#*900

[purpe]

rip jake the dog, you would’ve loved swearing on adventure time

[aromantisk-fagforening]

How many languages do you know at least little bit of?

Remake of an older poll (link here)

Like last time I am using a strict definition of language and a loose definition of being able to speak/knowing the language.

Details:

Sign languages count, conlangs count, super similar languages only counts one & dialects of the same language usually won't count (unless you can make multiple sentences in both that someone who only spoke the other couldn't understand), for Norwegian being able to write both bokmål & nynorsk only counts as one

You need to know more than 30 words and be able to construct at least one sentence for it to count. it has to be at least one of the following: writing/signing/speaking/whistling, it doesn't have to be multiple.

(and for people with "sampling bias" concerns, this is not supposed to represent society as a whole)

Poll:

It's super cool if you put the languages in tags

@aromantisk-fagforening

[gojosbf]

rip king of curses you'll not be missed

[sofiarostova]

i've been a good, good girl for a long time now ...

chappell roan at outside lands

[aloekat]

his ass is NOT grant o’brien!!!!

[zu-is-here]

We have a winner!! (leave him alone)

[bunny-carrothunter]

I know Goose said there would be no ships in this show, THEN EXPLAIN THIS-

[ricketybonesandricketyhands]

[summergirl2408]

After about 11 months and 777.5 hours of work I am finally done and I am obsessed with the end result

pattern by @forineffablereasons / @darcylindbergh

stitched on 18ct aida fabric with 2 strands of dmc floss

[theancientwayoflife]

~ Eccentric Flint in the Form of a Scorpion.

Place of origin: Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, or Mexico (Mesoamerica)

Culture: Maya

Date: A.D. 600–900

Medium: Stone, Chert

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

For your 900 followers celebration!!

“I’ll always choose you”

Jason Todd has never been anyone's first pick. He knows that. He's second, third, eighth best.

He doesn't get second glances, he doesn't get what he wants, and he doesn't get to be anyone's first thought. He's not anyone's go-to person. He understands that, accepts that.

But, deep down, in a place he doesn't want to ever want to unpack, he wishes you would.

You. He knows he has it bad for you. Pretty eyes, even prettier smiles. He's head over heels, a complete mess with no direction, and no idea what to do about it.

He'll endure the teasing he gets when he stares at you too long. He'll ignore the doubts that creep into his mind that you'd hate him if you knew how his heart stutters at the sight of you. He'll deal with it all if he can just spend another second listening to you laugh.

He thinks you have at least a vague idea of how he feels. You must pity him, because you seem happy to patrol with him. You sit yourself next to him on the couch more often than not during movie nights. You call him when life keeps him too busy from visiting.

It lulls him into a false sense of security, that even with how broken he is, you still want to stick around. It makes him a little greedy, a little selfish, to have more of your attention.

But you give it to him. Without question, without asking for anything in return.

You text him more, invite him to your apartment. He finds himself more and more entwined in your life, and it's more than he ever thought he'd deserve.

He's sitting in your kitchen one night, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice as he tells you what he's planning to cook for dinner. It's a new recipe. One he thinks you'll like.

But then you get a call. He deflates a little when he hears your friend inviting you out. He tries to keep the smile on his face. It's fine if you go. The leftovers he leaves might not be as good as they are fresh, and it might not taste as good without you, but he's not going to hold it against you.

He swallows the knot in his throat when you hang up the call, head spinning with so many thoughts he missed the tail end of your conversation, "So, ah, rain check for dinner then?"

You look a little surprised, "No? We're hanging out tonight, aren't we?"

"I mean, yeah," he says, cursing himself for stammering, "but, if ya wanted to go out, I wouldn't blame ya."

"I don't," You say easily, "I wanna stay here with you."

His gaze flicks over your face, trying to pick out the truth of your words, "You do?"

"Yeah. I'll always choose you, Jason," you tell him softly, like you don't realize you're knocking his entire world off center, "I like being around you."

He can't fight the wide, cheesy grin that spreads across his face, and he quickly turns to mess with the ingredients on the counter to hide, "Oh. Cool. Yeah. Me too."

You giggle a little, and his face heats up at the sound. He forces out more words, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart, "So, uh, dinner?"

"Dinner," you echo, voice happy and light. It makes him think he might have had this all wrong. That, there's a chance, he really is your person.

The thought sticks with him all the way through dinner. And when you smile like you want to be here, when you ask him for seconds, he almost starts to think it's true.

[gojosbf]

using the term useless homosexual at any chance given from now on

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

where the fuck is the marijuanica (marijuanikkah ?) the picture i need it. the joints.

[noelletism]

My fave genre of images

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Renault Project 900, 1959. The first of two radical proposals for a new flagship Renault to replace the Frigate. Styled by Sergio Coggiola (formerly of Ghia) and Michel Béligond (Renault designer), their mission was to maximise interior space. The 900 was powered a rear mounted 1.7 litre V8 engine created from two Renault Dauphine engines.

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