DO NOT ENGAGE WITH BLUE CHECKS
Elon Musk is paying blue checks for ad revenue in the replies of their Tweets now. He is only paying "verified" accounts for this, even if the account in question has hundreds of thousands of followers.
The entry for Super Mario Galaxy 2 on Nintendo’s official site for the Super Mario Bros. 35th anniversary has an error in its ESRB rating: “Mild Cartoon Violence” is spelled “Mild Cartton Violence” instead. Bizarrely, this is spelled correctly in all other places on the website; suggesting that instead of using a template, some Nintendo employee typed out the ratings individually for each of the games.
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mintmoogle
mild carlton violence
This site toppling the competition by opting to sell shoelaces instead of monetising their users must be one of the greatest examples of failing upwards in history
English added by me :)
meanwhile, the cat is like “I am living my best life right now, I am coming back as a cat in a Buddhist monastery at least four or five more times”
Do NOT make him turn this plant stroller around, I swear to Someone
due to factors such as "time pressure" and "tulle is of the devil" my expectations for this shirt are not high. but i spent a lot of time imagining these button bands and they turned out pretty nice
progress on this includes:
- attached the back and the yoke; did the yoke with wonky little panels for reinforcement(?), as it's not double-layered, and for a fun symmetrical piecing moment
- attached fronts to back at shoulders (not pictured)
- constructed a collar and collar stand and arranged Leafs upon it
- started hand stitching down leafs. it would be more elegant to do this before assembling the collar, but i can't visualize how both the seam allowances and the crease in the collar work + the tulle is itchy if misplaced
have yet to do sleeves, side seams, finishing hand stitching on collar, attaching collar, sleeve plackets (on tulle??), cuffs, Buttonholes (evil to me)
Shirt's done except for finishing the collar handstitching & touching up some of the buttonholes (used a friend's fancy machine with varying success). Lots of things wrong with it that are hard to see from more than three feet away
No pictures of it on me because I have yet to obtain a suitable layering piece which is a really funny problem to have!
buttons!!!!!!
Finished the collar! If you want to make embroidery you cut out of some tulle look like it is On There For Real this is what I did
- roughly cut out and place embroidery. baste with glue stick (glue sticks to the back of the embroidery and not the tulle)
- tack it down with a color matched running stitch (or whatever) along the stems and centers
- cut off more tulle from the edges with tinier scissors
- tack down the edges. with, in this case, a different thread color, do a faux chain stitch where you grab the very end of a stitch from the extant embroidery
- like so
this has the benefit of kind of squashing down any tulle that didn't get trimmed
and now it moves with the fabric and doesn't stick up at the edges!
hey great news. i look charming in it
It is almost five centuries ago, and the girl who will one day be a swordswoman is lying in the red-tinged mud. She can't get up—broken bone? severed tendon? She can't tell. She's yet to cultivate her palate for pain. Her enemy towers over her, a cataphract mailed in screaming steel and poisoned light. His warhammer falls, and it is death, forever death, death unconquered and unconquerable.
"No," says a part of her. She is not even seventeen years old. Her body is mangled and broken, wound piled upon wound piled upon wound. A dull kitchen knife is her only weapon, though she lost that in the mud the second her grip faltered. Her enemy is no thing of this earth. And yet—
"No. It is not death, forever death, death unconquered and unconquerable. It is only a hammer, falling. It is only 'an attack.'"
And the girl understood.
~~~
It is the better part of three centuries ago, as best the swordswoman can reckon, and she is beset on all sides by foes. They are not monsters—just mountain bandits, or highland rebels, as one cares to see it. But they outnumber her by dozens, and even an exceptional swordswoman might struggle against but two opponents of lesser skill.
From in front of her, beside her, behind her they advance, striking from every angle with spears and blades and axes. Others fill the air with arrows, sling stones, firepots. It would be effortless, to parry any single blow. It would be impossible, physically impossible, to defend against them all.
"No," says a part of her.
"You are not outnumbered. You do not face 'multiple' foes. It would be impossible to defend against every attack — but there is no 'every' attack. Only one."
"Oh," the swordswoman said. And it was, in fact, effortless.
~~~
It is eighty years ago, or thereabouts. A coiling spire of stony flesh and verdigrised copper throbs like a tumor on the horizon, coaxed from the earth by spell and sacrifice. It is the tower of a sorcerer-prince, and a birthing place of abominations.
Seven locks of rune-etched metal are opened with her single key. Wretched shapeling beasts, grown by sorcery in vitreous nodules, flee wailing from her, absconding before she even draws her blade. Demons sworn to thousand-year pacts of service find the binding provisions of their agreements unexpectedly severed.
