Found in a 120 year old time capsule.

Full VDO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IoDj4mXdqmc

Worth it.

I’m sorry I might sound like a madwoman for going on a rant about this but man, it’s… I don’t know how to express it but just the thought of some person, 120 years ago, taking a photo of their cat, which back then wasn’t easy - they didn’t have phones with cameras, each photo required a lot of time and dedication, so not only the person “wasted” a whole photo on their cat, they also did their fricking best to save this photo and carefully put it into an envelope to preserve it so that people in the future will know that there was this cat and it looked like this and it’s owner thought the cat looked lovely that day so much that they decided to take a photo of it and then they loved the photo so much that they went out of their way to preserve it for future generations like “hello people from the future! this is what my cat loos like!” because they loved their cat so much they wanted people from the future to know about it is… crazy to me… and here we are, 120 years later, long after the cat and it’s owners passed away, looking at an old photo of a cat and gushing about it. The cat died so long ago and wouldn’t even know it existed if not for the owner that loved their cat so much that they decided this photo was worth preserving and put it into a time capsule. and seeing now how people dedicate whole blogs to their cats and take countless pictures of them just to show to other people really hits because you realize that in the end, people from today aren’t that much different from people that were 120 years ago. We all just love our cats and want people to look at them.

I bet this woman was imagining the photo may be seen by like… a family some day. But no. It survived till the age of the internet. It has now transcended the original media. It is now being seen by far more eyes in far more places than the media she chose would normally allow. I hope the taker of this 120 year old photo is PROUD.

Talking to myself out loud like a point and click protagonist

Losing it over some of y'all's tags btw Here's my favorites

and lastly.

good night

The holy trinity

Important addition!! https://www.reddit.com/r/inthenews/comments/14bpckz/a_white_supremacist_took_mdma_for_a_study_and_it/

jesse we need to cook empathy jesse

I know people on tumblr looove stories of underwater cave diving, but I haven't seen anyone talk about nitrogen narcosis aka "raptures of the deep"

basically when you want to get your advanced scuba certification (allowing you to go more than 60 feet deep) you have to undergo a very specific test: your instructor takes you down past the 60+ foot threshold, and she brings a little underwater white board with her.

she writes a very basic math problem on that board. 6 + 15. she shows it to you, and you have to solve it.

if you can solve it, you're good. that is the hardest part of the test.

because here's what happens: there is a subset of people, and we have no real idea why this happens only to them, who lose their minds at depth. they're not dying, they're not running out of oxygen, they just completely lose their sense of identity when deep in the sea.

a woman on a dive my instructor led once vanished during the course of the excursion. they were diving near this dropoff point, beyond which the depth exceeded 60 feet and he'd told them not to go down that way. the instructor made his way over to look for her and found a guy sitting at the edge of the dropoff (an underwater cliff situation) just staring down into the dark. the guy is okay, but he's at the threshold, spacing out, and mentally difficult to reach. they try to communicate, and finally the guy just points down into the dark, knowing he can't go down there, but he saw the woman go.

instructor is deep water certified and he goes down. he shines his light into the dark, down onto the seafloor which is at 90 feet below the surface. he sees the woman, her arms locked to her sides, moving like a fish, swimming furiously in circles in the pitch black.

she is hard to catch but he stops her and checks her remaining oxygen: she is almost out, on account of swimming a marathon for absolutely no reason. he is able to drag her back up, get her to a stable depth to decompress, and bring her to the surface safely.

when their masks are off and he finally asks her what happened, and why was she swimming like that, she says she fully, 100% believed she was a mermaid, had always been a mermaid, and something was hunting her in the dark 👍

"This is my weird son. He can't climb for shit, but he is handsome and strong."

#cats be like#is anybody adopt that#and don't wait for an answer

When an Ur guy / sells Nanni things / but the copper’s bad, / He simply records his complaint for all time / “I got a bad deal / I’m maaaaad”

My Favorite Things [Explained]

a lovely creecher

I live within bus distance of the Universal picket line for the writer’s strike, so I like to go down there when I can to march with em in solidarity. They are all extremely cool people, and since many of them are older than me, I have been treated to a lot of free advice on Adult Life from more experienced adults. 10/10.

It’s also extremely funny to hear them talk shit about studios/executives that they’ve had to put up with, because they’re no longer required to pretend Oh, They’re All Such Lovely People, We’re So Lucky To Work For Them.

- “Dick Wolf insists on having an a personal office at every studio where his shows are worked on. He never goes to half of them, and when he does, he’s not usually there long. It’s just supposed to be left empty for him in case he MIGHT show up.”

“I took a bunch of coffee creamers from there just before we called the strike.”

“Honestly, that sounds fair?”

“I like to think of it as payment for all the extra work I had to do for free.”

- “Never work for Netflix if you can avoid it.”

“Oh my God, RIGHT? It’s a nightmare!”

“That is the most exploited I’ve ever been, and I’ve been doing this for a while so that says a LOT.”

- “Do they ever acknowledge how many laws the cops break during a single episode of any of those SVU spinoffs?”

“We’re not even allowed to use the phrase ‘Bad apples’ because it makes them uncomfortable.”

- “Humor does not exist in the Dick Wolf-verse, so we’re only allowed to include one joke per episode. Sometimes I like to play a little game where I see if I can get away with sneaking in a second.”

“Has that ever worked?”

“I think once we got in a subtle pun.”

Hello cursed eldrich children, I'm dad!

{Check out my comics below}

> namesakecomic.com

> crow-time.com

Turns out the potassium nitrate I had as fertilizer for algae to feed my slut isn't fucking a nitrate salt at all and I am pissed

I think a slut needs a more varied diet than just algae?

This is the worst typo in the world

This is the slut in question by the way

💥💥SLUT TYPO💥💥

[Image descriptions first is a photo of a pretty purple sea slug with frilly side slug fin bits. Second image is the same photo with text "love this animal. The slut"]

The anniversary trip.

“I was lookin’ at a place upstate to celebrate our anniversary. It’s a little cabin in the woods….We can go up there, spend the night. No distractions, no work. Just us.”

(Blindspot Season 4, Episode 13 - Though This Be Madness)

Easter bunnies.

(Blindspot Season 4, Episode 13 - Though This Be Madness)

[originally posted as part of my Strikespot Easter Bunnies gifset]

In honour of disability pride month, we made a disability Pride Knight! Stay proud! ⚔️🌈

my dads response could not have been better

important addition

tee hee

tee hee

A day late, but posting a story of when we first got married to celebrate our anniversary:

The thing about having an autistic husband, is as much as I love him, he just is not capable of picking up on behaviors or facial expressions and knowing what they mean. He needs me to speak the words I’m feeling.

Early on, this was a problem. When I was exhausted after work and didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with anything, I needed some time alone.

I would say “I’m tired,” get up and leave a room.

He’d follow.

I would shut a door.

He would open it, and keep talking to me.

I had to actually speak the words, “I would like a little bit of space for a while.”

And then he would say, “Oh.” In a sad voice.

And then I’d feel like an asshole, because he always seemed so sad when I did that. I didn’t want to hurt him. I loved him, and I thought I was a bad wife for wanting time for myself. Things were not good.

One day, I came home, and on my desk was a card, laminated. It was simple, black text on white background, in 36-point font. It said:

I love you. Fuck off.

And he took my hands and said the reason he was sad wasn’t that I needed space— he needs his sometimes too, but I pick up the signals and leave him alone.

He felt bad that he couldn’t understand me, and I always looked so uncomfortable and guilty when I told him.

So now I have a card that I can hand to him, any time, and he will understand and go away for an hour and nobody feels guilty.