Pinned
Hey, how’s it going, I’m a girl now
Reblogged alesslethaldress
my last polaroid of 2020
Reblogged the1920sinpictures
Autochrome lumiere of 2 women in 1915.
Reblogged im-significant
so. my wife came downstairs just as i took a bite out of the remaining half red onion on the counter. literally within seconds of just getting away with it. i looked at her, and she looked at me, and we both sat there a moment, all frozen, beforeshe said babs, what the fuck. i tried to say i can explain but it came out as or corn explorn because such was the onion in my mouth that there was no room for words. its honestly a miracle that she understood me at all. at least, i'm assuming that she understood me because she did let me get my bearings for a few moments. a smarter man would've used that time to think up a good lie, but instead i just chewed as fast as i could because i knew i was gonna have to tell a whopper and i really wanted to be able to use big words again.
big words are instrumental to telling a whopper.
anyway, i totally ran out of time. i barely got my first swallow of onion in before she said well?, and i did at least have an empty mouth to match my empty head. but also i had no lies. so i looked her dead in the face, opened my mouth and waited, every bit as curious as her, to hear what excuse my mouth was gonna come up with.
im pregnant, said my mouth.
great job, mouth, said my brain.
mmmmm onion, said my mouth.
better you than me, said my wife. then she went upstairs. it has been two hours she still refuses to kiss me. im devastated. im shook. im crying a little, i think.
(but that might just be the onion.)
Okay but now I have to know
What was the truth??
Because it simply cannot be as obvious as “what, I like onions”
It can’t
Because that would not need a lie
I know people who eat onions like apples simply for pleasure
I don’t understand them, but they say “what, I like onions”, and we both shrug, and they carry on
Also. Was. Was the plan to eat the whole thing? Just no more half red onion? Because the alternative form of “getting away with it” was you were planning to put it back with a bite taken out of it before she came in and that is if anything more unhinged
okay so i do this thing that i call tummy tacos where i put all the ingredients to a taco in front of me, but like, separate. and then i take big bites of all of them. but just one at a time. like one big mouthful of taco chicken and then swallow and then a separate big mouthful of chopped cabbage and then swallow and then a corn tortilla and you get the idea.
(my wife considers it Barbaric. she does not approve of tummy tacos.)
but yesterday i had this idea for stomach pico de gallo there i was gonna eat an onion and then a tomato and then a jalapeno and then some cilantro. thud achieving salsa internally. but i underestimated the call of the onion. i really could give a damn about everything else after the onion. i felt the love of jesus in that onion.
and thus i fell into folly.
Babs, were you going to just rawdog a jalapeno?
no i was planning on just eating it
picky eaters fear the eaty picker.
Reblogged
For the wnip meme if you're still taking them - no idea if you've seen Leverage (and no worries if not, of course), but I'd live for your Ready For Love / IDOAG-style take on the Leverage OT3, no matter the plot. The snark! The noodle incidents! The yearning potential always inherent in established-het-couple-plus-life-partner! It would be great.
oh my gosh, this is an amazing prompt and i love leverage!!! my first thought was that it would actually be very funny to put Elliott in a close-to-identical spot as Cosmo in Ready For Love, and then, uh. this happened:
The irritating thing about Hardison and Parker—
Well, there were plenty of irritating things about Hardison, too many to name, and at least two about Parker. Hers were the way she ate when she was feeding herself (Elliott still wasn’t over the time he’d walked in on her sprinkling Frosted Flakes onto a piece of pizza. “What?” she’d said. “It’s fortified with vitamins and minerals”) and the way she threw herself into danger even when Elliott was right there to take the hit. But the most annoying thing about them as a couple was that they had no shame, about anything.
“Anniversary cruise next month,” Hardison announced when Elliott slunk into headquarters on Monday morning, nursing a headache he’d been assured was not a concussion. “You coming?”
“I—am I coming,” Elliott repeated. “To your anniversary cruise?”
“Of course he is,” said Parker, dropping upside down out of the ceiling. “We already hacked into his calendar, he’s free.”
Elliott pinched the bridge of his nose, temples pounding. There were many, many things he could’ve said just then, chief among them “Seriously, again?” or “What is your goddamn addiction to having a third wheel around?” or “Do you two get off on being fucking pined at?” or even just a classic “Dammit, Hardison.” For reasons that surpassed his own goddamn understanding, what he said was,
“Next month’s not your anniversary.”
Parker flipped and landed soundlessly on her feet. “Yes it is,” she said. “September 16.”
“No,” said Elliott, with way more patience than they deserved, “y’all got together in August. August 28th.”
Hardison blinked. “Dude, you memorized our anniversary?”
Shit. Elliott could’ve hit himself. He had no cover, for knowing something like that. No real explanation, except for how closely he watched them.
“Well, you weren’t gonna do it!” Elliott blustered.
“Hey now,” said Hardison, “I think—I think I resent that. How could you believe I’d forget one of the most important days of my life?”
“Because you just did!” snapped Elliott.
Parker appeared at Elliott’s side (literally appeared; he hadn’t tracked the approach at all) with a bottle of painkillers, which she shook meaningfully.
“What?” said Elliott.
“I think she means ‘for the headache you’re suffering through for no good damn reason,’” Hardison suggested.
“Taking too many isn’t good for you,” said Elliott.
“Pain also isn’t good for you,” said Parker, and wasn’t that the truth?
“Oh, for god’s sake, gimme that,” said Elliott, pouring out two pills and swallowing them dry.
Hardison shook his head. “Why do you even have to be macho about how you take your Tylenol?”
“At any rate, we’re booking tickets for September,” Parker reported. “Three tickets, unless you’re busy. Which you’re not.”
“Because I’m coming on your anniversary cruise,” said Elliott disbelievingly.
“There, I think he’s catching on!” said Hardison. He and Parker high-fived.
See? Fucking irritating.
(incidentally, not to ruin the reveal, but September 16 was the airdate of The Rundown Job. Parker and Hardison are counting their anniversary correctly; they're just counting a different anniversary than Elliott thinks.)
Reblogged powersandplanetaries
i love a good first contact day hand-kissing-with-tongue meme, don't get me wrong, but put that aside for just one post. i think that from a vulcan perspective there's something really precious about that moment, and to me, it even explains their (very vulcan) affection for humankind from then on.
yes, vulcans do sometimes touch hands in a sensual way, but when you think about sarek and amanda touching hands publicly in "babel," it's not a "public display of affection" in a get-a-room way. it's very affectionate, but it's a public display of affiliation.
i don't know, just imagine that you're the vulcans. you go investigate this warp signature, and you know these people have never met aliens before. first contact is a dangerous mission! these aliens (earthlings) could very likely just shoot you!
and so you land, and these new aliens tentatively approach. no shooting yet, so you give a formal gesture of respect. and this alien tries to mimic it... and then basically embraces you like you're a member of their family.
i think that would really endear me to this new species!
Reblogged toomanymouths
personally im a loyal fan of the elefuneral
Reblogged thegoatsongs
La Mode illustrée, no. 5, 29 janvier 1893, Paris. Corsage et gilet de l'Amazone no. 1. Jupe-pantalon de l'Amazone no. 1. Botte pour dame. Corset pour Amazone. Modèle de Magasins du Louvre. Amazon no. 1. avec jupe-pantalon. Amazone no. 2. Modèles de chez Mmes Coussinet-Piret, rue Richer, 43. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney