Product Placement
JVL
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
No title available
Kaledo Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
tannertan36
$LAYYYTER
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
DEAR READER
almost home
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
NASA
taylor price
izzy's playlists!
#extradirty
Sweet Seals For You, Always
No title available
pixel skylines
Not today Justin
seen from Poland
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from South Africa
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from Belgium
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Sweden
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@colrel
I’ve always loved Will’s split second face of “Barbossa? What the fuck? When was he an option?!”
and then there’s Barbossa’s reaction. omg
This was the best wedding in cinematic history and if you don’t agree with me you’re wrong.
Confusion, distress, realization, and relief.
“JUST MARRIED,” Fernando, seated, and his husband, both members of Los Angeles’ Blue Max Motorcycle Club, get pulled over as they leave their wedding ceremony, December 1969. Photo c/o @onearchives. In the mid-twentieth century, the Blue Max Motorcycle Club, along with many other gay motorcycle clubs, provided an alternative to gay bars, which were constantly at risk of police raids and harassment. #lgbthistory #lgbtherstory #lgbttheirstory #lgbtpride #queerhistorymatters #haveprideinhistory (at Los Angeles, California)
fun fact: motorcycle clubs in the U.S. were founded and run largely by gay men who missed the homosocial camaraderie of being in the U.S. military during WWII. the lifestyle and aesthetics of those motorcycle clubs gave rise to many of the stereotypical/classic gay “looks” (leather, chaps, etc) and indeed to the gay leather scene itself (both the gay male leather/biker scene and the lesbian/dykes on bikes leather/biker scene)
To all the "I was born in the wrong era" people: were you? Were you really?
Would you rather have been born in an era where you can't kiss who you like or cut your hair short?
Would you rather have been born in an era where you might die before adulthood?
Would you rather have been born in an era where you might not have been rich enough to afford the aesthetic that you want?
Because guess what! You weren't!
And you know what, technically, legally, nothing is stopping you from dressing like a gothic Victorian prince or spending summer days in a meadow or listening to Queen on vinyl or looking like a greaser!
Not enough money? Embrace it! Maybe your aesthetic is urban cottagecore! You wanna go back to the seventies for free? Explore your city, learn your history, hang out in places that haven't changed since then! Can't afford to spend your days pining over your lost lesbian lover? Spend your nights doing it instead! Throw some dramatic classical music on in the background and roll around sorrowfully like your life depends on it!
Not enough time? Make some! Do your homework, do your job, shower, exfoliate, eat, and instead of watching that show and wishing you could be there, be there! Fling open your windows, ditch the electronics, dress in all your finery, and do whatever the hell it is you want! Spend your days off roaming the rain soaked city! Glide through those halls like a the shadow of a lady cut down before her time! Pine over the lover you never had! Brood over the mother that won't let you gallavanting across the seas!
Nothing! Is! Stopping! You! Yeah the world might not fit your aesthetic, but do you think that (*insert time period here*) really looked like exactly like those moodboards?
Live your strange little dreams, you creatively untethered heathens! Be free!
Victorian Christmas cards.
Re- post and say who you would send these cards to 👁👄👁
Crowley, do you... maybe "love" isn't the right word for a demon, but do you feel any kind of affection for your plants? Let's say something comparable to what you feel for your Bentley?
Crowley: No. They work for me at best. And none of you lot ‘love’ your colleagues and subordinates, do you?
Aziraphale: I love the angels I worked with.
Crowley: The ones who tried to kill you, you mean?
Aziraphale: ...
I accidentally changed a setting on my keyboard and while trying to fix it (no luck) I discovered that my phone has obtained German Duolingo stickers out of nowhere, which is both whimsical and totally on brand with Duo's creepy stalker vibe. I'm scared.
Y’all, I just got an email alert about a new chapter on a story I follow. Here’s the author’s note for that chapter. 😂
This is the most validating post.
I’ve always loved Will’s split second face of “Barbossa? What the fuck? When was he an option?!”
and then there’s Barbossa’s reaction. omg
This was the best wedding in cinematic history and if you don’t agree with me you’re wrong.
Confusion, distress, realization, and relief.
read this. then read it again. read it until you finally understand.
