Kindergarteners learned to sign “Happy Birthday” song to Deaf custodian, Mr. James. And he was surprised 😭😭

Gosh can we start caring more about the people that are around our kids like this…. please?

fucked up how cooking and baking from scratch is viewed as a luxury…..like baking a loaf of bread or whatever is seen as something that only people with money/time can do. I’m not sure why capitalism decided to sell us the idea that we can’t make our own damn food bc it’s a special expensive thing that’s exclusive to wealthy retirees but it’s stupid as hell and it makes me angry

bread takes like max 4 ingredients counting water and sure it takes a couple hours but 80% of that is just waiting around while it does the thing and you can do other things while it’s rising/baking plus im not gonna say baking cured my depression bc it didn’t but man is it hard to feel down when you’re eating slices of fresh bread you just made yourself. feels like everything’s gonna be a little more ok than you thought. it’s good.

bread is amazing and it’s also been sold to us as something really hard to make? Every time I tell someone I made a loaf of bread I get reactions like “you made it yourself???” and “do you have a bread machine then?” I haven’t touched a bread machine in probably 10 years. You CAN make your own bread, folks, and it’s actually pretty cheap to do so. I believe the most expensive thing I needed for it was the jar of yeast. It was about $6 at the grocery store and lasted me MONTHS (just keep it in the fridge.) The packets are even cheaper. destroy capitalism. bake your own bread.

You can also make your own yeast by making a sourdough starter, so that cuts cost even more.

But you have to feed the starter daily/weekly and that means it grows quickly, but there are tons of recipes online for what to do with your excess starter. Cookies, pretzels, crackers, pancakes, waffles, you name it!!

Here’s a link to The Home Baking Association’s site. It has recipes and tips.

Make it even easier - “No-Knead Bread”. All YOU do is mix the ingredients together and wait until it’s time to heat the oven. The yeast does all the rest.

Here’s @dduane​’s first take on it and the finished product. We’ve made even more photogenic batches since.

Kneading is easy as well; either let your machine do it, or if you don’t want to or don’t have one, get hands-on. It’s like mixing two colours of Plasticine to make a third. Flatten, stretch, fold, half-turn, repeat - it takes about 10 minutes - until the gloopy conglomeration of flour, yeast, salt and water that clings to your hands at the beginning, becomes a compact ball that doesn’t stick to things and feels silky-smooth.

Here’s what before and after look like.

My Mum used to say that if you were feeling out of sorts with someone, it was good to make bread because you could transfer your annoyance into kneading the dough REALLY WELL, and both you and the bread would be better for it.

Then you put it into a bowl, cover it with cling-film and let it rise until it doubles in size, turn it out and “knock it back” (more kneading, until it’s getting back to the size it started, this means there won’t be huge “is something living in here?” holes in the bread), put it into your loaf-tin or whatever - we’ve used a regular oblong tin, a rectangular Pullman tin with a lid, a small glass casserole, an earthenware chicken roaster…

You can even use a clean terracotta flowerpot.

Let the dough rise again until it’s high enough to look like an unbaked but otherwise real loaf, then pop it in the preheated oven. On average we give ours 180°C / 355°F for 45-50 minutes. YM (and oven) MV.

Here’s some of our bread…

Here’s our default bread recipe - it takes about 3-4 hours from flour jar to cutting board depending on climate (warmer is faster) most of which is rise time and baking; hands-on mixing, kneading and knocking-back is about 20 minutes, tops, and less if using a mixer.

Here ( or indeed any of the other pics) is the finished product. This one was given an egg-wash to make it look glossy and keep the poppy-seeds in place; mostly we don’t bother with that or the slash down the middle, but all the extras were intentional as a “ready for my close-up” glamour shot.

I think any shop would be happy to have something this good-looking on their shelf. We’re happy to have it on our table.

Even if your first attempts don’t work out quite as well as you hope, you can always make something like this…

can we have more posts like this in future please? this is really useful and could help those who are struggling

…it’s not hard?………shit….I always thought it was

No knead breads are great for spoonies. Wife puts like three ingredients or maybe four ingredients in a bucket. She mixes them for a short bit. The bucket sits for like twp hours. At some point she takes about ¼ of it out and puts it in the oven. Out comes bread. Repeat every other day until bucket is empty. Repeat whole process.

This is our go-to easy to make staple for everyday meals and snacks and I can make it despite my disability.

the princess bride is exactly what a dnd campaign would look like as a movie like? the delightfully weird cast of characters with their own quirks, the strange pacing and narrative that still Works, the absolute absurdity of it all, the jumping back and forth between wanting to be serious and it being really funny, hell its even Told like a dnd story through the use of the grandfather being the one telling the story

what a fantastic fucking movie

also like the character backstories are SUCH dnd backgrounds like? “im out for revenge for my father who was killed by a guy with six fingers on one of his hands” “i bumped into a band of pirates and their leader liked me so much he ended up having me take on his title to retire”

that is the Exact shit that people come up with for dnd characters

DM: having narrowly escaped Humperdinck, you find yourselves in the dangerous Fire Swamps

Westley: do I know anything about this area? Any danger?

DM: roll a history check

Westley: 15

DM: you know of rumors of giant rats in the swamps, as well as quick sand

Westley: what do I know about the giant rats?

DM: roll nature

Westley: [nat 1] …… rodents of unusual size? I don’t think they exist

DM: hey what’s your passive perception-

@swordsandsorcerypodcast

There are actual humans on here who believe Elon Musk is the only person who can save them from climate change and what you need to understand is Elon Musk does not care about you. He doesn’t care about climate change either bc his wealth will prevent it from affecting him. Elon Musk is not designing electric cars or rocket ships he’s paying people to design toys for himself. He’s a grown man who behaves like a child and actually has the wealth to say “I want a rocket ship and a submarine and an electric car” and then exploits people into producing it for him. That’s it. He would sell you and your family for one flamethrower. He would watch your home sink into the ocean while he happily has his submarine delivered there to loot any valuables from it.

it’s also worth noting that the idea of elon musk as some kind of savior figure is something he himself went to great pains to generate- this is part of what makes his crashing and burning such an amazing spectacle. he wanted so badly for us to accept him as a messiah, but instead everyone except the most chronically gullible sees him as the slimy little parasite he is, and that tears him up inside.

He’s on record fantasizing about the children of Mars to celebrate “Musk day” and revering monolithic statues of him. He doesn’t want to get to mars to better humanity or further our abilities as a species. He wants what every other rich person wants. He wants to be God. A dictator of his own little tin-pot colony on an uninhabitable planet, running on hubris and disregard for human life, where he will be worshipped and immortalized. Frankly, with Bezos talking about funding space travel, and the article about rich folks preparing for societal collapse, it’s spelled out. All this talk about space travel isn’t for research. It isn’t for our future. It’s an escape plan. They all realized just how bad things will be if they don’t change, but that will cost their empires. So they want to take it all and run away. Even if they lose everything in the process.

it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive

like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth

thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in

it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with

men, obviously, loathed the whole affair

(1864)

(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)

(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)

(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)

it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there

and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too

(1880s)

(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)

(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)

hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement

Gonna add something as someone who’s worn a lot of period stuff for theatre:

The reason you suck at doing things in a hoop skirt is because you’re not used to doing things in a hoop skirt.

The first time I got in a Colonial-aristocracy dress I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The construction didn’t actually allow me to raise my arms all the way over my head (yes, that’s period-accurate). We had one dresser to every two women, because the only things we could put on ourselves were our tights, shifts, and first crinoline. Someone else had to lace our corsets, slip on our extra crinolines, hold our arms to balance us while a second person actually put the dresses on us like we were dolls, and do up our shoes–which we could not put on ourselves because we needed to be able to balance when the dress went on. My entire costume was almost 40 pounds (I should mention here that many of the dresses were made entirely of upholstery fabric), and I actually did not have the biggest dress in the show.

We wore our costumes for two weeks of rehearsal, which is quite a lot in university theatre. The first night we were all in dress, most of the ladies went propless because we were holding up our skirts to try and get a feel for both balance and where our feet were in comparison to where it looked like they should be. I actually fell off the stage.

By opening night? We were square-dancing in the damn things. We had one scene where our leading man needed to whistle, but he didn’t know how and I was the only one in the cast loud enough to be heard whistling from under the stage, so I was also commando-crawling underneath him at full speed trying to match his stage position–while still in the dress. And petticoats. And corset. Someone took my shoes off for that scene so I could use my toes to propel myself and I laid on a sheet so I wouldn’t get the dress dirty, but that was it–I was going full Solid Snake in a space about 18″ high, wearing a dress that covered me from collarbones to floor and weighed as much as a five-year-old child. And it worked beautifully.

