sexhaver:

the craziest part about Twitter imploding has been the mindboggling speed that it’s happening at. i hate Elon as much as the next guy, but a few weeks ago i was still telling myself that like. okay, sure, he’s an idiot, but it’s not like the CEO personally has his hands on every aspect of the business, right? he might kill Twitter eventually, but it’ll be a death by a thousand cuts as he slowly introduces useless and hated new features. he would have to actively TRY to kill the company as soon as he takes over to truly do something disastrous.

and then within 12 hours of the deal going through he’s fired half the company and a few days later he’s down to like 15% of the original workforce, none of which know how to do things like “reboot the servers” or “send out paychecks” or “not be in flagrant violation of legally binding federal agreements with the FTC”. fucking incredible. this is like watching your drunk cousin light a firecracker at your 4th of July cookout, and you’re worried he’s gonna try to throw it and might fuck up by holding onto it too long and blowing his hand off, but before you can say anything, he swallows it instead

(via soupwife)

captain-trash-cannot:

yeet-motherfucker:

persitentmanlyagitation:

orphanblaque:

chikxulub:

me: haha oh god this is so bad im making so many unsupported claims and pulling all this analysis out of my ass

my prof in the margins: excellent analysis!

me: 

when i was in high school i used to write my papers thinking wow i’m just bullshitting all of this. then like a week before my senior year ended after all the grades were set, i was talking to my english teacher and told him you know i just bullshitted every paper i wrote. he told me that while i may have thought i was just pulling it all out of my ass, i genuinely knew what i was talking about and made well-supported analyses. i only thought i was bullshitting because it didn’t take much effort and it all seemed obvious to me. if you do well on your essays even though you think you’re just making it up as you go, chances are you’re not pulling it out of your ass. you’re just a genuinely talented analyst, even if the analysis that you’re making comes from a subconscious understanding of the material rather than a conscious effort to study it. give yourself some credit. 

anything you pull out of your ass had to get there somehow

Anything you pull out of your ass had to get there somehow

(via characterlimit)

thelittleblackfox:

poetry-protest-pornography:

stevviefox:

brunhiddensmusings:

kiwilemonteanonsense:

brownalistair:

This thread is a few years old but it bears repeating. I’m tired of being treated as if I am invisible. Listen to Jewish voices when we talk about fascism. I am begging you.

The widely accepted nonviolent approach to nazis has, in fact, lead to a dramatic increase in the number of nazis in recent years.

if you allow them to speak, to give them a platform as though their oppinions are valid or equal, they have already partially won, and they have already made very clear what their goals are if they win

Fucking punch nazis. Their ideals are destroy others who are not nazis. Don’t defend them with niceties. They are disgusting. Punch them.

Punch a Nazi. If you’re lucky enough to not have a personal connection to the horrors of the Holocaust, then do it for Ruth.

As a Romani I can wholeheartedly say: punch every Nazi. Punch them every fucking time

(via a-wild-haggis)

is-the-post-reliable:

robotlyra:

jenroses:

heavyweightheart:

Research has shown that pleasure affects nutrient absorption. In a 1970s study of Swedish and Thai women, it was found that when the Thai women were eating their own (preferred) cuisine, they absorbed about 50% more iron from the meal than they did from eating the unfamiliar Swedish food. And the same was true in the reverse for the Swedish women. When both groups were split internally and one group given a paste made from the exact same meal and the other was given the meal itself, those eating the paste absorbed 70% less iron than those eating the food in its normal state.

Pleasure affects our metabolic pathways; it’s a facet of the complex gut-brain connection. If you’re eating foods you don’t like because you think it’s healthy, it’s not actually doing your body much good (it’s also unsustainable, we’re pleasure-seeking creatures). Eat food you enjoy, it’s a win-win.

what

no seriously

what?

PLEASURE IS A NECESSARY PART OF HUMAN HEALTH, BOTH PSYCHOLOGICALLY AND PHYSICALLY

requested by anonymous

RATING: RELIABLE

The study referenced in the New York Times article I believe is this 1977 study. The information given is accurate, although some limitations should be noted: the study only measured iron absorption, in a specific demographic. Furthermore, whilst absorption may be linked to pleasure, it is limited by the actual nutritional content of the food.

