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Always reblog Hope Corgi.
have-mercy-i-am-trash
One of DC’s shining moments
Love the contrast between the Americans’ “Apollo” and the Soviets’ “Sputnik.” You got the Americans naming their rocket after a Greek god trying to communicate the grandness and importance of this rocket. And you got the Soviets naming their rocket “fellow traveler.” Like a friend you go on an adventure with together. This rocket is our little friend lol
And they were gay for each other
And they were gay for each other.
DHCJCNDBJWJDJk3@2
the woman in the river shows me an axe of silver and asks if it is the one I lost. I respond that it is. she produces an axe of gold and asks the same question again. I shamefully look away, not sure whether I'm comfortable admitting that I was dual wielding
she stares at me in abject confusion as I take stock of my tools. a look of dissatisfaction brews on her face. "but why is one golden?" the woman asks.
I tug nervously at my coat, feeling the slightest bit insulted. "well, it's not cheap to have a matching pair," I tell her. "not everyone can afford two golden axes."
"why not two silver axes?"
"I had the money for one golden axe."
the woman crosses her arms. "but the gold is worse for everything you'd want an axe to do."
"it's not. it was more expensive and also really hard to find."
"gold" she says, "is softer than silver."
"it's literally not, though," I say. "that's a really common misconception, but pure silver is softer than gold."
"most metal sold as silver is actually an alloy. that axe is probably sterling silver. I don't believe for a second someone made you a pure silver axe."
I look at my axe, then back to the woman, then back to my axe.
"it was pure silver when it went into the river."
an unreadable expression. with a great splash, the woman disappears into the current.
for three days and three nights, I wander along the river's edge, hoping to find the woman again. I throw rocks, twigs, and once or twice a weird looking animal into the water. it's all to no avail.
on the final evening, I see a glint at the river's mouth. I run as quickly as I can, knowing I've finally found... oh for fuck's sake, it's just silver-plated. I lob the awful thing into the river with a huff.
"how can you tell?" asks the woman, peeking out of the water. "that could be the one you've lost."
"it's not."
"but you won't cut your losses and move on," she gestures wide, "one axe the richer?"
"that's too wide of a gesture for a cheap knick knack," I say, gesturing modestly in some approximation of how much I think the silver-plated axe is worth. the woman seems annoyed.
"I've been telling you, you have your real axe. the gold axe is the one that sucks."
"so what?" I spit. "are you suggesting I just use two cheap silver axes instead of my cool pure silver and gold axes?"
she groans. "I honestly would, man."
if I was matt murdock and I found out the same chemical spill that blinded me and lit the world on “fire” turned a bunch of turtles into pizza loving ninjas I would lose it actually
I’m not going lie the thought of matt finding out he’s radioactive ooze brothers with this particular version of the tmnt has me in tears
matt, trying to recount his childhood and ignore the smell of turtle, three day old pizza, and sewer: …..so yah, after my dad died I was basically on my own.
the turtles, already planning on buying their radioactive waste brother a shirt that says “I fell in radioactive waste and all I got was these glasses”: cowabummer dude. our dad’s a rat
Cowabanger of a post
i feel like if you stabbed an angel the blood trail would look like this
okay but this is a power move above any other
hoseph-christiansen
It gets even better, because he was doing all of this on a pitch black night. This dude swam towards a lure, slapped at it with his glove, and when it got caught; he let himself float and tugged on the line so the fisherman thought he had hooked a 100+ pound salmon. Once he was finally up to the shore, he turned a flashlight on in the guy’s face and walked out of the water, saying “good morning, gentlemen. State fish and game warden, you’re under arrest.“
At this point, the guy who had reeled him in had literally fallen over in shock, and the other people with him were scared shitless. The warden whipped some citations out of a plastic bag in his wetsuit, made the trespassers sign them, asked if they had any questions, and then gathered all of their fishing gear. And he just. Walked back into the river. And quietly swam away, without another word.
This man is a legend.
warden coming out of his river to shame fishermankind
the sun set long ago. we light the candles anyway. I say Kiddush, let the words wrap around our tiny dining room, the same words that have wrapped around a million dining rooms and dorm rooms and sanctuaries and hovels for centuries.
I ask my partner (goyische, bashert, beloved) "what was the best part of your week" as we sit down to Shabbos dinner of takeout. "choir rehearsal at synagogue," they reply, and my heart swells.
I grab my phone to wish a slew of friends "good Shabbos! may you get the rest you need!" in the morning, I will wrap myself in a tallis of silk I chose not one I was given and daven to the music of an acoustic guitar.
some will say that I have not kept Shabbat. but I have remembered. and I say
"this, too, is Torah."
