macklin celebrini has autism
RMH
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Show & Tell
taylor price
oozey mess
Claire Keane
tumblr dot com
hello vonnie
Jimmy Eat World
Sweet Seals For You, Always
izzy's playlists!
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
bliss lane
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
The Stonewall Inn
Keni
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seen from United States
seen from Azerbaijan
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from Russia
seen from Argentina
seen from Vietnam
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Nigeria
@ladycashasatiger
British Pattern 1827 Naval Officer’s Sword
A George IV naval officer’s sword by Prosser, Maker to the King, H.R.H. the Lord High Admiral, with curved pipe back blade, length 76.5cm, brass hilt with folding guard retaining most original gilt finish, lion’s head pommel, wire bound sharkskin covered grip.
This beefy pipe-back blade is superior to those typically used for regulation pattern officers’ swords, being wider and thicker and better at cutting.
Susan Hayne Simmons
Robert Fulton, 1813
There were large and important areas of Diana’s mind that were as strange to him as his was to her, but he was quite sure of one thing: her love of high, expensive living was far more theoretical than real. Certainly she hated being pinched and confined; but she hated being commanded even more. She might love careless extravagance, but she would do little or nothing to come by the means of it: certainly nothing against her inclination. She valued nothing so much as independence. Nothing was more valuable to her than her independence.
The Letter of Marque
I love Diana Villiers and no one can stop me.
(via fuckyeahnaturalphilosophy)
“The Soldier’s departure.” by Thomas Rowlandson. 1799.
That letter, I imagine, is quite characteristic of him: It has no fine phrases or deep reflections, but everything is put down just as it comes to his recollection-most of it is like the description of a big football match, written by a boy to his brother. And this natural enough, for in spite of all the peerages and diamond stars, he still kept at 59 the best qualities of his boyhood: and here he is, at the end of his last adventure, standing on the poop of his flagship, with his cheek plastered, and his leg bandaged, and his spectacles broken, and his coat “all cut up by musket balls and by grape,” talking jovially at two in the morning about his nine hrs’ battle-the same quick, masterful, warm-blooded fellow as that long ago midshipman, “young Edward Pellew.”
The Book of the Blue Sea by Sir Henry John Newbolt
is it your intention, Sir Henry, to make me fall in love in Pellew? because you succeeded six stories earlier, now I just can’t handle the words ‘last battle.‘
(via fuckyeahnaturalphilosophy)
Me: “How can I help you today, ma'am?” Client: “Is e-mail internet”? Me: “I beg your pardon?” Client: “Is e-mail on the internet? I have no internet, can I still read my e-mail?” Me: “Well yes, you must be able to get online to view your e-mail.” Client: “Oh, dear. I can’t see my e-mail.” Me: “Well, let’s see. Can you open up Internet Explorer for me and tell me what you see?” Client: “Open what?” Me: “Your browser, can you open up your browser?” Client: “My…my…?” Me: “What you click on when you want to browse the internet?” Client: “I don’t use anything, I just turn my computer on, and it’s there.” Me: “Okay. Do you see the little blue ‘e’ icon on your desktop?” Client: “You mean I have to start writing letters again?” Me: “I’m…what, I’m sorry?” Client: “I don’t have any pens at my desk. I just want my e-mail again.” Me: “No, ma'am, your desktop, on your computer screen. Can you click on the little blue ‘e’ on your computer screen for me?” Client: “Oh, this is too much work. I’m too upset. Just send me my e-mail. Can’t you send me my e-mail?” Me: “We…okay, ma'am. Can you tell me what color the lights are on your router right now?” Client: “My what?” Me: “The little box with green or possibly a couple of red lights on it right now - it’s most likely near your computer?”
Client: “Lights and boxes, boxes and lights, just get my e-mail for me.
Me: “My test is showing that you should be able to get online right now. Can you tell me what you’re seeing on your computer screen?” Client: “It’s been the same thing for the last two hours.” Me: “An error message?” Client: “No, just stars. It’s black and moving stars.” Me: “…Do you see your mouse next to your keyboard?” Client: “Yes.”
Me: “Move it for me.” Client: “Move it?” Me: “Yes. Move it.” Client: “My e-mail!”
This post gave me a fucking ulcer.
😂😂😂😂😂
For EVERY. ONE. OF. US. who deals in the dark arts of customer service.
1813 Merry-Joseph Blondel - Félicité Louise Julie Constance de Durfort
Ppl without ADHD be like “oh if I get rid of all possible distractions then you’ll be forced to focus on the boring task!” Fool… You underestimate my Power
#if you can’t use storebought distractions homemade is fine
Portrait of María del Tránsito de Baeza Besoayn de Melián (1819) by José Gil Castro y Morales (aka Mulato Gil).
+ Details.
Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes (Chile)
Egyptian Room at Villa San Martino, Napoleon’s residence at the Island of Elba
Pierre Girard, c.1856.
mailman: *tries to put mail in my doors mail slot*
me: *shoves my sword through and goes for the knees*
Group portrait of children with dogs (1800s) by Barthélemy-Louis Mendouze.
Via Pinterest.
is selling pickles in movie theaters really just a Texas thing ?? like…. I can’t imagine going to a movie and NOT getting a pickle like… WHAT!!
what the fuck is going on in texas
Marie-Thérèse-Charlotte, Duchesse d’Angoulême
Elie Dignat, c.1820
My kink is not opening messages and pretending theyre not there
little known fact, once you are older & no longer in school, time stops being real. did that thing happen one year ago? two? five? a few months ago? who knows.
And seasons mean nothing