(via a-wild-haggis)

worldheritagepostorganization:

gallusrostromegalus:

gallusrostromegalus:

gallusrostromegalus:

gallusrostromegalus:

gallusrostromegalus:

Today’s Adventure is that I, after an unintentional 13-hour power nap,

• Got woken up at 6AM by a phone call from a friend stranded in Montana because of the heat wave and almost no cell service because of their crap provider.
• OhSoThat'sHowIt'sGonnaBe.jpg
• Ok.
• I somehow summon a week’s worth of spoons and in less than 30 minutes and 5 phone calls, get them
• A hotel
• An appointment with a mechanic from 2 states away
• A perscription refilled from 2 states away
• and A Pizza
• Go me.
• But then it’s 8AM and there are unscheduled live humans at the door and while EVERGENCY MODE is still on, I have already blown through a ton of spoons, and also probably shouldn’t meet whoever it is wearing just a pair of bootyshorts that say “CRYPTID” in Gothic Font on my ass.
• So I greet them in those shorts and a T-shirt that I manage to put on both inside out and backwards
• #nailedit
• It is, Fortunately, not the mormons.
• it is, Unfortunately, two UPS guys trying to deliver my other in-house friend’s new phone except the new guy doesn’t know how to operate the “sign for package” device, and the old guy that’s supposed to be mentoring him is like, 92, deaf as a post, and doesn’t actually know how to operate the device either.
• by the way
• it is already
• over 100 out
• it takes almost 30 minutes to sign for the phone
• when i get back inside, i discover that apparently the Corgi has learned how to open his kennel from the inside because he is now out of the kennel and waiting for me to come in.
• he also has cat litter all over his face because while he was waiting for me he also learned how to open the baby gate to the cat’s room and help himself to a cat shit breakfast.
• He’ll be fine
• He’s a cattle dog, they’re legally required to have at least 1 really disgusting snack they love.
• but
• more to the point
• i have no idea at what point he learned to open his kennel from the inside
• has he been staying there out of politeness this whole time??
• And
• I got other shit to do today.
• namely.
• I’m seeing a realator
• The Devils most pathetic yet effective demons
• I get a reminder text that I have an appointment with her
• at least
• I think that’s what it is because what she sends me is:
  “🏡⏰12:00 ❔”
• With the time typed in the middle like that.
• She is, according to her profile, at least 80.
• so I reply “😎👍”
• and then she sends me a string of GODDAMN POST-MODERN EMOJI HEIROGLYPHICS THAT TAKE UP MY ENTIRE SCREEN.
• She’s on an iPhone so half of them don’t even translate across platforms
• It takes me half an hour and three different software programs and goddamn wingdings to translate, but she has sent me the address and rules about masking and not wearing shoes inside.
• in emoji
• instead of like
• literally any other format
• I am
• FASCINATED
• and simply must meet the woman so if I don’t come back to update I got stolen by the fairies but I’m taking the Corgi with me as protection so I’ll see y'all later.

Update:

• It’s not fairies
• It’s Doris.
• might be about to get a sewing machine and/or start an ACAB riot.

Ok, so:

• I’m going to see a prospective house because due to various circumstances, I’m probably going to be moving to the other side of a major metropolitan area in the next few months, but that’s not important.
• I get to the house
• I get a text from the realtor
• The realtor is not the person who has been texting me in emoji
• The person texting me in emoji is the homeowner, who the realtor says will let me in if I want, she’s running late.
• Sure
• Why not
• I put Herschel on leash and go to the front door
• As much crime as he commits at home Herschel The Hanukkah Goblin has terrific public manners, and is Very Cute so I’m about 90% sure the emoji fairy is going to let me take him through the house
• Door opens.
• 90-something blue haired old lady with a spine like a question mark and glasses that could be used as telescope lenses opens the door.
• “OH [Gallus]! How lovely to see you!”
• This woman clearly knows me because she remembers my anniversary was last week and that my sister is back from Australia.
• Problem is
• I know about 500 geriatric ladies with blue hair, scoliosis and extreme prescription glasses, because I am a member of 2 quilt guilds, the scientific illustration guild, the rocky mountain SCA and stagehand for three different theater companies, so I know everyone’s grandma and fuck me if I can tell them apart.
• Wait
• There’s a quilt in thekitchen, visible front hall
• I don’t know faces but apparently I can recognize applique techniques at 40paces.
• “…Doris? From SAQA?”
• “YES! Who is this handsome little man?”
• Herschel speaks enough English to know that “handsome little man” means “this person will feed me milk bones and bacon if I’m cute enough”
• Immediately does a Sit Pretty and Shake.
• Doris is bewitched
• This is fine, but I also know I’m about to severely disappoint the realtor because there is no way in hell I’m moving into this House.
• Because
• The reason Doris is moving out is that her neighbor is a Cunt Magnifique and has been harassing Doris and everyone else to form an HOA and “improve the quality of our residents” because this woman has nothing better to do than be a racist-ass busy body, and recently, she’s set her husband, a county sheriff on Doris, trying to bully her into signing paperwork and threatening her with legal action and writing her up for bullshit property violations
• Ain’t putting up with that shit
• And neither is Doris, so she’s selling all her shit and moving out to live with her grandchildren in Santa Monica.
• But she’s technologically impaired, so the only indication that there is an estate sale happening is a small paper sign in her front yard.
• “Doris.” I say, as Herschel makes himself comfortable on the couch for belly rubs and pieces of ham. “Did you tell SAQA or FRCC or anyone on Facebook that you’re having the sale?”
• “oh, I don’t know how to do all that!” She sighs. “I tried to call the Denver post but they just put me on hold for ages…”
• “Watch Herschel for 20 minutes and he’s only allowed to have that one piece of ham.”
• Pics of everything
• Address, time and pics to Facebook, both quilt guilds she’s in, two more I have contacts for, nextdoor, and the local SCA discord for good measure.
• It’s 12 minutes and Herschel persuaded her to give him at least three pieces of ham.
• He is petitioning for a fourth by doing a little puppy dance on the living room rug.
• “OK, that’s enough ham, people will be here in 10. Where is your cash box?”
• Because apparently I’m running an estate sale today too.
• It’s fine :)
• There’s about 7 minutes of quiet.
• Then
• They DESCEND
• The first on the scene is DeeDee, who doesn’t believe in speed limits. She’s arrived with a horse trailer. I remember that she is also moving.
• “HI DORIS SWEETHEART WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL I HAD NO IDEA THIS WAS TODAY I WAS GOING TO TAKE ALL THIS TO THE GOODWILL HERE LET ME SET UP ON YOUR LAWN ”
• DeeDee is 73, and has a special spiritual bond with Hello Kitty. She weighs like 98lbs, dresses exclusively in neon pink sanrio clothes and the kind of eye makeup drag queens aspire to.
• She also speaks non-stop at a volume normally associated with jet engines.
• Half the horse trailer is already spread out on the lawn.
• Doris is putting price stickers on stuff
• Herschel is trying to tear open a bag of cotton batting.
• This, and the arrival of approximately 56 minivans, five more trucks with horse trailers and Corgi Excitement Screaming alert Cunt Magnifique that something is happening outside.
• Madame saunters off her porch up to Doris and Demands to know what’s happening, you’re supposed to notify the neighborhood and get a permit to-“
• Doris, surrounded by her pack of silver wolves, shouts. "OH HELLO! EVERYONE, THIS IS MARCIA. I’VE TOLD YOU ALL ABOUT MARCIA.” >:)c

… further details in a bit I think the Vikings are here.

~`* SOMEONE’S GETTING FIRED!!*`~

OK so.