#BlackLivesMatter
#JusticeforGeorgeFloyd
12 for the prompts? (thasmin)
Prompt 12: “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself”
(tw: vomiting)
The Doctor’s skull hits the metal floor of the TARDIS with an almighty thunk. Such a visceral sound, it makes Yaz gasp a sharp breath.
“Doctor!” She can practically feel the pain shooting through her own skull at the sight of the blonde woman splayed on the ground, hair ruffled and groaning. She tries not to be angry at Ryan for not catching her.
“Mm’kay!” She pushes herself up and Yaz spots the little trickle of sticky bloody running down her face.
“Stay down,” Yaz crouches beside her and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder to keep her still, “Don’t move so quick.”
“I promise I’m fine,” She insists, twisting her legs beneath her to sit more comfortably, “Just a spot of low blood pressure, happens all the time, cuppa tea and a biscuit and I’ll be brand new,”
“Never seen you have low blood pressure before, Doc.” Graham says, half bending to rest his hands on his knees, not committing to a full crouch, “You sure you’re not sick?”
“Get me a cloth?” Yaz says to Ryan who nods quickly and scarpers.
“Pfft, I don’t get sick,” The Doctor waves a dismissive hand but there’s something off about her demeanour. Her skin is paled and clammy, a soft sheen of sweat glittering across her brow making her look to be made of porcelain rather than flesh. “My immune system is much—”
She stops abruptly. The Doctor’s eyes glass over as she stares into the middle distance as if transfixed by a ghost, expression laced with the slight simmerings of fear one might feel when faced with the undead.
“You’re gonna be sick, aren’t you?” Yaz concludes. The Doctor doesn’t dare open her mouth to respond, having no clue what will be expelled, so Yaz turns to Graham and says, “Get me a bowl!”
By the goodwill of Fortuna, and probably the Doctor’s unforgiving stubbornness, the tides of Styx—that is, the Doctor’s vomit—stay put until Graham can slide a washing up bowl atop her thighs.
Yaz braces as the Doctor heaves into the bowl, holding back sweaty strands of blonde hair away from her face. It’s so violent she thinks she might throw up an organ, just to be safe. She can sense the boys taking cautious steps backwards as she hurls and for some odd reason it gets under her skin.
The strangled gasp she takes when finally, finally, all is expelled is endless and sounds panicked as if she feared her body would never let her take another breath. She pants with her head hung over the bowl, spit dripping from her mouth, and Yaz rubs gentle circles across her back, “Shhh…” She says, “Just breathe.”
“I’m fine,” Her voice is so raw and when she looks up her eyes are tearful from the strain. Yaz feels her heart ache in her chest at the sight.
“I know you are,” She says, passing the alarmingly full bowl off to an even more alarmed Graham, “Let me just get you cleaned up, yeah?”
Ryan quickly passes her the cloth he’d been holding on the sidelines, dances a bit on the spot and then scurries off after Graham.
She wipes away the little smudge of blood on her temple, folds the cloth and then wipes the corners of the Doctor’s mouth. She holds her chin to keep her still and as she works, running soothing sweeps of the cotton about her face, she can feel the Doctor start to share some of the weight of her head. She’s like a feral cat gradually being tamed into a petting. Yaz brushes away a stray tear with her thumb.
“I’m not cryin’,” It’s so quiet, Yaz hardly catches it.
“I know,” She looks into deep hazel eyes and sees something she’s never spotted in the Doctor before, something she can’t quite place, “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I’m fine,” She insists again, shaking her head but letting Yaz help her stand nonetheless. Her clammy hands grab onto the console as soon as it’s in arms reach, always choosing her ship over human contact, “Like I said, cuppa and a biscuit—”
“Doctor,” It’s in her police voice, a little sterner than she perhaps intended and never a tone she’s been bold enough to use on the Doctor before.
“Despite what you think,” She starts angrily but her eyes blink a few times as she falters, “I am completely capable… of taking care of myself.” The words are lost to breathlessness along with the spirit of her argument as her blood pressure drops again and her vision clouds. Yaz is there to catch her this time and she sinks her body into her side when Yaz snakes an arm around her waist.
“Completely capable,” She agrees, trying to ignore the feeling of the Doctor’s feverous forehead pressed against her neck. It sears into her skin and fills that desperate need she always feel around the Doctor. The need to make her tangible, to make her believable.