These women knew how to wear these clothes. It’s a lot less “restrictive” when it’s old hat.

I have worn hoop skirts a lot, especially in summer. I still wear hoop skirts if I’m going to be at an event where I will probably be under stage lights. (For example, Vampire Ball.)

I can ride public transportation while wearing them. I can take a taxi while wearing them. I can go on rides at Disneyland while wearing them. Because I’ve practiced wearing them and twisting the rigid-but-flexible skirt bones so I can sit on them and not buffet other people with my skirts. 

Hoop skirts are awesome.

Hoop skirts are also air conditioning.  If you ever go to reenactments in the South, particularly in summer, you’ll notice a lot of ladies gently swaying in their big 1860s skirts – because it fans all the sweaty bits.  You’ll be much cooler in a polished cotton gown with full sleeves, ruffles, and hoopskirt than in a riding jacket and trousers, let me promise you!  (This is part of the reason many enslaved women also enthusiastically preferred larger skirts – they had more to do than sit in the shade, but they’d get a bit of a breeze from the hoops’ movement as they were walking.)  

They’re also – and I can’t emphasize enough how important this is – really easy to pee in.  If you’re in split-crotch drawers (which, until at least the 1890s, you were), you can take an easy promenade a few feet away from the gents and then squat down and pee in pretty much total privacy.  It gives so much freedom in travel when it’s not a problem to pee most anywhere.

People also don’t realize that corsets themselves were a HUGE HUGE IMPROVEMENT over previous support-garment styles – and if you have large breasts that don’t naturally float freely above your ribcage (which some people’s do! but it’s not that common), corsets are often an improvement over modern bras.

They hold up the breasts from underneath, taking the weight of them off your back.  Most historical corset styles don’t have shoulder straps, so you’re not bearing the weight of your breast there, either, and you can raise your arms as far as your dress’s shoulder line allows (which is the actually restrictive bit – in my 1830s dress, literally all I can do is work in my lap, but in my 1890s dress I can paddle a kayak or draw a longbow with no trouble.  Both in a full corset).  They support your back and reduce the physical effort it takes to not slouch, helping avoid back pain.  They’re rigid enough that you don’t usually have to adjust your clothing to keep it where it belongs.  They’re flexible – if you’re having a bloaty PMS day you just … don’t lace it as tightly, and if your back muscles are sore you can lace it a little tighter.  And you can undo a cup (or, y’know, not have breast cups) to nurse a baby without losing any of the structural integrity of the garment.

I do educational/historical dressing and people are really insistent, like, “The corset was invented by a man, wasn’t it?”  “Actually, women were at the forefront of changing undergarment styles throughout the 19th century!” “But it’s true that it was invented by a man.”  

Uh, well, it’s hard to say who “invented” the style but it’s very likely that women’s dressmakers mostly innovated women’s corsets and men’s tailors mostly innovated men’s corsets, honey.  Because those exist too.

Everything about all of this is accurate.

@star-anise

Yeees.

Also? These fashions are about taking up space. They’re about being loud and visible and saying HERE I AM. About saying “I’m so rich, I need someone to help me dress every morning.” And about saying, “I am not solely here for male consumption”–there’s a reason so many cartoons lampooning women’s fashion are about how hard those ladies are to kiss, and how impossible it’d be to have a quick fuck in them. (Which it actually isn’t, but that’s beside the point)

Historical women’s fashions aren’t 100% unproblematic and absolutely wonderful. They make stark class distinctions incredibly visible, because you simply cannot wear some of these dresses and keep them maintained without a private staff to do a ton of work for you. They upheld a standard of femininity a lot of women were excluded from. They limited women’s and girls’ participation in sports and athletics. 

But damn, women wore them for a reason.

A concept: An adventuring party made entirely of people of one race disguised as people of another. The disguises are really bad, like the “dwarf” is just a halfling with a fake beard, the “orc” is an elf with body paint and novelty teeth, and the dragonborn is just three goblins in a trenchcoat- but none of them have any experience with any of the races in question and are trying not to draw attention to their own disguises, so all of them are fully prepared to accept any oddity on the part of their party members.