These things dissatisfy the sorcerer-prince. He waxes wroth. He makes signs of power and chants incantations. With a flask of godling's blood, he draws the binding sigil inscribed upon the moon's dark face. With cold fire burning in his eyes, he speaks the secret name of Death. It is a king among curses, all-corrupting, all-consuming, and it falls from his lips upon the swordswoman.
"No," she says, and she turns it aside with her blade.
The sorcerer-prince's brow furrows. How did she even do that?
"Parried it."
But—
"With my sword."
No—
"See, like this."
Stop—
"Well," the swordswoman finally says, "I figured that if I just...looked at it right, and thought about it, and construed your curse as a kind of attack...then I could block it."
That's not how it works at all!
"If you insist," says the swordswoman, shrugging, and decapitates him.
~~~
It is now. It is the end. Death couldn't take the swordswoman, not when she'd spent all her life cutting it up. At times, Death might sidle up to one of her friends, or peer down into a grandchild's crib, and she'd just give it a look. That's all it took, by then.
Heartache couldn't take her, either. Bad things happened to her, and they hurt, and she lived in that hurt, but if it was ever more than she could take...she'd just, move her sword in a way that's difficult to describe. And she'd keep going.
Kingdoms fell, and she kept going. Continents crumbled and sank into the sea. Her planet's star faded and froze. She started carrying a lantern. Universes were torn apart and scattered, until all that had been matter was redistributed in thermodynamic equilibrium. With one exception.
But now it is the end. There is no time left; time is already dead. The swordswoman has outlived reality, but there is simply no further she can go. This is not a thing that can be blocked. This is the absence of anything further to block.
"No," says the girl who will one day be a swordswoman. "This isn't the ending. And even if it was, it's not the ending that matters."
The swordswoman looks back at who she was, at the countless selves she's been between them. She looks forward, at the rapidly contracting point that remains of the future. She grasps the all of linear time in her mind, and sees that it is shaped like a spear.
leopardheart-deactivated2023022
milk-thistle is an example of a word where the tongue barely moves… basilica is an example of a word where the movement involved is like a seesaw. opium as a word is circular to say. to say a word like violence involves a bit of a forced pause in the mouth where the o connecting the syllables is. etymologists trace the word’s history, poets feel the word’s impact, singers listen to the word’s musicality, linguists tell the word to go this way and that way, and the word is gracious to all in return
Hi. It's me... Again.
I just saw the latest Meowpheus Monday and I got an idea (I'm loving through you sorry) but... It's a hc that Morpheus gets a far away look when he's looking into the collective unconscious... What if, hear me out, what if he does that thing when cats are licking their paws (the stretchy leggy thing) and they get distracted, leggy and tongue out. I'll look for a pic hold on.
Like this but with their tiny tongue out. Like caught mid thought.
Ok. That's it, sorry for the rant
Not pictured is Hob straining to contain his laughter so he doesn’t break Dream’s concentration
Happy Meowpheus Monday!
i can't watch movies containing naval warfare for the same reason some horse lovers can't watch historic war movies where horses get shot
yes, i know the cannonballs aren't real. yes, i understand the ships are only pretending to sink. and yet, I am distress
Don't worry! The boats just turn into submarines when the sink! They don't actually take any damage, they just travel underwater to get a snack for being such good boats!
logically i know this, but it's still reassuring to hear someone say it out aloud
And! When they do a really really really good job they are given boat belly rubs! and an extra warm boat bath! I am glad I could be of help to reassure you my friend!
why do we praise boats like this boats are an invasive species and danger to the ocean and all of its natural wildlife like sharks and shipwreaks
okay wow that is a MASSIVE generalization, the boat genus has evolved over thousands of years and consists of hundreds of subspecies many of which are perfectly capable of living as part of a balanced aquatic ecosystem. boats aren't automatically evil just because *you personally* think they're big and scary.
@is-the-boat-video-cute your professional opinion?
Rating: Cute!
While there are invasive boat species (see: most species of yacht), most species of boat are fully acclimated to their environment!
this is my favourite genre of Tumblr post
what can i say tumblr loves shipping
David Cleary!
i'm in Ireland and the search for that bastards name is still blocked and hidden... the legnths the british go to defend and protect their instruments of colonialism and violence is beyond belief. no justice for the victims and yet every measure taken to protect David James Cleary and his fellow murderers.
Never a better time for the Streisand Effect than when it's a government covering up acts of brutality and evil.
