#Anonyme
Text
À l'anonyme qui m'a envoyé un message si outrageant que je veux même pas lui donner de visibilité en le publiant :
Je le précise parce que tu sembles t'en servir comme argument (?) pour que je t'écoute, le fait que tu me suives sur tumblr depuis longtemps et que tu apprécies mes avatars ne te donne aucun droit pour me conseiller sur le contenu que je poste ou reblog ici. Dans ma tête ça coule de source, mais à priori pas pour tout le monde. On est pas pote, je te connais pas, si t'es pas content·e, le bouton "se désabonner" est à ta portée. Je peux que t'encourager à cliquer dessus tho, les gens malintentionnés je veux pas les voir dans mes mentions.
Si t'as un quelconque problème avec un·e créateur·ice, c'est pas en lui taillant une réputation chez d'autres créateurs·ices que tu vas le régler. Si tu ne tiens pas à le régler, et si le comportement en question n'est pas dangereux mais relève bien de façons de communiquer différentes, trace ta route, ne lui parle pas ? Je sais pas où tu t'es cru·e, genre vraiment je n'arrive pas à concevoir de quelle façon tu t'es senti·e suffisamment à l'aise pour venir me parler d'un comportement 100% subjectif (que tu juges, je cite, "condescendant" et "malaisant") basé sur aucune preuve, comme si on se connaissait, comme si ça me concernait et que ta parole faisait office de vérité absolue, pour discréditer quelqu'un qui n'a rien demandé. Juste hallucinant comme démarche, je rêve.
L'image que tu dépeins de cette personne n'a rien à voir ni avec celle que je constate depuis plusieurs années, ni avec celle que les gens rapportent après l'avoir côtoyée. Gentle reminder qu'on a pas tous la même façon de communiquer, surtout à l'écrit, et que le fait de ne pas mettre d'émojis dans un message ou de caler des points à la fin d'une phrase ça ne fait pas de quelqu'un une personne condescendante. Je suis bien placée pour le savoir, je staffe depuis des années, des gens qui me jugent moi ou encore mes co-admins "froides" ou "inaccessibles" au premier abord, j'en ai vu passer.
Cracher sur le dos d'une personne qui offre de son temps et de sa créativité gratuitement en faisant passer l'action comme un avertissement à un comportement problématique, c'est vraiment pas le smart move que tu penses que c'est. Après ça s'étonne que la commu FR se meurt, pour des gens qui lisent et écrivent autant y'en a trop peu qui savent s'exprimer pour communiquer un problème, ça me dépasse. Arrêtez d'alimenter de la haine gratos comme ça, grandissez, touchez de l'herbe, jsp.
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For the au headcannon game can you do young parents galex au ??
send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons a short ficlet about it <3
*waves hands* i really like this premise, i made myself cry thinking about a long winding plot involving it, but for now have whatever this ended up being!
George misses the tube for a split second. He stops dead in his tracks a few centimetres off the gap as the doors slam shut and the formation gets moving. He takes a glance at his watch, shaking his arm to push it from under his sweater. Ok, he still has twenty minutes. George takes a deep breath, buys a bottle of water on his way out of the station and prepares mentally to run a marathon across the city in the quickest time possible.
Avoiding an old lady and a fruit stall, two cars almost run him over, he has to stop for a moment to take his breath, then keeps pushing past lines of people, cars and others forms of being yelling not so nice expletives at him when he makes contact with elbows, shoulders or bag.
When he arrives, just six minutes past 1pm, George takes a deep breath and crouches by the school’s gates. He takes account of himself, backpack, watch, phone in the front pocket of his trousers, oyster card, hair stuck to his forehead, matted and gross, mouth dry and lungs burning like hell. Behind the gates, he spots the kind teacher with the floppy blonde hair and Abbi, sitting over her little backpack, probably crushing what remains of her lunch and her water bottle.
“Hi daddy!” She yells as soon as she spots him. The lovingly crafted double ponytail George had painstakingly worked to get at even height is now sitting in perpendicular lines, one closer to her neck than to the top of her hair, and there is a little paint splat marking on the bottom of her uniform. Alright. Could be worse.
“Hi Abbi,” he says, exhaling through a smile as he gives the teacher an apologetic look and a short explanation of the hazardous run he did to reach her.