The halfling, having just been caught taking off their beard in private so they can breathe: ….this is normal for dwarves The goblins, who were looking for somewhere private that they can crawl out of the trenchcoat: Acceptable, have a nice day

Halfling: Friend orc, I don’t mean to alarm you, but the green appears to be coming off of your skin. Onto my hand. Elf: I. Have a skin condition. Halfling, discreetly adjusting their beard: Acceptable, have a nice day

so heres a thing my mother always said to me growing up when i broke something on accident that i think is really important

and i know, from watching my friends and seeing their panic and terror when something broke, that not only were not nearly enough children told this thing, many children were punished in place of being reassured

and thats heartbreaking

so heres the words from my mom that i was always told, and theyre the same words that anyone who never got to hear them should hear now, courtesy of my mom, who has repeated those same words to many a friend of mine and now to you

if i ever broke anything, the first words out of her mouth would always be and have always been, “are you hurt?” 

i would say no

she would say, “thats okay, then”

and i would ask why

and she would say “because it was just a thing- even if its a nice thing, or an old thing, or an expensive thing, its still just a thing. it can be replaced, or we can live without it. there is only one you. there will only ever be one you. you will always be more important than just some thing.” 

I lend out a collection to fossils to my school’s 8th grade science teachers annually. I’ve collected since I was a kid, added more as an adult from yard sales and donations. I want kids to be inspired and intrigued. About my 5th year at my school, the teacher came to me with one of her students. The girl looked upset and sort of scared. The teacher explained that the girl’s hand had slipped and a Megaladon Shark’s tooth had broken into two pieces. My first response was to make sure she hadn’t been cut by one of the pieces, and she shook her head, tears in her eyes. I smiled at her and pointed out that she hadn’t dropped it on purpose, that the ridiculously big tooth had been fossilized and survived this long, and it would still be amazing if I had to either keep it in two pieces or superglue it.

It bothered me a lot that the kid was clearly primed by a lot of adults to deal with anger and blame when a simple mistake was made. I offered her a hug, which she accepted and finally laughed.

Story time: 

My grandmother owns crystal bowls that have been passed down to her from her grandmother. Being a family with Jewish heritage in Austria, every single piece of family history we own is basically a treasure in itself. I was already an adult when she allowed me to take one of them home with me, of course only after I swore several oaths to keep it safe. I can go months and years without breaking a single dish, but lo and behold, it takes two weeks and a split second of not paying attention, and suddenly that crystal bowl, that’s worth more to my grandmother than the entire rest of her furniture, goes flying and shatters into a million pieces. I swear I watched for what felt like an hour as that thing dropped, turned around itself and finally crashed in a spectacular impact. Anyway, it’s completely beyond repair, and I’m freaking out because my grandmother will murder me. Only, she will not, because even worse, she’s going to be fucking heartbroken and so, so disappointed with me she won’t even find it within herself to murder me. But, you gotta do what you gotta do - not being able to face her while confessing, I call her, in tears, apologizing a hundred times before she finally goes: “Gigi, calm down now, what happened??” “*sobbing* I- I broke your grandma’s bohooohooowl -” And my grandmother, bless that woman, starts laughing hysterically. She’s laughing so much I think, I must have broken her, that’s it, she’s lost her marbles now and it’s my fault, until she wheezes out: “Gigi that bowl survived two world wars and the Nazis but not a month in your kitchen!” and of course I fucking lost it too at that point. That’s how I learned, that in the end, it’s really all about perspective. 

Now I’m a step-mum myself and my go to reaction whenever I hear something break is to shrug and say ‘Well, it had a good run’ and then I go fetch a broom and we’ll clean up because if my grandma could laugh off a 100 year old crystal dish, I can laugh off an IKEA mug lmao

I wish my parents had done this

@tymekill we're gonna be like that

Scenes I need...

It had been a joke, a flippant line, but somehow, Loki found himself taking the youth up on it.

It was hard living around these heroic Avengers, hard trying to stay close to Thor. And when he felt his need for mischief rise too high, when he felt exasperation with these Midgardians turn too close to spite, he would casually say “Six.” to the young man, or sometimes “Seven.”

And Peter would spend the rest of his day with Loki. He would badger him with questions about magic, or drag him across his beloved city to see its entertainments, or take him along stopping petty crimes. He grounded Loki to the here and now, and distracted him from the churning, jagged shards of ice in his mind.

WE NEED LOKI AND PETER FICS

Stark’s brat had a system. It had been amusing, at first glance, especially when “killing puppies” was apparently a higher level of evil than trying to take over the world. It had risen and fallen - two, five, one. There were honestly good days.

It took some time before a truly bad day came up.

