s9-n9t-vantastic:

teafortrouble:

eteo:

fall-for-nothing:

trickster-eridan:

buttpilgrim:

scientificperfection:

kittiesinthemorning:

I just don’t understand how this happened. But here’s a picture of a lemon from my backyard

WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK

when life gives yoǘ̻̬͓͎̣̟̩̦͢ ͪ̂̀̆҉̳̘̝̺̀l͇̬̹̞̻̥͕̥̗̒̎ͩ̋ͥ͆e͙̭̭̠̣̠̊́ͩ̂̓̀ṃ̛̍̂͛̈̏o̠̪̪ͤ͗͘n̵͉̣ͭͧ̿ͧ͛̀s̷̠͑ͬͫͦ̅͡ ̸͐ͤ͘҉̦̺M̰̹͙͇ͮ̉ͫͅȦ̻̔̅̇̑ͭ͛͋͘K̠̻̫̤̇̀ͥE͂ͪ͏̱̤͚͕ ̞͔̜̬̑ͯ͑͢ͅŞ͔̦̩̳̣̖ͮ͊ͨA͈̓͂̈́̀̀̚͘C̡̠̟͉ͪ͆̔ͤ͂ͪR̬͙͕ͪ̀͠Ĩ̵̖͚̑̊̓́F͎͕̄Iͬͧ̀̂̑ͪ͟͏̴̪̤ͅC̢̰̝͓̗͛ͬ̔̍̓́́̚̚Ḙ̶̠̰̳̩̳̊ͭͮ̇̇̚̕S̻͖̣̰̒̈͟

it’s back

Satan lemon

every villain is lemons

And finally, dear listeners, a reminder; several concerned citizens have brought to the city’s attention an irregularity surrounding this summer’s citrus harvest. City council would like to remind all enterprising fruit pickers to exercise reasonable caution when acquiring these fruits. Grasp the fruit firmly around its circumference, pull slowly but steadily to avoid damaging the tree, and under no circumstances heed its demands of you. Do not acknowledge or obey the depraved whisperings of the demon fruit.

And now, the weather

s9-n9t-vantastic:

teafortrouble:

eteo:

fall-for-nothing:

trickster-eridan:

buttpilgrim:

scientificperfection:

kittiesinthemorning:

I just don’t understand how this happened. But here’s a picture of a lemon from my backyard

WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK

when life gives yoǘ̻̬͓͎̣̟̩̦͢ ͪ̂̀̆҉̳̘̝̺̀l͇̬̹̞̻̥͕̥̗̒̎ͩ̋ͥ͆e͙̭̭̠̣̠̊́ͩ̂̓̀ṃ̛̍̂͛̈̏o̠̪̪ͤ͗͘n̵͉̣ͭͧ̿ͧ͛̀s̷̠͑ͬͫͦ̅͡ ̸͐ͤ͘҉̦̺M̰̹͙͇ͮ̉ͫͅȦ̻̔̅̇̑ͭ͛͋͘K̠̻̫̤̇̀ͥE͂ͪ͏̱̤͚͕ ̞͔̜̬̑ͯ͑͢ͅŞ͔̦̩̳̣̖ͮ͊ͨA͈̓͂̈́̀̀̚͘C̡̠̟͉ͪ͆̔ͤ͂ͪR̬͙͕ͪ̀͠Ĩ̵̖͚̑̊̓́F͎͕̄Iͬͧ̀̂̑ͪ͟͏̴̪̤ͅC̢̰̝͓̗͛ͬ̔̍̓́́̚̚Ḙ̶̠̰̳̩̳̊ͭͮ̇̇̚̕S̻͖̣̰̒̈͟

it’s back

Satan lemon

every villain is lemons

And finally, dear listeners, a reminder; several concerned citizens have brought to the city’s attention an irregularity surrounding this summer’s citrus harvest. City council would like to remind all enterprising fruit pickers to exercise reasonable caution when acquiring these fruits. Grasp the fruit firmly around its circumference, pull slowly but steadily to avoid damaging the tree, and under no circumstances heed its demands of you. Do not acknowledge or obey the depraved whisperings of the demon fruit.

And now, the weather

inkcaviness:

i just can’t decide, should i cut my hair short again or not?

Six simple rituals:

1. Drink a glass of water when you wake up. Your body loses water while you sleep, so you’re naturally dehydrated in the morning. A glass of water when you wake helps start your day fresh.