“Just… maybe a quick nap,” She whispers and her breath tickles Yaz’ clavicle, causing her stomach to somersault.
“Yeah, just a quick one,” Yaz replies, mimicking her faux air of casualness while she practically carries the Doctor off towards the TARDIS corridor.
@edhelwen1 😭💕💕💕
Ahhhhhhh someone shared the screenshots of my tweet! Ok, that’s so cool!!
She made a video thanking him. Link to it here.
I also shared the full story on my tumblr.
You’re on tumblr! Ngk! ❤ 🐍 Sending hello to you and your brilliant daughter! ❤
These kinds of responses are my FAVORITE. Some examples to answers to this question I have heard:
1.
“Okay, and who’s the president?”
“Obama, no wait, shit *vehemently* fuck, I hate him… what’s his name…”
“It’s okay, you know who he is.”
2.
“Who’s the president?”
“*drunkenly angry and confused* ..uhhhhhhh…Orange… damn it what’s the fuck’s name….
“Yup, good enough.”
3.
“And who’s the president,”
“Not fuckin’ Obama!”
“I feel ya.”
4.
“Who’s the president- wait, nevermind you’re from Korea you said, right? So who’s-“
“Everybody knows that Trump-bitch.”
“Oh, well, alright then.”
5. (My personal favorite)
“Who’s the president?”
“Ew.”
“Good enough.”
My roommate is a neurologist and has to do this check all the time. Her all-time favorite so far has been “ay dios mio” during which the woman was vigorously crossing herself.
lol me too , lady
One time I got “that orange fuck” from a very cute little old lady with urosepsis
I have - quite unintentionally - contributed to this phenomenon.
I was waking up from surgery in the post-op observation room, where they kept people before sending them off to the ICU. The nurse was talking to me as I was semi-awake, telling me that as soon as it was ready, I would be sent to room 2008.
I did not hear the word “room”.
I started trying to sit up and get out of bed (entirely unsuccessfully), shouting (mumbling forcefully), “He’s not president yet! I have to warn everyone!”
That’s awesome. Thank you for trying to warn us
When you remember the anti-vax movement
I first reblogged this in January, and here my ass is in March 2020 self-quarantined at home.
THIS POST DID NOT AGE WELL
This post was prophetic
I think back to these memes everyday. And they did, indeed, not age well.
Thanks, I hate it
Needed this to cheer up–
please watch with sound on
That’s Cumlord! You can find his page on Facebook!!
that’s what
WHOMST
Good news guys
THAT’S WHY HE’S CALLED CUMLORD???
A bird explaining to a hedgehog crossing so it doesn’t die.
!!! ok but that’s legitimately what it’s doing!! That’s a corvid right there (looks like a hooded crow, to be precise), which means it’s intelligent enough to recognize, a) cars are dangerous and streets should be treated with a certain degree of caution, b) this car’s slowing down for them–cars do that sometimes–which means they’re not in imminent danger, so it doesn’t have to fly away just yet, c) that hedgehog’s still gonna get killed if it doesn’t MOVE, FAST (cars can change speed very quickly and the hedgehog’s still in the way), and almost certainly also d) if the bird does nothing it gets a free lunch.
Y’all, Y’ALL. This bird is consciously deciding to put itself in danger in order to save the life of a very stupid creature. A creature which, if the bird did nothing, could be free food.
i can’t - look if you follow me you know I have a thing for corvids, but this is - like!!! People are always saying “ah yes they have sub-human intelligence and don’t consider anything that isn’t immediately necessary for their own survival/pleasure,” but! Whether or not it can do philosophy, this crow is clearly demonstrating compassion. Even if it’s just the kind of compassion a toddler shows to a snail, a social creature that instinctively recognizes the potential for emotion in other beings, that’s still huge and cool and important and corvids!!! are! neat!!!
Also, by the car stopping for them, that hedgehog has two other species actively working to help it stay alive for no gain of their own.
Reminds me of that professor who said the beginning of civilization was when someone took care of another. The broken thigh bone thing.
“Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilization starts. We are at our best when we serve others.” - Margaret Mead
I need to you know this.
That man, the priest in that photo, is my uncle tim.
After all the yelling I did
about “why don’t angels just carry supersoakers full of holy water?”
and he turns up like this in the news
and then shows up on my dashboard.
