ninjagoforever

[ninjagoforever]

knowledge long forgotten

got really into reading item descriptions on this playthrough. anyway did you know the silent princess is one of the only raw materials with a cooking effect to not explicitly list that effect in its description

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[ninjagoforever]

Zelda Reacts Part 8

shoutout to that one person who said something about Link in knights armour and being extra chivalrous - it never left my head and here we are XD

Part 7: Dark Link <<<

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Spin this wheel first and then this wheel second to generate the title of a YA fantasy novel!

(If the second wheel lands on an option ending with a plus sign, spin it again)

Share what you got!

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Oscar de la Renta: 'Crafted like a mosaic, discover the making-of the #odlrfall2024 stained glass gown — ushering in a a new House-signature embroidery technique.'

Constructed from hundreds of polyamide panes, hand-sewn together in an Art Nouveau style reminiscent of Tiffany glass. Ready-to-wear: £36,546.

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Nerd and Jock Ep 294

Twitter   Instagram   Patreon

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”This is Bob”

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yeah. I had made a ravio design concept. Behold. Shes just as flat as link is but less fine with it.

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Until we reached the point, somewhere in the 20th century that we could reproduce nearly any kind of lace mechanically, the use of lace in any quantity was a easy way to assess the relative wealth of a person. Since the development of machine laces of wide variety, its immediate psychological and social effect has been diminished.

In 1865 when this superb ball gown was created, a few laces, most notably Chantilly lace, were becoming increasingly available. The lace we see in use here, however, is hand made. Draped in deep swags around the widest point of the skirt, there are clearly several yards of this lace in use. We are looking at the work of probably a number of lace makers working in tandem over a period of months to complete this.

Coming from our perspective in the 21st century it is hard to gauge how profound an impact this would have had on those who saw this at a ball somewhere. Anyone with any interest of knowledge of dress whatever would have instantly known just how very costly this gown was.

The dress is made of as shell pink silk moiré. The huge, slightly trained skirt has its volume controlled to the waist with a series of wide box pleats. The lace swags are held at the top with matching moiré bows. The neckline and sleeves of the bodice are decorated with cotton netting that has been ruched and held in position with narrow bands of the moiré. There is also a gathered band of lace to complete the look.

Collection of the Hallwylska Museet.

Posted by Attire's Mind on FB

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pnf revival challenge day 4: driver’s license!

Hosted by @howtonerdoutovereverything!✨

I wanted to add a page where they get pulled over by cops but ironically I spent 10 hours driving myself today and I’m falling asleep at my desk kfbshckm anyway here’s a bonus meme:

[ninjagoforever]

still thinking about that r/hypotheticalsituation post where someone was like "what if a potato chip spawned somewhere randomly in the world. and every hour the number of potato chips at that location would double. and the only way to get rid of them for good would be to eat all of the potato chips before they doubled again." and someone calculated that it would only take like, 48 hours of people ignoring a weird pile of potato chips before an absolutely irreconcilable number of potato chips was blanketing a city.

and then people were like "no wait if it spawns randomly in the world, it's highly likely it would be in an ocean" and then people were debating whether there were enough small fish swimming at the surface in the open ocean that would be able to eat a potato chip and thus save humanity from the potato chip apocalypse.

[ninjagoforever]

I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

[ninjagoforever]

What I really want to know is why knitting patterns always say 'break yarn' like I'm going to bite it off or snap it in half with my rippling biceps or something. I knit for a hobby I'm about as domesticated as a guy can get I'm going to snip it with my safety scissors.

[ninjagoforever]

But

but

I live here

The three certainties in life are death, taxes, and ant invasions can I please live in ONE house that doesn't have an ant colony somewhere in the walls I swear to-

[ninjagoforever]

The three certainties in life are death, taxes, and ant invasions can I please live in ONE house that doesn't have an ant colony somewhere in the walls I swear to-

[ninjagoforever]

#it's MY story#no one's allowed to screw it up other than ME

On the one hand, I wish that someone would write my story for me

On the other hand, they’d do it Wrong™️