I just received a large brass coin with an emblem of a cartoon rat on it in the mail. It was literally the only thing in the envelope – there wasn't even an explanatory card. I presume this is a reward from one of the several dozen crowdfunded tabletop RPGs I've backed over the course of the past decade, but I genuinely have no recollection which – if any – of them it might be, so it's honestly all a bit sinister.

the idealized version of my tomorrow self will fix this

I'm curious! If you have reasons, put them in the replies and reblogs.

Anyway if you see this you have to reblog and tag with a delight from ur day -- even the littlest thing counts

Me scrolling through Tumblr right after listening to Hozier:

“…and the first time that you booped me, I drank dry the River Lethe…”

you can only reblog this today

🗡️

(in case you need a knife in the next two days for reasons unrelated to political assassinations)

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

reblog if you remember what it felt like to walk into blockbuster

Oh hell yes please please please.

reblog to cast level 5 spell: everyone who reads this gets a full night sleep

You died on a Saturday in February.

In the two years of days since that warm winter day, the war that began just as you left us continues, while another has started. There have been floods and wildfires, political machinations, multiple civil trials of a former president (while criminal trials loom), and even a conspiracy theory involving professional football and a pop star you probably never heard of.

In the two years of days since that warm winter day, I grew my hair, chopped it off again, and dyed it copper. (Sometimes, I think I look good. Sometimes, I think I look like the little kid from Love Actually…a reference you wouldn't get, but that’s okay). I'm trying to learn Spanish for the...fourth?...time, and I keep thinking I'm getting good at it and then someone really speaks Spanish and I panic.

In the two years of days since that warm winter day, I mailed my spit to a lab, got back ancestry results from my DNA, and started building my family tree. I think you'd find that bemusing but kind of cool. I say I did it to prove Mom wrong when she claims we've got Maori heritage (she is wrong, and I bet you're not remotely surprised), but the truth is more that I wanted to know where you came from; who your people were. You didn't talk about your family. You never said that the men in your family were often doctors; never mentioned that the roots of your family tree were firmly planted in Maine and went as far back as the Revolutionary War. Did you even know, I wonder? I always got the impression that you wanted to leave the past in the past, and I respect that, but--for me--knowing the past brings me a little closer to you.

We weren't very close, you and I. I wasn't a "daddy's girl." I was too self-reliant (a good word for closed-off, yeah?), and you were too driven (a good word for workaholic, right?). Even so, I think of you, and I cherish having known you. I remember you, as another Saturday in another February comes and goes.

This is not my usual sort of post, but I wanted to share one of my favorite paintings! -> Fyi, this painting makes me cry every time.

But, this is "The Execution of Lady Jane Grey", by Paul Delaroche, showing a dramatization of Lady Jane Grey's execution, completed in 1833, during the romantic period. In short, Lady Jane Grey was appointed Queen in 1554, only to be executed 9 days later under charges of treason by Mary Tudor.

Lady Jane Grey was only 17 at the time of her execution.

What gets me most about this painting is the subtle show of both sadness, but also the uncertainty everyone in the scene has. The gentleness of the Lieutenant's touch as he guides her to the block:

The outstretched hands, blind to everything around her, and unsure about where she is meant to be:

Her ladies in waiting, one who sobs with Lady Jane's clothing on her lap, and one who can't even bear to face the scene, having been the nursemaid of her childhood:

And perhaps most peculiar of all, the executioner staying back, allowing Lady Jane Grey the time needed to get her footing, with patience and an air of understanding:

Thanks to anyone who read this, I know it's not the usual, but I do truly adore this piece <3

Obviously everyone should be an organ donor because your final act of compassion on this planet can leave an indelible mark on thousands of people by the act of saving a single life, but also there is the reasonable possibility that your eyes will continue to see lizards after your death and why tf would you not opt in to that?

I mean, it can’t hurt. I hope.

Come on down to the most endangered habitat on Earth

We've got Disgruntled Cat™

Glup Shitto

Actual gerbils

Craig the Bone-Eater

And whatever is going on here

The Steppe

We've got it all