• You know those high school house parties you see in movies, where the person invites only a few friends, but those friends call their friends, and those friends call THEIR friends and soon like 500 people show up to one house and someone calls the cops and that one John Mulaney sketch with “SCATTER!” happens?
• Old people will 100% do this too, except instead of a house party it’s an estate sale on a wednesday afternoon and when the cop shows up there are lawyers present and he is in DEEP SHIT because his wife just spent the afternoon admitting to doing a bunch of wildly illegal shit on tape.
• So when we left off, the party had really started getting underway, because Marcia the Cunt Magnifique had decided to crash the estate sale and whine about “we’re supposed to coordinate garage sales as a neighborhood” and “your friends are blocking traffic on this cul-de-sac while nobody is home” weh weh-
• DeeDee is about ready to throw hands but she is nowhere near the most dangerous of the Silver Silver Wolves.
• That’s Dr. Ruth.
• Dr. Ruth turned 99 this year and went paragliding for her birthday
• So you understand just how hard she goes
• Dr. Ruth sort of hobbles over and point-blank asks “So I understand you’ve been trying to start a homeowner’s association?” :3c
• Marcia
• Entirely misunderstanding how much danger she’s in
• Starts enumerating the TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS of trying to start one, because SOME PEOPLE DON’T RESPECT AUTHORITY and all the paperwork and talking to people and she even had to ask HER HUSBAND. A SHERRIF. To go around and hand people stuff to sign.
• Some people, right?
• Dr. Ruth nods. Some people. She agrees.
• You know.
• Her son is a lawyer.
• Why doesn’t she give him a call?
• Marcia, a Moron: Oh that’d be great!
• Dr. Ruth, hobbling back to Doris: “Don’t worry. David will handle this.”
• Meanwhile
• The Friends-Of-Friends and the Friends-Of-Friends-Of-Friends are arriving, lured in because they heard the words “Longarm Sewing Machine” and “Hand-made quilts”
• Various factions present include but are far from limited to:
  -Probably Six Quilt Guilds
  -The Denver Art League
  -The Denver Leather League
  -The Vikings
  -The Klingons
  -The Colorado Wild Game Share
  -A Pack of Scientific Illustrators
  -A Pack of Assorted Scientists they brought with them
  -The Sheep Lesbians
  -The Horse Lesbians
  -Three Extremely Competent Finnish People (My Scientific Illustration Professor and her sisters) who immediately take over the estate sale and turn it into an auction to maximize profit and keep the taxes in order.
• Someone brings two additional Corgi called “Cap” and “Bucky”
• They are Pembroke Corgi, and weigh about 21lbs apiece
• Herschel is a Cardigan Welsh Corgi and weighs 42lbs because he’s hug even for a Cardigan, and is Delighted with his New Minions.
• They worship him as a God and follow him around so every time he sticks his face in something two smaller corgi faces immediately follow, like some kind of adorable cerberus.
• Pelts and meat shares are being traded out of the backs of trucks and vans
• Someone is making bratwurst.
• Intrigued by the Brouhaha, Doris’ neighbors emerge.
• They are also Geriatric and very nervous, because Marcia has been harassing them too.
• They are telling this to the members of these factions that are also lawyers.
• There are at least 5 of them so far and David isn’t even here yet.
• I realize my realtor isn’t even here.
• I decide to text her.
• She is somewhere in the crowd and having a nervous breakdown because She’s SO LATE!!!
• Ma'am.
• It’s 103 out.
• I was just handed a freshly grilled Brat
• Some bitch is incriminating herself on the lawn.
• Nothing scheduled is happening.
• Come sit in the yard and watch the Corgis play on the Palyskool plastic slide set. They’re disassembling it like tiny furry engineers.
• Have a bratwurst.
• One of the Klingons appears, having physically carried my realtor through the crowd, and gently deposits her on the lawn before handing her a Bratwurst.
• Diane, the Realtor, is not much older than I am, and from the preppie swaths of society that has “Never had a dog growing up” and “Didn’t Know People Could Just. Make. Blankets?” and “What is this? It’s like a hot dog but spicy?”
• She is having a LEARNING EXPERIENCE.
• One of the Horse Lesbians comes over and compliments Diane on her Dior handbag.
• Diane thanks her ans compliments the apparently expensive brand scarf she has on. Do you. Know all these people?
• Horse Lesbian explains that she’s part of the SCA,
  and what that is,
  and that why yes.
  Her girlfriend Tasha is an armorer.
  Yes like for knights.
• More Livestock Lesbians assemble.
• They are pulling off shirts to show off livestock and battle scars, and biceps.
• Diane is LEARNING A LOT TODAY.
• I am just getting everyone’s contact info and making sure Herschel does not consume his weight in bratwurst.
• BWOOP!
• Uh-Oh.
• Marcia’s Husband is here.
• I step out front.
• He has used the siren to largely part the crowd and pull into his driveway but it has closed around him and there is No Escape.
• He starts huffing and puffing about blocked traffic and permits and the like, but this is not his usual Can-Bully-Without-Consequences crowd.
• These are Grandmas.
• Veterans of the 60’s protest front who never let up.
• He’s starting to turn bright red and looks like he’s about to cry and I’ve got my phone out to record whatever Incident is about to occur.
• -And a Mercedes pulls up.
• It’s David.
• Dr. Ruth’s son.
• The Lawyer.
• And I emphasize that The because David is not some mere ambulance chaser.
• David is the guy that the state sends to prosecute Corporate Fraud and Organized Crime and Other State Departments.
• David was part of the team that took down the CO Branch of the KKK.
• David is all of 5'4", very round and a balding little man that looks like the Dictonary Definition of “Nebbish” that moves with such intense confidence and authority that he pretty much has the Pillar Men Theme Blasting behind him at all times.
• So when he and three other lawyers from the state’s office step out of the car
• Mr. Sherrif goes from red to while like color-changing octopus and I am like 50% sure he shit himself.
• Because what he and Marcia have been doing is Very,
  Very,
  Very,
  VERY,
  Fucking Illegal.
• “mArCiA!” he garbles. “sHuT tHe fUcK uP!”
• Marcia is standing in the middle of the cul-de-sac, having spent the last 3 hours recounting to anyone who will listen about the ‘measures she’s had to take’ and now the 5 lawyers that were here are delightedly handing over the paperwork that she had forced on Doris and her Neighbors, and pointing at all the doorbell cameras and witnesses out to the state’s top prosecutor.
• Friends
• I ugly laughed.
• FOUR HOURS LATER:
  -Auction wrapped up with a solid $40K to Doris’ name plus pending sales on some of her larger furniture and antiques
• Plus whatever David gets in damages from the county sherrif’s office.
• Marcia and husband are fucking busted
• Herschel spent all afternoon running around and eating snacks and is passed out on the floor
• Diane is “meeting up with” one of the Horse Lesbians next week.
• The sewing machine went to someone else but I did open my purse and found out Doris or someone shoved a bunch of cash in there.
• I’m getting ice dream and going to bed.