They take their leave in the train just shy of 1:30pm, Abbi sitting on his lap as she tells the events of her morning in school. She’s turning seven in under a month and George feels exhausted but so gratified whenever he gets to see her beautiful smile, gap tooth and all, glow in the shitty light of the tube.
“Is Alex going to make food?” Abbi asks, despite she having already had a meal, she had a bento box in her backpack, but it was only half eaten so George supposes it’s fair she’s hungry.
“If you ask nicely, maybe,” he responds, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair.
George started dating Alex when Abbi was nearly two years old. It was almost immediately clear that Alex felt an unparalleled fondness for the little girl, buying her clothes and toys, taking her by the hand when George had busy hands, taking her out of the house on days when George was stressing over work and life in general, trying to make ends meet. By the time she turned four they were living together under the same room in a small house not too far from the Seven Sisters tube station, Alex insisting his house was so boring and empty and George and Abbi could bring some life to it.
Now there is a wall covered with portraits they have taken over the years, the markings of each of Abbi’s birthdays littering the lower part of the kitchen’s door frame, George spilled wine they haven’t quite managed to get off the carpet of the bedroom that one night Alex suggested they could tie the knot, a new shelf filled with George’s design books, Abbi’s bedtime stories, Alex’s spice collection in a small cupboard just shy of Abbi’s snacks and George’s gym supplements.
George puts Abbi on top of his shoulders the moment they make it out of the station. The sky is a bit grey, but what’s new in London? Out across the street, he spots a familiar face, with a puffy winter jacket and a lollipop.
“Alex!” Abbi screams, so loud it makes George’s drums cry out in pain.
Alex waves at them and crosses the street, picking Abbi off George’s shoulders and giving her a big, crushing bear hug that makes the little girl shriek and laugh. When he puts her down, holding her little hand ever so tightly, he leans over to George.
“Rough day at the office, I reckon?”
And, yeah, George looks a bit of a mess, sweaty and smelly.
“Sort of,” he says, sighing dramatically. Alex puts a hand on his sticky face, leans in close and presses their lips together in the lightest but no less filled with sentiment of kisses.
“I made some grilled pork, maybe that’ll cheer you up.”
George smiles. Yeah, that’ll do it.
#anonyme#fic asks#galex#i really think i could go insane and write like a good long fic about this#but first the other fic needs to get done lol
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Now you’re responsible for a pet cat you should really get that cat spayed, he’ll be really annoying when he’s in heat and he won’t piss on everything
Thank you for your advice! I will certainly consider it.
@trauma-and-truffles, would you be able to do that? Merci.
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I don't know why any of this happened or why it happened to these specific people. But I know that in honour of those that are no longer with us and in honour of the survivors and the hostages - we will continue to live and we will thrive being every bit as Jewish as possible. We will be the very thing that we were murdered and attacked for - we will be Jewish, we will live in spite of those trying to erase us, there is no greater agony to these people then our existence and our success and our joy. It really is true that we have the resilience and strength from all of our ancestors built into us. It's ok to struggle and feel hopeless and feel guilty - just know that you and all of us will get back up again and we will be ok.
Thank you ❤️🩹❤️🩹I needed to hear this.
I see the hostages as my family even though I don’t know any of them personally and it hurts so much to know they are suffering😢
Sometimes I feel like the resiliency gene skipped over me.
#Israel#October 7#jumblr#Judaism#Jewish#la tristesse#nice people#hostages#ask#asks#anon#anons#anonyme#anonymous
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“Le scandale et les échecs font des nouvelles, mais seulement le succès fait l'histoire.” 📰
Anonyme
Gif Ezgif
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#japan#street#streetview#style#ギャル#日本#2000s#anonyme#girls#kogyaru#gyaru#fashion#gyaru style#lose socks#harajuku#gyaru gal#gyaru fashion#japanstyle
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Wait a minute. From the british ask, are you implying people should ship you and wellington then?
I am not implying anything of the sort. I am just saying that if this... relationship theorising is at all based on matters of fact and record, I have had more interactions with the Duke of Wellington than the Emperor did. As such, it would be more accurate to call the Duke of Wellington my adversary than the Emperor's.
Or, for that matter, if not me, then Marshals Ney, Massena, Marmont and others would be viable alternatives for this... ship.
