
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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DEAR READER

Andulka
will byers stan first human second
styofa doing anything
Jules of Nature
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
d e v o n
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YOU ARE THE REASON
Mike Driver
Not today Justin

tannertan36
Peter Solarz
we're not kids anymore.
Today's Document
noise dept.
ojovivo
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@thatpunkrockfandomchick
pretty sure this is exactly how lessons at qifrey's atelier go
(links // tip jar!)
"if her memory should be erased, then so should mine" i misseddd manipulative qifrey
Please get ready for many reblogs bc Im not normal about this person’s orufrey art
i love magic too (id in alt)
can someone explain what he's talking about i got distracted by his giant jiggling honkers badonkers
[x]
the slut is back !?
(I think he was in like 5 different Ska bands)
we're moving to an internet where children would be banned from reaching out for help and friendship online but abusive parents can post their children's every second online to humiliate and expose them for money with no pushback
Literally always take headphones with you. If you decide that you probably won't need them today, that's the devil talking. You will. You will
Also always bring your backup headphones if you think you might need them. You will need them.
Important addition to the magic the gathering lore: founder dragon's glasses
I love deeply traumatized men with haunted eyes. Like hell yeah babe look at me as if I'm the only good thing you've ever known.
ao3 came back on and I started shoving fics in my pockets (frantically downloading them) as though they were breadsticks from olive garden
all of my writing is actually just thinly-veiled fantasy about being seen at your worst and still being loved
…you’re…welcome?
Folks, friends, y’all…. esk*mo is a slur. I understand a lot of people don’t know that, I don’t want to be a dick about it, but I’ve been seeing it in fics. Wanna write “esk*mo kisses”? Just say “nuzzled noses” or something.
I’m not here to call anybody out, it’s been in multiple fics, I’m not vague posting. This is just a psa. 👍🏻
If you could help me spread awareness about this by reblogging, I’d really appreciate it.
I’ve had this post on insta saved for sometime ❤️
[Text Description: “Hey! Reminder: Eskimo is a slur. It means ‘snow eaters’ in Cree and is a slur against Inuit . Also don’t use ‘Eskimo kisses’. It’s called Kunik. It is a greeting mostly used for family… Kunik was how I’d greet my mom and grandmother as a small child.” /TD]
Rebloging for the awareness and especially for the alternative words
And so people who are just learning this now know the proper usage: “Inuit” is plural. The singular is “Inuk”, as in “he is an Inuk”
"big hammer" is probably the best girl-coded weapon type. most of the other standard weapons for girls have pretty wild implications if you think about them for too long but big hammer would never let you down
It always hits (much like a large hammer)
There was one of those hyperspecific polls that had an option like “your grandfather told you war stories that he never told anyone else” and now I feel like I have to tell the story about how a spider saved my grandpa’s life in WWII and how my family doesn’t kill spiders because we owe our existence to that One Single Spider
So to set the scene, it's the height of WWII in France and my grandpa—a 6'3" 20 year old upper Michigan farm boy—has been separated from his company after their temporary camp was shelled. My grandpa (who, I have to add, was nicknamed 'the Suicide Kid' at this point because he worked in demolitions and bomb interception and kept taking the jobs no one wanted with the expectation that he was never going home anyway) is scared out of his wits, wandering around the French countryside alone. He has to move at night and sleep in barns and sheds during the day to hide from people who most definitely want him dead.
On one of these days, he finds a farmhouse of a very jittery couple who agree to let him sleep in the barn, with the conditions that he sleeps in the barn loft and if he's found, they disavow all knowledge that he was there. He agrees, because he's exhausted and will sleep in a hay pile if he has to. My grandpa manages to fit all six foot three inches of himself into a feed trough stored upstairs and tries to get some sleep.
However, right when he's half-snoozing, he hears motors outside and sure enough, here are some very angry officers of mixed Nazi and Vichy make confronting the couple saying someone up the road spotted an American soldier walking this way. They wouldn't know anything about that, would they? No, of course not.
All the while, my grandpa—now trying to figure out how to either escape the barn unseen or how to fight off six? seven? eight? people at once—freezes up and waits for the inevitable. While he does, a HUGE spider crawls next to his head and onto the loft railing. For one second, he thinks about swatting it away, but that would risk him being seen and killed.
So, instead, he lays there and waits to either fight to the death or get executed in a feed trough. And while he lays there, the spider starts making a huge web on the railing. My grandpa's transfixed by this thing. He watches her go around and around, building a solid web before plopping herself off to one side and waiting for breakfast. At the same time, the officers finally go into the barn.
My grandpa can hear them searching around, turning over crates and checking animal pens. Then, he hears one say to check the loft.
And then another say, "Don't bother. Look at the spiderwebs up there. No one's been there in a while."
And they leave.
Because my grandpa didn't swat the spider away and let her build her web, the officers thought no one was there and left him alone. They drive off and my grandpa immediately thanks the farmer couple and hauls ass out of there as soon as he can.
After this, my grandpa refused to kill any spider, and his kids did the same. Because if it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have lived and would never have had kids or grandkids. So we owe her one.
There's the man himself. Go grandpa!!