World Heritage Post

theconcealedweapon:

onyxwingeddragon:

adhd-induced-happiness:

autism-adhd-information-blog-de:

biohazard-inevitable:

How about we NOT use people’s autism sensitivities as a prank???

Like, I noticed a weird smell in a room and asked where it was coming from, it was faint but im hyper sensitive to smells and my dad gets this grin and goes, “here it might be this! Smell it!” Sliding a bag of salt to me, And of course, I trust him and think its regular salt so i know what smell to expect to compare it to the one in the air and open the bag and take a sniff only to be ASSULTED with the EXTREMELY STRONG smell of Eukalyptus and nearly keel over gagging and retching because of how horrible it is while my dad just laughs his ass off like- that isnt funny!!!!

Someone from my middle school would scream in my ears because they knew it hurt me. And I would scream back. All they would do was laugh…

School wasn’t fun.

I have emetophobia and when the kids at school found out about it they would make retching sounds near me just to watch my anxiety spike. There was also a day during spirit week every year where people had to chug soda as part of a relay race and it usually ended up coming back up. I was the only one who sat in the office during lunch, and nobody ever offered to join me. The office ladies were nice though.

I was also vegetarian for a time. They asked me why, and I explained my reasoning (I didn’t like eating animals because I felt bad for them). After that, they would go out of their way to mock me and make horrible, cruel comments about the animals they were eating whenever I struggled to find a vegetarian option to eat. I never shoved it in their face. I only wanted to eat in peace.

I got sensory overload a lot in school, and when some people found out, they would go our of their way to try and trigger it. Because they just found it amusing. Espically seeing my reaction to thingswhen I was experiencing it. They did it more when they found out that I snap at people without meaning to when in sensory overload.
One of my ex close friends was the main person who did this. Purposely eating as loud as possible, talking loudly, breathing loudly, grabbing my arm or even just clicking their tongue whenever they knew I was having a bad sensory day. They did this so that when I snapped at them they would seem like the victim and to the people around me, they always took the other persons side because none of the actions seemed wrong to anyone else.

Autistic people who experience this will often learn that this is how people interact with other people, that intentionally doing things because you see that it bothers people is funny.

So they’ll start doing it to others.

But autistic people don’t get to play the Kidding Card as a free pass. So they’ll be seen as rude. They’ll be punished constantly. They’ll be disliked and shunned by everyone.

But they won’t know why. After all, they were taught that it’s exactly how normal people act, and that anyone who has a problem with it is too sensitive.

When an autistic person lacks empathy or disrespects boundaries, it’s very likely because that’s how neurotypical people treated them.

futureevilscientist:

futureevilscientist:

People in the BDSM and kink communities are the only people who are normal about sex, actually, and we should all learn from them.

