HOLY CUNGADERO I AM HONORED
YESSSSSS IT IS OUR SAVIOR
Just reblog because I’m sure theres a rule or something. I mean there is a rule right?
This is the only tiktok you’ll ever need, I’ve made about 13 of these and I’m not stopping anytime soon
I’m reblogging again because I did it myself and added pictures for those who have trouble learning from the video.
First take a standard rectangular piece of paper (I used one from a small notebook which I ripped out then cut the holes off)
Then fold in half touching the shorter side to the opposite shorter side.
Fold again making the new shorter side touch the other new shorter side
I did this one more time, but this time I unfolded it right after to get back to where it was only folded twice. It should have left a crease in the paper.
Using this crease, fold the corners up alongside it to look like this
This are also going to be unfolded, but this time you’re going to push in alongside the triangular folds you just made and undid.
Doing this once will result in this
Hold tight because tumblr won’t let me add more pictures. I’ll reblog will the rest of the instructions
Continuing on,
Do the other side of you haven’t already to get this
You’ll open these newly created flap to change which parts are touching
Leaving you with this
Then you start pulling the top “tabs” down
Do both sides to get the final folded form
Decorate as desired.
Hope this helps!
Ratio for the rectangle size is 2:3
So 6 cm by 9cm
I uh, lost an evening:
Thanatos knows that I hecking love cute origami, and moths, so really, what was I supposed to do, scroll past and not take the opportunity to make butterfly and moth page markers???
Hey did you know I keep a google drive folder with linguistics and language books that I try to update regularly
**UPDATE**
I have restructured the folders to make them easier to use and managed to add almost all languages requested and then some
Please let me know any further suggestions
….holy shit. You found the holy grail.
….. is this a DIFFERENT person keeping gigabytes worth of language books on google drive? Holy crap.
This. This here. Is why I love Tumblr.❤️❤️❤️
James T. Kirk:
-Graduated in the top 4% of his year -was bullied by jocks -Is a history nerd -was so much of a teacher’s pet that he cheated on an exam and was commended for it -Was referred to as “a stack of books with legs”
Jean-Luc Picard:
-Spent all his free time drinking in pubs and playing billiards -broke more hearts than he can remember -started a bar fight that ended up in him being stabbed in the heart -likes to explore dangerous ruins of ancient civilizations for fun -wouldn’t even have become a starship captain if he wasn’t this much of a hothead
And yet people still manage to get it backwards???
I think it’s a problem of First Officer, really.
Jim Kirk seems like a wild man because he’s standing next to calm, logical Spock.*
Meanwhile, Picard seems stately and dignified because he’s standing next to Will “Any alien physiology is bangable if you just put some thought into it” Riker*.
* Of course THEN, we get to the next layer, which is that Spock is the dude who told the Vulcan Science Academy to fuck itself, while Riker plays the trombone.
The Federation is a confusing place.
It’s definitely also a casting thing, to be fair. Shatner got a SCRIPT that said “play a giant gay nerd” but he played him like a jock fuckboy, and Stewart’s script said “play a jock fuckboy” and he played him like a giant gay nerd. Both of these were inspired decisions and I love them for making them.
It’s age, too. We see Picard after he’s grown out of his nonsense. In the first episode, he has a talk with Riker like, “Hey, just so you know? I hired you because you got written up for calling out your last captain when he was being a dumbass. I consider calling me out when I’m being a dumbass to be an important part of your job.”
Meanwhile, Kirk is young and apparently hot (if you’re into that sort of thing) and all the alien ladies, through no fault of his own, want to bang him 100% of the time–this isn’t a thing he does on purpose and indeed is something he’s often horrified and baffled by.
I personally like that every Starfleet Officer ever seen has ‘Shenanigans’ as one layer of their personality, all that varies is how far down it is and what prompts it.
Well, Star Trek is canonically a society where you don’t have to work as a Federation citizen. (They are post cash, or something.) No one *has to* go into space for dangerous adventures. All those people have self-selected in StarFleet. It obv requires a certain level of shenanigans in your psych makeup.
Yeah, people just forget that a lot. Nobody has to do work in the Federation to live, and in fact, by TNG era, the holodeck has been invented, so you could just spend your time in there if you don’t feel like your life is fulfilling. People in Starfleet are the kind of people who want to go out there and explore in the real world. The people for whom it’s not enough to be in fake danger, that they need to feel real danger. So by necessity that’s, uh, going to give you people who are a little daring and out there.
older lotr illustrations sometimes depict éowyn wearing ridiculously small armour. apart from the problem general sexualisation of the only female character (who really does anything), there’s another hilarious thought:
éowyn pretended to be dernhelm, a man. to fit in, she must have worn men’s armor. so the armor in the illustrations is normal for rohirrim.
therefore, all the rohirrim rode to war just like that:
there’s a thundering sound in the distance as the rohirrim ride into war but rather than hoofbeats it’s the collective sound of all their cheeks clapping
the artist for this particular piece is Frank Frazetta and to be fair to him this is how he drew the orcs armor
so the rohirrim comment is probably not that far off
That’s a man who just straight up had a problem with the concept of wearing pants into battle, and I respect that
male or female
hero or villain
sea or land
even in the snow
I guarantee you Frazetta’s Rohirrim were 100% pants-free
Good Old Frank. That man loved bodies and hated clothes so much
Frank Frazetta was the reason He-Man was designed like that; the producers conduct a study to see what art appeal the most to children, and Frank’s work came out on top in popularity. So everyone in He-Man is dressed the way they are directly because of Frazetta.
That man gave us the gift of warrior thighs and tits for everyone.
Frazetta is the reason we were gifted with the Winter Soldier’s murder thigh strut. Thank you Frank.
MOTHER OF GOD
ARE YOU FUCKIN
OH GOD ITS BACK
DEAR GOD THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TUMBLR POSTS IN EXISTENCE.
YOU THINK JUST THE NOISE IS FUNNY AND FITS WITH THE GIF REALLY WELL
BUT THEN
THEN
THE LYRICS START
seriously i have almost crashed my car into a telephone pole, becuase I suddenly thought of this post and started laughing uncontrollably