2. Define your top 3. Every morning ask yourself, “What are the top three most important tasks that I will complete today?” Prioritizes your day accordingly and don’t sleep until the Top 3 are complete.

3. The 50/10 Rule. Solo-task and do more faster by working in 50/10 increments. Use a timer to work for 50 minutes on only one important task with 10 minute breaks in between. Spend your 10 minutes getting away from your desk, going outside, calling friends, meditating, or grabbing a glass of water.

4. Move and sweat daily. Regular movement keeps us healthy and alert. It boosts energy and mood, and relieves stress.

5. Express gratitude. Gratitude fosters happiness. Each morning, think of at least five things you’re thankful for. In times of stress, pause and reflect on these things.

6. Reflect daily. Bring closure to your day through 10 minutes of reflection. Asks yourself, “What went well?” and “What needs improvement?”

SHINee in color palette - Minho . Taemin . Jonghyun . Key . Onew

thattrollwiththehorns:

mrsomnix:

thelaststarbunny:

captorvatingmituna:

ilikecomicstoo:

sigh.

This needs more notes ._.

Here I am reblogging this from myself because I think everyone who breathes needs to see it and MAKE IT STOP.

This is a joke. He interviews people and makes jokes. Calm your feministic self down.

Get out. If you honestly think that, I want you to unfollow me right now.

That guy isn’t joking, and if he is, its a god awful joke, and has no right to be supported. If he’s joking, then its an example of institutionalized misogyny in comedy that has been built up over the years and decades past, and it is not acceptable.

I am uncomfortable with those jokes, and I’m a GUY. It isn’t ok to do to ANYBODY, let alone people who are trying to enjoy a convention and cosplay a character they like. This is disgusting and shit like this needs to stop, from all angles, even someone trying to make a shitty joke.

Women are not objects, and they should not be treated as such.

If you think this guy is funny for doing that, and if you honestly think I need to calm down for being “feministic” in this issue, then you need to unfollow me, because I have no intention of stopping. And now that you’ve drawn attention to yourself with this, I highly suggest you don’t bring it up again.

In fact, I recommend you take a good long look at yourself. Take a look at how you are treated, and how other people around you are treated. If you think this is comedic and funny, you need to check yourself, because its not. If you think joking about women in such a way that demeans them and objectifies them, you need to check yourself.

And above all else, if you think someone standing up for equality of women and the cessation of this shitty behavior from EVERYONE, not just this comedian, warrants someone like YOU telling that person to “calm [their] feministic self down”, then you need to reconsider your priorities in life.

  • REASONS I DIDN'T REPLY TO YOU:
  • I was going to answer you but I got distracted by something and forgot
  • My inbox fucked up and ate the message
  • I have nothing else interesting to say
  • I suck at socializing and don't know how to reply
  • I get a lot of messages and it takes a while to get through them
  • NOT REASONS I DIDN'T REPLY TO YOU:
  • I hate you and never want to see you again

I could talk about the PE teacher in my town who was asked to resign due to his harassment of female students, who was then hired as a school bus driver for a rural route with both primary and high school students. I could talk about how, from the age of seven, I refused to wear skirts or dresses, and from the time I entered high school at 10 to when I moved at 16 I always wore bike shorts or CCC shorts under my dress, because he was not particularly subtle about the way he looked at us – and those bus steps are high. I could talk about how this was common knowledge and was never denied by any authority figure we ever raised it with, but rather we were just kind of brushed off. I could talk about how, sometimes, I was the last person on my bus in the afternoon and I was never quite sure if something bad would happen to me, even though for a long time I probably couldn’t have articulated what it was that I feared.

I could talk about how I spent ten years of my childhood believing it was perfectly normal and acceptable for a seven year old child to stop wearing her favourite clothes because a grown man she relies on to get to and from school from a relatively remote location gets a thrill from looking up her skirt.

I could talk about the art teacher at my high school who used to run his hands up and down our backs, right along the spot where your bra sits. Considering most of us were fairly new to wearing bras in the first place, this was a decidedly uncomfortable experience. I could talk about how he used to get just a little too close for comfort in the supply room. Nothing overt, nothing nameable – just enough to make you drag someone else along with you if you needed a fresh piece of paper or you ran out of ink. I could talk about how the odd comment or complaint that was made was completely handwaved, that we were told to be very careful about what we were saying, that we could get someone in a lot of trouble by “starting those kinds of rumours”, and did we really want to be responsible for that?