After a difficult battle, the Captain was being particularly sanctimonious, his team following suit. Even Stark made biting comments.

Loki could scream.

“Spider-man,” he said as calmly as he could. The young man glanced up, having been tying up some of their enemies a few yards away.

“Seven.”

“… okay, guys, I’m going to head out with Loki for the rest of the day. Don’t need us for debrief, yeah?”

“Sure,” Stark shrugged, glancing between the two of them oddly. Loki wasn’t entirely sure what the plan was. They went in civilian clothes to a small café.

“I wasn’t paying attention, so whatever was said, I don’t agree,” Peter began. “But that’s not what I’m here for. So. When you teleport, how does that work? Is it harder with longer distances? Or is knowledge of the place more helpful?” Loki blinked, but explained. It led to a discussion of magical theory. Peter (Loki still called him Parker aloud, but the child and even his young friends grew on him in time) was eager and curious, comparing what he knew from Strange and fantasy books to Loki’s knowledge. It was admittedly fascinating to see how many versions of sorcery humans had created by mere imagination. He was definitely amused by the elves and dwarves of Lord of the Rings.

Sometimes Peter tentatively asked about Strange and Maximoff, if they were doing similar things. Never if Loki was at an 8 or above though.

“Strange is like a child prodigy. He’s good, picks the practical parts up well. He even got the jump on me - but he has not had as much time to study as me. He’s a student where I am a master. Maximoff is incredibly powerful and incredibly lucky, but she does not have much training at all.” Sometimes conversation turned to music, animals, current events.

Peter was good. It was odd, how Loki became so sure of the fact so quickly.

After the conversations, often accompanied with food or a walk, he was always down to a 3 or so. Which made Peter an important person.

So the next time Peter was in trouble and the Avengers were indisposed, Loki was not the least bit surprised that he was not the only one ready to tear someone apart for the kid. Two men in red - one with horns, one with guns and swords - a young girl with cat-shaped blasters on her hands, and the Captain’s assassin friend. Loki curled his lips and muttered:

“For anyone that harms you? 10.”

IT GOT MORE SINCE THE LAST TIME I SAW IT AND IM IN LOVE

also, the fact we get Daredevil, Deadpool, Shuri, and James teaming up with Loki to protect Peter? I AM HERE FOR ALL THIS HELLS YES

(I thought I didn’t have anything to add but I do)

It was just after noon on a Saturday when Loki got a text from Peter, all it said was 

‘8, I’m at home′

Peter had never used their number system for himself before.

Loki had promised the boy’s aunt he would not teleport into their home and while he’d had every intention of honouring that promise, this was definitely an exception.

When Loki materialized in Peter’s room, his friend was pacing, angry and red-faced. Loki had never seen Peter furious before.

Peter began shouting when he saw Loki, ‘Men are scum! Irredeemable, horrible, crappy, scummy scum!’

‘Thank you for telling me, Peter.’ Loki said, sitting down on Peter’s bed. ‘Any particular men inspiring this diatribe?’

Peter grabbed a pillow off his bed and screamed into it, ‘There’s a guy at Aunt May’s work who’s harassing her and she says I need to stay out of it and let Human Resources do their jobs and he’s a creep and he’s making May feel creeped out and… I don’t know what to do.’

Loki blinked. Of all the people Peter could have gone to, he had chose Loki.

‘Thank you, for telling me this. Although I’m not sure how I can be of help.’

Peter flopped down onto the bed next to Loki, ‘You’re my friend and you’re an adult. And I wasn’t sure who else to talk to.’

Loki flopped back next to Peter, it seemed appropriate. ‘If Human Resources doesn’t sort this out to your satisfaction, I can turn this person into a goat.’

Peter giggled, ‘An ugly, stupid goat?’

‘Any kind of goat you like,’ Loki replied.