I think everyone should familiarise themselves with the theory for such key concepts as consent, rejecting a sexual practice for yourself without judging it morally for others, sub drop and how it can happen even in the most vanilla sexual encounters, and aftercare and how it’s often needed in even the most vanilla sexual encounters (but often treated as a joke and something to ridicule).

Summary for those who haven’t read the links:

Sub drop is basically getting the endrophin high from sex and then crashing hard from it. You just had an amazing, intense experience, so why do you want to cry??? Why do you feel weird and empty and alone? Even if you don’t get the outright crash, when the horniness fades, it catches up to you just how vulnerable you’ve been, and it’s natural and common to feel a little lost and alone after that. Contrary to what the term implies, you don’t need to be the submissive party to experience this. Note how much vanilla sex culture ridicules this (”crying after sex” jokes, etc.).

Aftercare is the antidote to sub drop, it’s the post-sex affirmation that things are good and you are safe and appreciated. Common forms include cuddling, ice cream, taking a warm shower together, wrapping yourself in your fuzziest softest bathrobe available and general relaxation together. Comfort and reassurance. Note how much vanilla sex culture condemns people as “needy” for wanting this kind of treatment, or for being upset that their partner just walks out on them after sex. (The people being condemned as “needy” are usually women, but I don’t even want to think about how much men certainly need this comfort too but feel like they can’t ask for it without being seen as un-masculine.)

This is what I mean when I say BDSMers and kinksters are the only ones who have this shit figured out. None of these things are actually exclusive to BDSM and kinky sex, vanilla sex for everyone would be SO MUCH BETTER if these things were part of universal sex ed.

(via theconcealedweapon)

a-real-human-person-not-fake:

maestrosmassacre:

verthanthi:

bromantically:

when u exit hyperfocus mode and ur immediately hit with every status effect ever

Oh fuck I gotta pee. Wait wait, I can’t stand up I’m gonna fall over. Shit I haven’t eaten in like 23 hours. Damn I’m thirsty, maybe I should— fuck why am I nauseous? Oh, I didn’t eat, right. It’s WHAT time? 3AM? Do I even have time to eat? Shit, I forgot to take my meds earlier. Or did I? Damnit. Why is my head pounding, oh, right, haven’t eaten and I’m dehydrated… fuck I still gotta pee

*minimizes word document and stands up*

My body:

(via characterlimit)

honeytuesday:

autumn is really like. i brought you some sunlight from when you were 10. didn’t the world feel so bright to you then? i’ll drench your hands in syrupy nostalgia, so everything you make is stained bittersweet. i’ll ruffle your hair with an ice-kissed breeze–it’ll be the kindest touch you’ve had in years. you finally feel like a part of something grander. i’m the last warm hand you hold before winter surrender.

(via a-wild-haggis)

zephyrswarm:

jheselbraum:

cipherface:

intercal:

the fact that we made it through the Cold War is nothing short of a miracle. I wish we talked about Mutual Assured Destruction more in schools

William Gibson once suggested that the days on which we almost destroyed the world with nuclear weapons should be recognized as international holidays, to raise awareness of how very precarious the situation has been at times.

If you would like to observe such a holiday, October 27th should be Vasili Arkhipov Day. During the Cuban missile crisis he was first officer on Soviet submarine B-59 off the coast of Cuba. When the destroyer USS Beale began to drop depth charges to force them to the surface, his captain decided that WW III must have started, and ordered his men to arm and fire a nuclear torpedo at a group of American ships. Due to a strange circumstance, the captain had to seek Arkhipov’s approval to fire the weapon, because while he was only second in command of the sub, he was in command of the flotilla of which the submarine was a part. Arkhipov, outnumbered three to one, steadfastly refused to give his approval.

Important context: Arkhipov had previously been involved with a nuclear incident aboard another sub, and cited the things he witnessed happening to the crew as one of the reasons he refused to give approval.

