#i know this by heart

[degeneratepurring]

🛑 stop ⛔🚫 what 🫵 you are doing 💥🤯 the internet 💻👾 has taken control ✨ of the bbc 📡📺 coming out 🌈 of your speakers 🔊🎧 and streamed live 📹🖱️ on the radio 1 website 🖥️ a show unlike anything 🥇 that has ever been created 💡 a show completely controlled by you 🫵 are you ready to take charge 💪 of the radio 📻 go to bbc.co.uk/radio1 now ⚠️ and prepare your minds 🧠 and bodies 😳 for dan and phil 👬

[pudgy-planets]

64, 64, 64 Zoo Lane.

64, 64, 64 Zoo Lane.

There’s one with a hump, and one who can jump, and one who is, well a little bit plump!

64, 64, 64 Zoo Lane.

Some like it hot and some like it chilly, and some like it both ways and that’s a bit silly!

64, 64, 64 Zoo Lane.

Some are friendly, some are scary, but one thing is sure not one is ordinary.

64, 64, 64 Zoo Lane.

Some are spotty, some are stripy, and prickly, and wooly, and furry and slimy! Some are quite big and some very small, and the last ones Georgina whos incredibly tallllll.

[feluka]

oh god shut up. you didn't even know the damn kid.

"The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe, and I am beginning to suspect that whoever is incapable of recognizing this may be incapable of morality." — James Baldwin

[hamletthedane]

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.

[obsob]

i am a being capable of immeasurable love and whimsy

[retquits]

save me winter elliott stardew valley... winter elliott stardew valley save me......

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

I just wanna say bc I KNOW you're somewhere on tumblr, to the teenage girl who attended Take Your Kid To Work Day at an office building in Ontario, Canada circa 2013 and had a conversation with a middle aged woman in which you showed her your Black Veil Brides fanart and fanfics and ship content and told her about different fanfic tropes including a/b/o verse bc she happened to know who Panic! at The Disco and Fallout Boy were and thus you felt the need to show her your bandblr ship art, that was my fucking mother and I had to clarify all that to her including looking my mother in the eye and trying to explain a/b/o verse without sounding like a lunatic.

It's been 10 years and I still regularly sent evil energies in your direction. Since you'd be probably two years younger than me and thus legally an adult now, please know if this post reaches you it's on sight.

[malinaa]

if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

[1alchemistart]

dont got much to offer for The Holiday but have these sillies!

happy valentines day :D

[amikoroyaiart]

Some 22 and 09 angst doodles

[hoshizoralone]

useless lesbian and her beloved children

[alfheimr]

the L in law stands for LOVED...its his birthday:)

[cactle]

POV: You’re watching the marineford live stream

[chloesimaginationthings]

Will the real FNAF Helpy please stand up?..

[aarchimedes]

for context: I read the hobbit first over the course of two years when I was like 13, but I'm only now starting to read lotr. having a blast tho!

anyways, reblog if you feel like it 🙌🏻

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Thistle Debut Day!