Compilation
Forgetting another good one
never not thinking about Poison Jr
the ninth doctor was lowkey so under appreciated. he was the perfect combination of rascal (mostly) benevolent god and slut
imo he was the most considerate doctor, who was the most aware of his power and the people he was capable of hurting. he was cynical and moody and war worn but he cared so deeply. he loved knowing he’d lose. he kissed a servant girl on the forehead that sacrificed herself who no one would remember except for him and rose. and at the same time a right bastard <3
The contrast between Nine's absolute glee in, "Everybody lives, Rose! Just this once, everybody lives!" and the cold self-recognition of loathing in his "Only a killer would know that" dinner with the Slitheen leader. Eccleston was so good.
forever my doctor.
Anonymous asked:
How do you process grief?
by running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day
prev had extremely beautiful and profound thoughts i had to share
can you talk about moss poaching i'm actually really curious
How can I refuse! Absolutely!!! It sounds kind of ridiculous, but it's actually very sad.
So, let's start off with some numbers. Every year, the moss black market is estimated to garner up to $165 million for trafficking approximately 82 million pounds of moss.
I cannot even wrap my mind around how much moss that is.
You might ask, why does moss poaching exist and why is it so lucrative? Well, the quality that has made mosses the prey of an illegal trade is simply their aesthetic appeal. Soft, velvety, and moist, mosses are extremely pleasant to the touch and calming to look at. Some people are willing to pay large amounts of money to collect them and put them in private gardens. However, most of the mosses that move in this underground black market are actually sold to companies/wholesalers for use in potting/gardening soil, plant nurseries, decor, and as craft materials. The majority of the preserved mosses in your run-of-the-mill chain craft store, planters, floral wreaths, or very-much-dead living wall decorations are gathered illegally, bleached to death, and then dyed green. This goes for a lot of prepackaged peat moss and soil mix blends as well.
Even though it is illegal to gather moss in public places (in the US, at least), people still harvest it. Why? Probably because there's a fair amount of money to be made and the consequences are very rarely enforced, and when they are, they are quite light--usually a $50 fine at worst if you're caught. Most of this black market moss is actually poached from the national park system, with Appalachia and the Pacific Northwest usually being the hardest hit regions.
Mosses play vital roles in many ecosystems, provide homes for threatened species, regulate water distribution in forests, and help with erosion, so their loss is a terrible blow. Additionally, moving such large quantities of mosses from one location to another may spread unwanted, invasive hitchhikers, like insects that lay their eggs in the plants, or even seeds and spores.
I'll end on this thought:
It can take 20 years for a small patch of moss removed from a fallen tree to grow back with the right moisture conditions.
How long would it take to regrow 82 million pounds?
Help me ob-gyn kenobi, you’re my only hope.
She needed more midwife-clorians.
I really hope everyone reblogging this followed the link and read the article, because it’s larger point is really good “Reproductive health and childbirth is a crutch, and Lucas gets away with it because his audience accepts that these things are mysterious and cannot be intervened with the way that that the loss of limbs can be remedied with robot prosthetics, or the way Luke can be rescued from near-death on Hoth by being submerged in a bacta tank. Having babies is worse than being mauled by a wampa ice creature or being chopped up by lightsabers and falling into a river of lava. Lucas can write a world like that, and worse, the audience will accept it. But uteruses aren’t made of malignant magic. Women’s bodies are real physical things that can be studied and understood and when necessary, cured. ”
IDK about everyone else, but I’ve actually been certified as a doula and childbirth educator and worked in women’s health media for most of a decade. All points valid, but “Help me OB-GYN Kenobi” broke me.
And this is how you can tell a story was written by men because pre-natal healthcare never even occurred to the writer. Women’s insides are a mysterious and magical place that no man either can fathom, or just just not want to think about, so in stories like this they just handwave it away as” dying in childbirth”.
Help me, OB-GYN Kenobi.
shiaa-estt
I love how everyone’s like YES ALL POINTS VALID
But
“Help me OB-GYN Kenobi”
to be fair, it is a brilliantly executed pun
You telling me that Jack Black would not be 1000% down to be kidnapped by the muppets for a shenanigan, or possible a hijink?
Mr. The Frog still sends me more than “we all agreed a celebrity is not a people”
Consider, from the perspective of ten years ago, an ex-president saying he used to constantly fantasize about fucking men, and the reaction being "yeah, whatever, poser."
A short comic about a girl, her mother and their different Black clothes.
I made this in late August this year for Seriefrämjandets yearly contest. The topic was comics for young people… and guess what, I actually won!
En serie med otroligt bra känsla för karaktärer, med god känsla för hur utseende och subkulturer betyder i ungdomens sökande efter en identitet. En serie som man ser på första anblick har hjärta, och som subtilt pekar på ämnen som andra skulle göra till huvudpoängen i historien. Som en liten bonus får vi en tjej i huvudrollen som känns levande och som man känner starkt inför.
I’m incredibly surprised, happy and grateful to have won. Since it got so much praise, I figured I should post it here. Thanks to Keetande for helping me with the tricky translation!
HELL yeah fatima
2006barbie-deactivated20210102
this is exactly the sort of information we the public needed to know 🥺