Physical Embodiment Of A Salt Shaker @nightoclock - Tumblr Blog

Getting the vibe that Sklonda does not like Fabian, which crushes me in a way. Because here’s Riz’s best friend who he holds at such a high regard and has latched onto. And of course that day when he goes home with his newly gifted briefcase and business cards he shows his mom, who is probably wary of such an impromptu gift. And of course all his mom sees when she meets Fabian is a wealthy elven jock who reminds her a little bit too much of the people she had to deal with in Highschool. And of course when she hears him call her son “The Ball”, shes going to take that derogatorily, because Riz has probably offhandedly mentioned his first day of school a few times. And of course she’s going to say “I prefer Riz, Fabian.” Because thats her SON, and she knows how hard it is for people like her and her family to be respected, and if her son’s so-called ‘best friend’ isn’t going to use her son’s REAL name than he might as well not even regard him at all.

tzikeh

More examples of the WORST mansplaining here.

useyourblinker

This might be my favorite

lotsofcatsandcheapwine

This is mine

stockyardsyndrome

chewedcorn

christ on a cracker (the last supper, oil on saltine)

hislittleflower-throughconcrete

I don’t know why, but reading “oil on saltine” just sent me

frogpronouns

what you need to understand about recommending a show to me is that no matter how much we both know I'll like it, I can't watch it until the Neurodivergence Department in my brain approves it. I don't know when that will be, and I don't have any more control over it than you do.

telanana

The Neurodivergence Department:

thealgerian

Both were filled at the same time with the same water, only one had oysters.

flagellant

:/ The next time you think it’s okay to be nonbinary, remember the cost. We are killing our planet 😔

beannewpage

Wtf. No, be who you are. This doesn’t define you.

lindsaysblue

I offer some context

solitarelee

that context was DESPERATELY needed thank you

dkpsyhog

You know how canaries were historically brought into coal mines, because if the mine was full of carbon monoxide the canary would die first and the miners would be able to escape before they died too?

I just found the greatest thing.

This is a canary resuscitator.

When the miners notice the canary getting sick with carbon monoxide poisoning, they can close that circular hatch so no more gas gets into the canary cage, and open the valve on that oxygen tank to keep the canary breathing. In other words, they made a spacesuit for birds.

By immediately giving the canary access to clean air, the miners can save it from the poison. The bird lives. To be clear, this is not for economic purposes, this was specifically created because the miners felt bad and wanted to save the bird.

Isn’t that just the perfect demonstration of what humans are like? We started sacrificing small creatures to save ourselves, and then felt bad and spent our valuable resources on saving the critters too. Because yeah the canary was the only way to test for CO, but it’s a living creature too, dammit!

potter-on-my-wayward-doctor

moami

if you find bones in the forest, sit a bit and listen. they are old and have some good stories to tell. maybe they’ll teach you a spell or two, or explain where the water on our planet came from.

if you find bones by the ocean, run. don’t look back. run, faster, faster. the sea may love you but there are nights where she knows neither mercy nor science, and the bones warn you only once.

torrythetorry

boi if you find bones call the police i hate this website so much

moami

this is a piece of creative writing, in case you couldn’t tell from the fact that real bones don’t usually go hey lil’ mama lemme whisper bony secrets in your ear or warn you of the incoming tides like a calcified weather frog.

les-maux-doux

sometimes you read a fanfiction to distract and enjoy yourself but you end up reading a dialogue or a sentence that fundamentally changes who you are as a person and how you perceive the world around you, and honestly i wouldn't have it any other way

camewiththeframe

resist-this-sir

Accurate

justpervingalong

Inaccurate when I say I’m not very political it’s because I’m not. I’m a libertarian that leans conservative but politics bore me.

losswin422-deactivated20201107

The next post on this dudes blog is about how women are naturally inferior

kuueater

“i’m a libertarian” right so you just a conservative that likes weed and sometimes decides not to vote

ignorethisatyourperil

Excuse me, what

elucubrare

The chronicle of the monk Herbert of Reichenau for the year 1021 ends “My brother Werner was born on November 1.“

1021 was not an uneventful year. The emperor began a campaign into Italy. Illustrious abbots died. There was an earthquake. But Herbert took the time to note, at the end of the year, that his brother was born.