I could talk about the first time I was made to feel ashamed of my body, at twelve or thirteen, getting into a water fight with my stepfather and uncle in the height of summer. I could talk about my grandmother completely flipping out, talking about how disgusting it was, how grown men should be ashamed of the way they were behaving with a girl. I could talk about how she then spent the next few hours trying to convince me I was being somehow victimised, while I was mostly confused about what had taken place – it took me a long time to work it out. I could talk about the unvoiced but ever-present fear for months afterwards that my grandma would bring it up again, that she would bring it up in the wrong place or to the wrong people and that my uncle, a schoolteacher, would suffer for it.

I could talk about how that destroyed what had been a fantastic relationship with my uncle, and how, ten years later, he still won’t hug me at Christmas.

I could talk about being called a frigid bitch and a slut in the same breath in high school. I could talk about multiple instances of sitting in a big group of friends, hearing someone trying to get into someone else’s pants, starting off sweet enough but quickly descending into emotional manipulation and thinly veiled abuse. I could talk about the time I went off with someone willingly enough and being followed by someone I considered a friend, someone who would not leave no matter how many times I said “no”, who only went away when the person I was with said that he “didn’t feel like sharing”.

I could talk about the family friend who always made me feel a little bit off for no discernible reason. The one who if I was left alone in the room with him, I would always find an excuse to leave. The one time I expressed this, I was told I was being a drama queen, and that I needed to grow up and stop being so precious, that one day I was going to have to deal with people I didn’t like and I might as well get used to it. I could talk about how he never did anything untoward, never gave me any specific reason to feel unsafe – but years after I last saw him, when he was found guilty of four historical sexual assault charges, one of rape and three of indecent assault on girls under twelve, I was, for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, completely unsurprised.

I could talk about my boyfriend justifying his rape of me with “you could have fought me off if you really wanted you, you slut”. I could talk about how, when I tried to tell people, I was told I was being a nasty, spiteful, vindictive bitch. I could talk about how selfish it was of me to say such things, that he’d overcome such a hard life and was going to go on and make something of himself, who the hell was I to try and stand in his way?

I could talk about how my response to being raped was to sleep with anyone and everyone because I rationalised that if I never said no, then no one could force me. I could talk about how I have been told time and time again, by people who should know better, that this is a sign that I wasn’t really raped at all.

I could talk about how, when I finally worked up the courage to make a formal complaint of sexual harassment against my boss, I was asked why I had let it continue for so long, and what I had done to make him think his behaviour would be welcomed.

I could talk about how when a much later boss got me completely wasted at my leaving party, to the point where I couldn’t walk, and fucked me in a back alley, he waited until I was sober the next morning to tell me that he had a pregnant wife, because he heard through the grapevine that I was very strict about not sleeping with married people or straight women, and he thought I should “learn my place” and realise that I’m “not such a high and mighty bitch with a moral high ground after all”.

I could talk about these things, but I very rarely do. Since I was seven years old, I have been told that my body is not my own, that my consent is not my own, that my feelings of discomfort are not my own. I have taught myself to suppress my gut instinct upon meeting people. I have been taught to smile, to be polite, to suck it up if I feel unsafe. When I complain, I have been told I’m being irrational, oversensitive, and selfish. The underlying message is, how dare I try and ascertain any kind of control over my own body?

I should talk about it. But I don’t actually know whether I can.

— An anonymous guest post on The Lady Garden. This is the reality for so many women. #YesAllWomen (via takealookatyourlife)

gretlusky:

Precious characters. 

I hope to do something similar with Korra

greenhouseghosts:

boujiebabe:

I LOVE MINIATURES

TINY FOOD TINY FOOD TINY FOOD TINY FOOD

dealanexmachina:

miketysonismahomegurl:

has anyone posted this yet because this is pure gold

Thank you, Matilda.

dealanexmachina:

miketysonismahomegurl:

has anyone posted this yet because this is pure gold

Thank you, Matilda.

key  ~ lucifer

sourwolf:

man can’t people just dislike characters anymore just because?? like why does there always have to be some deep underlying reason other than the fact that the characters annoys the ever loving shit out of me or I don’t like their prickly little face