No title available
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tannertan36
trying on a metaphor
roma★
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Today's Document
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
if i look back, i am lost
★
todays bird
Jules of Nature
⁂
ellievsbear
Sade Olutola
izzy's playlists!
wallacepolsom
Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.
cherry valley forever
seen from Lithuania
seen from Romania
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Romania
seen from T1
seen from Kenya
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Malaysia
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Brazil
@natbass4evr
I completely missed the joke about him being the Rock, I just thought Medusa wouldn’t be able to turn him to stone because he’s too pure and good
i’m a complete and utter dumbass who got dwayne johnson and john cena mixed up so i thought the joke was that medusa can’t see him
Imagine if the garbage celebs who made that “Imagine” song cover had put half as much effort into their singing as these pro stunt artists put into their own quarantine content: a fight scene performed by over a dozen stunt artists, remotely.
i laughed so hard when the guy swung the kid lmfao
I’m still straight up DYING over that ngl
jonas brothers on the radio… people watching fruits basket… it’s really 2009 again huh
hey guys i’m so sorry
When I was a kid, my mom was a judge and my dad was starting his solo practice, and they both worked full time. There were four of us kids between the ages of one and seven (the Just Us League) and no decent daycares nearby, so they hired a nanny. She had three almost-adult children, and on days when she couldn’t work, one of her kids would substitute. The oldest kid was named Bob, age 18, and he had just finished army basic training when this all went down. Bob did not have the good sense god gave a rock.
I have an older brother, Jake, who was seven; then me, Hellen, age five, then Seth, age three, and my little sister Gin would have been one. It was late August, and we were at our nanny’s house, though she was gone for the day. Bob was in charge.
Bob should probably not have been in charge.
Bob tried keeping us entertained with board games and tag and movies. Gin took a nap. Eventually he decided to get creative, and sat us down in the living room with a game and vanished into the garage. There was a smashing sound. And then some saw noises. And then some hammering. And then we saw him going around the house to the back yard through the windows, though we were too short to see what he was doing. And finally, he yelled to us to come out into the driveway.
Jake and Seth and I trooped out. Bob had both hands behind his back. He stepped up to Jake and revealed what he had in his right hand.
It was a wooden sword. It was clearly made from what appeared to be parts of a chair’s legs, cut down and nailed together. He presented this, and announced, “You are Sir Jake, the strongest knight!”
He stepped up to Seth and presented what was in his left hand. It was another wooden sword, smaller than the first, also crudely made out of chair legs. He announced, “You are Sir Seth, the bravest knight!”
At this point, I was practically vibrating in place, waiting eagerly for my sword so I could use it to whale on my brothers, as god intended me to do. I was therefore understandably disappointed to be presented with the business end of a garden hose and told, “You are Miss Hellen, the Water Fairy!”
“No,” I said. “I want a sword.”
Bob was confused. “But you get water magic! Magic’s great!”
“No.” I repeated, holding the hose. It had a spray nozzle set to jet. “I want a sword.”
“Magic’s great. Magic’s better than a sword.” Bob insisted. “You’ll see. Wait here a moment.”
And then Bob ran around the side of house and vanished.
We stood in the driveway. Jake and Seth poked each other with their swords. I spritzed them idly with the hose, trying to decide which of them would be easier to steal a sword from.
And then we heard a quiet wooshing noise, and smelled smoke.
We turned. As we watched, a line of fire rushed around the corner of the house, consuming a path of gasoline poured into the dry August grass.
We paused and considered this for a few moments. I raised the hose and sprayed a jet of water at the fire. It went out. We glanced at each other. Then we took off running, following the trail of fire, spraying as we went.
The fire led in a path around the house to the back yard. As we turned the corner, we saw Bob, clad in a bathrobe and holding a curtain rod, standing in the center of a large ring of burning grass. He cackled manically. “I am the FIRE WIZARD! Your puny swords are useless! Nothing but water magic can defeat me!”
I promptly blasted him with the hose. He spluttered. The fire did not go out.
I turned the hose on the fire itself, spraying a section close to us so that it would extinguish. As soon as there was enough room, Jake charged forward, brandishing his chair leg sword with a battle cry. Seth, always happy to be included, followed. They ran into the circle and began beating Bob around the kneecaps with their swords. I kept spraying.
Eventually, Bob the Fire Wizard was brought down and all the fire was extinguished. Seth and Jake continued to work on bruising Bob’s shins, and I quickly discarded the hose to lend my fists and extremely pointy elbows to the cause. Bob lay in the smoldering grass, probably regretting using such sturdy chair legs.