Of such acts of tenderness is history made.

lloerwyn-deactivated20201104

This post broke through the shell of crustiness on my medievalist heart and made me go ‘aww’.

marzipanandminutiae

There was a medieval parenting manual that recommended parents smack pieces of furniture their toddlers bumped into and scold the furniture for being so naughty as to get in the way, so that the kids would laugh and forget about their bumps and bruises

I read that and my heart melted

(source: Medieval Women by Deirdre Jackson. She cited the primary source but I cannot for the life of me find the book to check what it was called)

shredsandpatches

We should hold a thousandth birthday party for Werner in a couple of years.

theoutcastrogue

In 11th century Constantinople, the historian, philosopher, monk, and general insufferable know-it-all Michael Psellos once wrote a letter to his infant grandson. He begins like this:

“Perhaps I will not live to see you, dearest newborn and offspring of my soul, when you reach adolescence, if God so wishes it, or when you mature; for the days of my life are failing and the time approaches when its thread will be cut short. I have therefore decided to address this speech to you in advance of that day and reciprocate your innate charm with the graces of speech. I should be ungrateful and entirely thoughtless if at a time when your perceptions and thoughts are undeveloped (though as far as I alone am concerned you are perfect in these respects, insofar as you hear my voice and feel my affection, cling to my neck, slip into my embrace, and put up with my annoying kisses), I should be ungrateful, I say, if I myself failed to render to you a fitting return.”

He then goes on to praise his grandson, who is the most HANDSOME and INTELLIGENT and RATIONAL child ever born. (No seriously, he calls a four-month-old baby “rational” – rationality and moderation were considered important virtues so OBVIOUSLY his grandson was full of them.)

He observes every little thing the baby does – breastfeeding, taking baths, fussing, babytalking – with unrestrained marvel and delight, complete with flowery descriptions:

“[Your eyes] moved cheerfully, whenever a smile was about to come upon you. It sufficed for me to take note of this only once—I needed no Delphic tripod or bacchic ecstasy—to prophesy without hesitation from the kindly look in your eyes that you were about to laugh. And, true enough, you moved your lip slightly, blushed, and, behold! you laughed.”

He takes special pride that the baby likes him, and puts himself in the picture too:

“And when I would see you becoming perplexed, I immediately snatched you away from your toys, took you up in my hands, and lifted you up in the air until you were full of joy.”

He wishes him to lead a happy life. He calls him “my living pearl, the ornament of my soul”. And he ends the letter like this:

“May you obtain all that you love, but especially education and good sense, which alone can elevate the soul to its proper beauty and which constitute understanding of the more profound things. I wrote all this for you while holding you in my arms and kissing you insatiably.”

Isn’t it incredible? Translation by Anthony Kaldellis, from Mothers and Sons, Fathers and Daughters: The Byzantine Family of Michael Psellos (University of Notre Dame Press, 2006).

minitafan-deactivated20251020

Werner’s thousand birthday is this year.

sca-nerd

HAppy Birthday, Werner.

moghedien

It’s like when making Hocus Pocus they told Bette Midler “this is camp just do whatever the fuck you want,” they told Sarah Jessica Parker that she could either drop acid or do a line of coke before every take but she had to do one, they told Kathy Najimy that her character is just an evil golden retriever, and then they told all the actors playing the kids that this was a very serious horror movie and if they didnt take all of this seriously they’d be in trouble

a-method-in-it

I think that's why it resonates so much with both kids and adults. To the kids, this seems like a Super Scary Movie -- I know I thought so the first time I saw it at like age 8. It had real stakes! It had villains who really did bad things! A little girl really died in the beginning! They were going make the parents dance until they DIED! This is way more serious than most movies I am allowed to watch! The campy elements actually read as kind of sinister when you're a child -- these evil witches being wildly over-the-top and unpredictable. And that's why it works, I think: because the scariness comes from the strangeness, not from something we might call genuine horror, the movie is okay for little kids to watch. And some of the camp genuinely does serve as comedic moments for the kids, to make sure the witches are TOO scary. Meanwhile, when you grow up, you're like "OMG this is hilarious look at this shit" -- all the stuff that seemed weird and strange and sinister when you were little now is vibrant and fun. Basically, as a child, you identify with the super serious children trying to survive a horror movie, and as an adult you identify with Kathy Najimy trying to ride a vaccuum cleaner because there are no brooms. Like, "My life is a mess, too, Kathy. We're all just making due. You and your sisters stay extra, okay?"

swan-of-sunrise

Happy Halloween, ya’ll!

beaft

my cat hates taking his pills. the only way we can get him to eat them is to turn it into an elaborate pantomime - we take the packet out of the cupboard slowly and hold it up, saying “oh!! what’s this? what’s this? a TREAT? a TREAT for louis????” while making surprised faces. we offer him a pill… then, before he has a chance to sniff it, we wag our fingers at him and replace it in the packet so it becomes a Tantalising Forbidden Mystery. we continue doing this until he’s so confused and excited that he will eat the pill as fast as possible, just so he can find out what it is before we can take it away from him again. as soon as he’s eaten it he looks utterly disappointed and betrayed, like a child who just ate a delicious sweet only to find it was a chocolate-coated brussels sprout. it never gets old