Happy Vasili Arkhipov day

(via toomuchperfume)

cyberdisadvantage:

dogmotif:

if you’re reading this make sure to tense up some more and ignore your bodys needs

dont tell me what to do *relaxes out of spite*

(via characterlimit)

worldheritagepostorganization:

i-love-the-mcu-3001:

zero-plus-zero-is-still-zero:

the-slytherin-dumbass:

ilove-evanpeters:

nightingalestakeflight:

queenanon:

cade-the-dino:

tommysparker:

memeingcheetah27:

headcannonsforlife:

fives-cup-of-coffee:

ladyvesuvia:

more-like-reyna:

keenmarvellover:

dealanexmachina:

alsamil:

rauggra:

carryonmywaywardcaptain:

theytrey:

kiiboi-v3:

blackgirlart:

seymonecristina:

jacobmick:

haiku-robot:

someoneintheshadow446:

mrsolodolo24:

drayaintshit:

galvan-in-portland:

luckytaters:

skuubasally:

tumblgang:

codyslipring:

spn-fandom-breathing-heavily:

westbor0baptistchurch:

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

not even risking that shit

scrolled past this, re-evaluated my life, then SCROOOLLLED back up and hit the damn reblog button. 

1. She ain’t no games in real life so I take her serious all the time
2. Anyone with a name that starts with a “Z”, ends with an “i”, and isn’t some kind of Italian pasta, IS SERIOUS
3. I’m not climbing no mountain with a pig on my back, 🙅🏽🙅🏾🙅🏿 Negative.

Nope. I know better, have your reblog Madame Zeroni.

who the fuck is Madame Zeroni

Look at these stupid children who don’t know who Madame Zeroni is

☝🏾😂

Man lissen if you don’t know you better ask somebody AFTER you hit the reblog button

Idk who she is but I have an exam today so I’ll reblog her

idk who she is but
i have an exam today
so i’ll reblog her

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^Haiku^bot^0.4. Sometimes I do stupid things (but I have improved with syllables!). Beep-boop!

Because wise, I am.

Oh fucks no she’s back lmao must reblog. I’m sorry guys

2 million people aren’t wrong

Zeroni sounds like a fancy kind of pasta :’) im so sorry

Ooc/ I love this book and movie so much oh my god

This post was liked when it appeared on my dash, so I know I’ve reblogged, but I’m not about to mess with her!

Also, these poor youths who have no idea 😭

Sorry for being superstitious but hey, this is 2020.

… It’s 2020

If I send her some splooge and onions it should be fine, right?

Nearly 3 million have reblogged this thing. Not taking a risk.

Idk who she is but my life is a fucking nightmare and I’m not taking any chances

i dont get it

omg ves search it up

I refuse for 2021 to be anything like 2020, so I shall put my trust in Madame Zeroni

i like being able to live
life’s bad as it is no thanks

can’t risk it sorry

sorry no risks here

Risk taker? Wrong person

it’s 2021 and this hellscape aint ded yet

paranoid help

It’s 2022 and this world is a hellscape. I am obviously going to reblog this. I wen back and took out all negatives because it is in my best interest to only have positives. I, also, made sure to have the best grammar and spelling I could. We have to be safe. Thank you.

I want a curse! Curses are cool!
But I’m reblogging this to say that.

…shit.

3.5 million people are never wrong

World Heritage Post

ghostingrose:

glumshoe:

lady-lizbian:

glumshoe:

my favorite scene in LotR as a kid was when Sam started miserably freestyling in the tower of Cirith Ungol and the only reason he ever found Frodo was because he deliriously tried to join in

…i did read some of the novels, but i couldn’t get through them entirely…

…and so i genuinely have no idea whether or not this is serious. coz i mean, obviously, it could be a joke. but it could also have legitimately happened. people who have only seen the films underestimate the amount of random things that happen in the books that could come off as utterly silly and ridiculous if removed from their context.

Haha, well, it is pretty much what happens. Sam is looking for Frodo in the tower of Cirith Ungol and is despairing that he will ever find him. He sits down and does what any self-respecting Tolkien character does during their moments of hopelessness and bursts into song.

It’s a really good song (ten year old Ship had it memorized) and as he begins the refrain a second time, he hears Frodo’s voice answering weakly from above. Frodo is poisoned and despairing and beaten but he is still a Hobbit and cannot resist a singalong even while on the brink of death.

(via characterlimit)

wordsandshadows:

guerrillatech:

See the chap with glasses and an incredible moustache in the bottom right? that’s Magnus Hirschfeld, the gay Jewish doctor who ran the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft (Institute for Sexual Research) in Berlin. It was largely his books, his research that the Nazis burned.

Everyone else in this photo is a trans person that Dr Hirschfeld worked with. This photo was taken at their christmas party.

(via theconcealedweapon)