#and then I DO forget
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
miyamoratsumuu · 4 months ago
Note
hihi frannie :P
HIII ELLE HOW ARE YOUUU? I miss talking to you so so much, I'll make it up to you soon, promise!!
5 notes · View notes
haunted-xander · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
If you skip a meal Senshi will materialize next to you w/ food at the ready
41K notes · View notes
dovesick · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
endless night
51K notes · View notes
cork-run · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
the names of certain mob-involved trans women have been changed
24K notes · View notes
hunnicute · 1 month ago
Text
i dont think spotify knows what a genre is
14K notes · View notes
prouvaireafterdark · 5 months ago
Text
listen I know it's heartbreaking that Claudia dies and it's understandable to wish she didn't, but let's please not accuse the writers of fridging her. to do so is a fundamental misunderstanding of the story and is frankly insulting to the intelligence and skill of the writers of the show.
Claudia's death, and the overwhelming grief and regret her parents experience because of it, is quite literally the point of the entire story. she dies because Anne's daughter Michele died of leukemia when she was five years old and there was nothing she or her husband could do to prevent it.
writing IWTV was how Anne coped with the unimaginable loss of a parent losing her child. she created a story about a little girl that could not die and then killed her anyway. Claudia's death is a senseless, unavoidable tragedy, just like Michele's was. the grief that haunts Louis and Lestat for the rest of their lives is the same grief that haunted Anne and her husband.
so when you're accusing people of killing Claudia off to benefit a story about two men, please remember that in real life sometimes parents lose their children. please remember Michele Rice.
Tumblr media
she's the reason Claudia exists.
she's also the reason Claudia cannot be saved.
17K notes · View notes
hamletthedane · 10 months ago
Text
I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
28K notes · View notes
wanologic · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
reminder to take care of your loser human body
13K notes · View notes
em-allay · 23 days ago
Text
Dysfunctionally Functional:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Functionally Dysfunctional:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
7K notes · View notes
lemongogo · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
life of regret
7K notes · View notes
an-internet-introvert · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
When burning pasta is so traumatic you have to rewrite history in your head
7K notes · View notes
egophiliac · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
everyone out of the way, this is the only thing I'm going to be thinking about from now on.
(okay, there is one more thing)
Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
daigah · 9 months ago
Text
I love when sdv spouses r like "babe I watered the plants for you 🥺🥺" "I fed all the animals for u 🥺" like awh babe you shouldn't have. Really. its all automatic 🤗🤗 but thanks anyways
9K notes · View notes
mintytrifecta · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
[image description: the bugs bunny in a tuxedo "I wish all a very pleasant evening" meme edited to say "I wish all of my Jewish followers a very pleasant passover". Next to bugs is a photo of a small stack of matzo and the cup of Elijah. ]
47K notes · View notes
megatronusprimedecal · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"Always got your back." "No matter what."
Transformers One (2024)
3K notes · View notes
demaparbat-hp · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
Slow mornings in Ba Sing Se.
I needed something soft today, so here's a little sketch for @nerdylizj's breathtaking fic Forgetting is a kind of mercy.
3K notes · View notes