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So random question, bracelet plying is like my favorite way to ply but I’m interested in making some wool into a 4ply
I was thinking I’d just go through the bracelet plying process twice (if that makes sense), and I think I’ve seen you mention you’ve done that before?
I just wanted to ask about the twist direction.
Like, obviously if I do the singles in an S-Twist then I’ll ply in a Z-Twist. But if I ply it again, would I still do a Z-Twist? Or would I go back to an S-Twist? I feel like doing Z a second time would just get it over twisted super quickly but idk.
Just wondering, you’re one of the only people who I can remember seeing do that so I thought I’d ask (I’m always delighted by your posts)
Have a nice day, hope you’re doing well!
(Also I love cocks and balls and such)
Hi ! I have done that a fair few times yeah :) it works very well to make a 4 ply. You can make a cabled 4 ply by making a bracelet and plying it, then making the resulting yarn into another bracelet and plying it again.
Or you can make a laid 4 ply (the actual term is probably traditional 4 ply ? Dont remember; i always call it laid) by winding one bracelet and then (without plying) taking both ends and winding those into a new bracelet that is made of 4 plies, and then plying that.
Re: your question, each time you ply you will want to change the ply direction. So, your singles might be spun Z, then 2 plied S, then 4 plied Z. Just alternate each time.
And thank you ! :D
#ask#anonyme#spinning#i have so many asks to answer sorry about that !#i can only rly answer them on my phone so the more complicated ones are really hard to do rn#hope to get to them soon tho
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Ici s’achève ma chanson
pour moi toute joie est finie,
car j’ai — plantée dedans mon corps,
et fichée au fond de mon coeur —
une racine
que nul ne peut déraciner.
Amour m’a prise en haine cruelle
parce que j’aime
et j’ai bu du breuvage amer
dont but un jour Iseut la reine.
Anonyme, Anthologie de la poésie féminine
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Photographe anonyme. La cigale. Vers 1900. Cyanotype.
galerie lumiere des roses / Paris photo 2022
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you are such a hater
thank you, it's a full time job
#anonyme#im actually not but people make me a hater with their shitty takes#everyone is entitled to their own opinions EVEN WHEN THEY ARE WRONG
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#nonchalante#desinvolte#noir et blanc#anonyme#black and white#photo#tumblr girl#parisienne#uggs#mirror
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🪄This letter turns you into the opposite gender, and will wear off in whatever way you see fit!🪄
Alright. The Jomini situation has been sorted out. Time to return to work. Look, a letter.
—————
Oh. What the actual… *takes a deep breath* I suppose I can be grateful that I am still a human being, right.
Goodness, this fits weird. *he… or she? had to unbutton his uniform coat a bit* I don’t want to get a new uniform.
Levavasseur: Marshal, I have looked into… Marshal? You look…
Yeah, like a woman. Thank fuck it’s not a tortoise. I guess that’s what I get for almost spaying the Duke of Dalmatia, right.
She is trying to make a joke, while feeling so uneasy. Especially when looking at Levavasseur, now seeming even taller and stronger.
Levavasseur: We should talk about your sense of humour.
Later. Now I need your help. I have, uh… certain fitting difficulties. I have an idea, but I need some lacing *she took off the jacket and pointed at the 1790s stays on the bed*
My… eh. Former lover used to wear this, it was good under a uniform but I can’t lace this up myself. So if you were so kind. Just don’t pull too tight, I would like to breathe. Here, it should go over the shirt.
Levavasseur: *He is trying so hard not to stare. The Marshal was appealing as a man, but now…* Alright. I will help you. But maybe you shouldn’t really wear uniforms now when you are…
Shut up, Octave, it is still me. I won’t wear a gown and learn embroidery just because of this magic.
Levavasseur: alright… I… just.
*Ney hit her chest, now securely laced in the stays* oh look, it is so hard. It feels like armour. Now nobody can shoot me!
Levavasseur: We should really talk about your sense of humour.
#event: la princesse de la Moskowa#communication personnelle du maréchal#anonyme#levavasseur#meine adjutanten sind idioten#les portraits du maréchal
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Sending you some good Jewish vibes
Shabbat shalom!!
Thank you!💗 Shabbat Shalom!
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