Once we’d all tired ourselves out and lay panting in a heap, Bob decided it was time for the moral of the story. “You see, a sword is nothing compared to the power of a little girl with **magic**.”
We thought about this for a few moments. Bob nodded wisely. Jake and Seth nodded back.
“I still want a sword.” I said.
there’s a lot of people in the tags and replies expressing several concerns, which I will address:
“Where was Gin?” She was sleeping in a crib on the sunporch. We did this a lot–played outside while she napped–because we could hear her if she woke up and started crying, but were less likely to wake her up. She slept through the whole thing and was totally fine.
“You can’t put out a gasoline fire with water.” At the time, my little kid brain assumed that any flammable liquid was gas, but in retrospect it could have been almost anything. It very well may have been something other than gasoline. All I know is I could extinguish it with a garden hose.
“What did your parents say?” A lot of swear words at a very high volume.
“Did you get a sword?” Yes. Lots. Here are a couple of them, and also my pet ringneck dove, Arson. You can see how this all may have had some lasting effect on me.
Is that a real bird?? :0
Yes, she’s real. This is Arson, her mate, Larceny, and their idiot children, Forgery and Fraud.
Arson lives her life constantly wishing she had opposable thumbs so she could light fires.
What a ride
The absolute mania of naming your pets after felonies.
thrilled to report that that was also me
The first part triggers the sleeper cells the second part turns on rage mode for them
im Not Kidding i am going to Commit A Homicide
We as a species are each and every day becoming more creative in the ways with which we destroy eachothers lives.
How the fuck was this a children’s television character?!?
this always cheers me up.
I don’t know who played Mr Blobby here.
But that guy deserved a Best Actor in a Comedy Emmy Award here.
He is hysterical.
Jack still being so suspicious.
what is this.
an anxiety attack
He gone
Bonus:
Jack: no fear
Mr Blobby: J̡̼̓̓ͮ͑ͩͭ̇͞A̧̬̙̹̝̻̼ͯ̑͆̉̿C̯̬̯̬̤̻̦̞̎̐̈̏́͗̀̐͘Kͭ҉̹̼̭̹̻͢
Jack: one fear
Every so often I remember that Les Mis YTP and completely lose my composure no matter what I'm doing
My NAME is
JAJ ValJAJ.
And I'm
JAJVERT...
You are a dangerous nun.....
Yes, six six six...
Victor Hugo stumbled and crawled so that YouTuber DaThings could sprint aboard a G6 and take off into the fucking thermosphere
Augustus of Prima Porta statue and how it looked originally. 1st century AD [1920x1080]
Hm. Why the nipple
Sometimes you want to feel sexy while conquering Parthia, you know?
Absolutely Valid I Will Stay In My Lane From Now On Thank You
CONTACT YOUR ELECTED OFFICIALS
CONTACT YOUR ELECTED OFFICIALS
CONTACT YOUR ELECTED OFFICIALS
CONTACT YOUR ELECTED OFFICIALS
Btw, if you want sources for the story in the above comic:
(x) (x) (x)
Courtney Act
:(
That sign can’t stop him because he can’t read
You know, for a song named “Piano Man,” the guy with the harmonica won’t shut the fuck up.
Me: *Removes my cat from my lap to do something else.*
My cat: Father is...evil? Father is unyielding? Father is incapable of love? I am running away. I am packing my little rucksack and going out to explore the world as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this household.
The spiritual successor to Miette
Might I also add
May i add the piece from artist Verbal Vomit
Glad to see we’re all in agreement that cats talk like disparaged victorian children
I am so incredibly glad we finally moved on from "i can has". Cats are clearly smart enough for advanced sentence structure and dumb enough to draw entirely incorrect conclusions about what they're talking about.
My cat, banging the cabnet door over and over and over: bang bang bang
Me: you will not earn what you desire by banging the cabinet door.
My cat: This is a test of wills, is it not? We shall see if your ability to put up with my incessant banging outlasts my eternal lust for snackie treats. Years of conditioning have hardened me for this purpose. bang bang bang
Me: ksst!
My cat, throwing herself to the ground like she's been shot: Oh! Oh I have been assailed in my own home! Have mercy, have pity! Surely in the cruel darkness of your heart there is some mote of goodness that might stay your hand! Do not strike me, I pray you!
Me: ok
My cat, after waiting about 3 minutes: bang bang bang
The way that mlm and wlw interact is so different like
Mlm: i made eye contact with this guy once and i think we’re married now???
Wlw: every day she makes me pancakes and kisses me gently on the nose and holds my hand as she sings softly to me. We’re such good friends :)
You. You get it.
a sage enters the thread
“You can’t win - I have the high ground.”
#this is up dog (via teapotsahoy)