One afternoon, Loki had found himself in Avengers tower, waiting for Thor to be done with some training thing with the Captain or whatnot. He’d tried watching for a while but had soon got bored and went for a wander. Stark had angrily shooed him out of the labs, similar had happened when he visited Ms. Potts, so now he found himself headed to the lounge shared among all the avengers. Next to the counter, glaring into a cup of coffee, was the assassin, the Winter Soldier, otherwise known as Bucky Barnes. He looked about two seconds away from actually breaking the coffee mug and it made Loki pause. He’d seen the soldier and Peter speaking before, Peter doing his usual babble and question asking, and the soldier answering in a gentle voice while the various plates of his arm seemed to visibly flatten down as they conversed. So, he took a chance. Approaching, he let the assassin hear him on his way to the coffee making contraption he’d learned how to work. He set it to making his drink, one he didn’t really have intention of drinking. “What number?” Bucky blinked at Loki in alarm. He’d known the Asgardian had been there, but hearing Peter’s words in another person’s voice was disturbing. Even more so was that he felt himself answering. “Eight, bordering on nine.” Loki nodded with understanding, and contemplated for barely a moment. “Should I fetch Parker here for you? I believe he is in school right now, though may have started his food period.” “… Yeah. I… Yeah.” He tensed as the Asguardian simply disappeared with a small pop, and tensed again as he reappeared, an elated looking Peter babbling about magic and how exciting the trip had been. He silenced as soon as he saw Bucky, gave Loki a solemn nod, and set to making two mugs of hot chocolate. Drinks made, he lead the soldier off to the balcony and closed the glass panel door, shutting off the sound. Loki -almost- smiled to himself. “Minus one.”

One of my favorite scenes from Letterkenny

This show hurts my brain

Can’t blame you, it’s like a shakespearian comedy about nothing, sped up, with the Middle English replaced by equally obfuscatory Albertan slang.

Excuse you that ain’t Albertan that’s the wrong coast. It’s Ontario slang.

DO YOU WANNA GET STRIKED

Why Don’t You Do Right by Peggy Lee except you’re playing it inside a warzone bunker, hoping to drown out the sounds of gunfire and explosions from above ground.

sick! of not living in a cottage with the love of my life and our several large dogs!

Okay I used to HATE roses as a symbol of romance and shit or whatever until I learned why they’re signs of love bc it’s the most metal creation myth of all time

Well ok have y’all ever heard of the goddess of love Aphrodite?

So in greek mythology, all of the roses were white. all of em with no exception. white. remember this detail, it’s important to the story

so basically one day, our local love bitch Aphrodite was bragging to the other gods about how she could make anyone fall in love with anyone, because she was the goddess of love, and everyone got kind of irked with her bragging bc it was annoying, and Zeus (in his Zeus way) decided to pull a BIG PRANK on Aphrodite by making her fall in love w this mortal named Adonis. Adonis was a hunter, and this made Aphrodite CRAZY because hunting is super dangerous, and she was thirsty for Adonis right & she didn’t want him to die. EXCEPT therein lies the prank, bc Zeus MADE Adonis get gored by a wild boar (rip) and he died.

and here’s where the thing with the red roses come in. Bc all the roses are white, right? And right as Adonis was about to die, Aphrodite SWOOPED DOWN FROM THE HEAVENS in a golden chariot pulled by swans on a slide made of clouds (a cloud slide). as she rushed to his side, Aphrodite pricked her foot on a rose thorn and her blood landed on the petals of the rose, and all of the roses around her became red with her blood as she mourned for her dead lover who was killed in the hunt by a violent wild boar, all bc Zeus wanted Aphrodite to stop boasting.

tl;dr: red roses are a sign of romance bc they were originally white, but the red ones are red because they’re dipped in the blood of the goddess Aphrodite as she mourned the death of her lover

Here, have this bouquet of “Zeus Is a Dick” flowers.

Zeus you fucking asshole

Zeus should not be allowed to ‘prank’ people. End of story

fun fact: crows are actually black for a similar reason!

apollo and the west wind god zephyrus were fighting over this mortal guy hyacinth. apollo was playing discus one day (as he was prone to do as essentially the god of sports) and zephyr redirected the wind so that it hit hyacinth in the head, killing him instantly. 

a few days later, apollo was conversing with the birds (as the god of prophecy/oracles) and a crow (carrion bird, an augury) informed him of hyacinth’s death. apollo’s sorrow darkened the then-white bird’s feathers and the feathers of all the birds of its kind. (also apollo named the flower after hyacinth)

greek gods are kinda assholes :///

Mesmerized 😃

Are those blades???

Yes and no. Those are Buugeng (buugong?) An ancient style of bo-staff that was used in combat as well as dances. Basically the idea behind them was that they’re effectively unblockable. By the time your mind has processed where the blade/shaft was, it was already cutting you in half.

This is how far into the earth humans have dug so far.

perspective

rosa diaz’ biconic outfits (3/?)

long live the king…

–Neil Gaiman