ellievsbear
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
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izzy's playlists!
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Noah Kahan
Cosmic Funnies
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Janaina Medeiros
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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Origami Around
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@earthisadeathworld
Happy New Year!
To see in the new year, I always throw out something that is on its last legs and replace it with something new. This year, it was a cat tree, lovingly modelled by Guinevere (brown tabby) and Savannah (white spotted cat).
What if Aliens think Humans look like pets?
Human: *is minding his own business, filing reports and reading documents at his desk*
Alien: Look at him, doin’ a work. What a good boy. Precious hooman. We don’t deserve them.
Human: You do realize your damn translator is on, right? I can hear and understand exactly what you’re saying. We may be “cute” to your species, but don’t patronize me. I let it slide for god knows how long-
Alien: *runs their “fingers” through his hair, messing up the carefully combed over “floof”* soft hooman, a n g e r y boy
Human: I dropped out of college and went through Martian boot camp for this.
This is just too funny not to reblog.
Yay, UK!
Woke up this morning to the news that our Prime Minister’s party have triggered a no-confidence vote. This means that the Tories have to vote whether or not they want May to remain as PM or not.
This, coupled with a 4% public approval rating on how May is handling brexit, means tonight should be quite interesting.
We’ll either end up with a leaderless party for a while, a rather scared PM who clings on by the tips of her fingers, or a general election.
This will lead to several choices about brexit: no-deal, some half-thought out deal like the current one, or withdrawing our intentions to leave the EU.
It would be so nice to have one year where we actually know what on earth our government is thinking and doing.
And the result:
May has the confidence of the Tories, namely 200 against 117.
For a very, non-politically savvy analysis, read on.
May only got those 200 votes because she promised not to lead the Tories into the next general election. By doing this, she has hobbled herself. She's an interim PM, and the back benches do not need to listen to her, or support her. Her rivals for leadership will begin to circle, and try to consolidate power.
The margin she won by is not enough. Her and her supporters were hoping for a landslide. A lot of the 200 votes were by people who are on the Prime Minister's payroll (front benches, I believe), and would have had to resign if they voted against her. Therefore, a majority of her support comes from those with positions in government, rather than the party as a whole.
Labour and the SNP could theoretically call for another vote of no confidence. Although the Tories cannot call a vote within the party for another 12 months, parliament as a whole is able to. This would mean May would have to have the confidence of a majority of Tories, Labour MPs, the DUP, SNP, the Greens and all the other parties with seats.
May's official statement should cast some more light on what's happening, but for the moment, it looks like she's wounded, and the sharks are circling.
Yay, UK!
Woke up this morning to the news that our Prime Minister’s party have triggered a no-confidence vote. This means that the Tories have to vote whether or not they want May to remain as PM or not.
This, coupled with a 4% public approval rating on how May is handling brexit, means tonight should be quite interesting.
We’ll either end up with a leaderless party for a while, a rather scared PM who clings on by the tips of her fingers, or a general election.
This will lead to several choices about brexit: no-deal, some half-thought out deal like the current one, or withdrawing our intentions to leave the EU.
It would be so nice to have one year where we actually know what on earth our government is thinking and doing.
And the result:
May has the confidence of the Tories, namely 200 against 117.
Yay, UK!
Woke up this morning to the news that our Prime Minister's party have triggered a no-confidence vote. This means that the Tories have to vote whether or not they want May to remain as PM or not.
This, coupled with a 4% public approval rating on how May is handling brexit, means tonight should be quite interesting.
We'll either end up with a leaderless party for a while, a rather scared PM who clings on by the tips of her fingers, or a general election.
This will lead to several choices about brexit: no-deal, some half-thought out deal like the current one, or withdrawing our intentions to leave the EU.
It would be so nice to have one year where we actually know what on earth our government is thinking and doing.
I cut my hair. It has gone from lower back length to just hitting my shoulders!
Huge change, but I think I like it.
Picture quality is pretty awful, but here I am!
King Usurper
“...I am your king, you will not walk away from me!”
Isabel paused, her hands frozen in the hot, soapy water. She exchanged a quick glance at her fellow maid, Hannah, eyebrows raised, before slapping the worst of the water off the hard-bristle brush. It made a pleasant sound as it scrubbed against the marble floor, almost drowning out the sounds of multiple feet marching down one of the halls.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several men appear, the foremost one stopping suddenly as he reached the wide entrance hall. The man spun around, his orange coat-tails swinging, exposing a glimpse of bright-white shirt underneath. Three other men came hot on his heels: two in their middle-age, and one guard, hung in mail with a sword on his hip.
Isabel and Hannah rose as one, dipped into a curtsey, then dropped back onto their knees and continued scrubbing. As a maid in the Marble Palace, this was an action they had to do so many times, until Isabel was sure that she could do it in her sleep. In the brief glance she had stolen, she had seen King Paul, his face screwed up in fury, with the hand of his closest friend, Master Lucien Piper, gripping onto his shoulder.
“And I am your heir, cousin, yet still you treat me like a dog, to be praised and beaten as it suits you!” Lord Jasper of the Middlands was a recognisable figure, most likely the most powerful man in the Kingdom. Both he and the King were directly descended from the first King of Airen, although Lord Jasper was from the cadet branch. Nevertheless, he remained the heir to the throne, after King Paul’s long marriage to the queen remained childless. To add to that, he was the Sixth Protector of the Throne, one of the six men that helped the king rule Airen. Isabel knew that many thought Lord Jasper reached too much, grasping for power when he should be content with one or the other offices. Both Prince of the Realm and Sixth Protector? One man could only hold so much power.
“You embarrassed me and the queen. How could you refuse the suit? Mistress Cecily comes from a fine family, proven to be loyal –”
“I could accept having a wife that is forced upon me, though I would rather have one of my own choosing, but to be given one that will not give me strong children? That I cannot bear! She is thin, frail, no fit consort for one such as me! You, cousin, I know your plan. You want me married off to a woman not fit to look upon me, so that I am no longer a threat, so that men will not look to me as the king that should have been!”
Hannah gasped, and Isabel barely felt the brush slip out of her fingers, clattering to the floor noisily. Arguments between the hot-tempered young lord and the king were not uncommon, but never before had she heard Jasper openly declare that he thought he would be better suited to the throne. Trembling, Isabel looked up, transfixed by the scene in front of her.
King Paul had grown deathly pale, apart from an ugly red flush that spread from below his shirt to his neck. Master Piper had turned as red as a beetroot, shivering with fury. In contrast, although the young lord had his back to her, Isabel could see that he was poised and still, muscles tight in anticipation.
“Treason!” Master Piper bellowed the word, eyes bulging, finger pointed accusingly. The king threw out his arm to stop his friend, but Piper brushed him aside, taking four steps towards Jasper, until they were almost nose-to-nose.
“I demand that you arrest this man, at once! You there, arrest–” Lord Jasper moved so suddenly that it took everyone a moment to realise what had happened. One moment, Master Piper was shouting into the young lord’s face, the next he was stumbling backwards, hands grasped about his belly. In horror, they all watched as red blossomed out, staining his orange shirt, draining the blood from his face.
Hannah stifled a scream, but Isabel was watching the king. He had grown up with Master Piper, had known him for almost all of his forty-nine years of life, and now he was watching his best friend die. Had his face been white before? Surely not, for it was completely devoid of life now, apart from his black eyes, which glistened. As she watched, tears began to drop into the king’s dark beard, and he dropped to his knees, trembling hands reaching out to Master Piper.
The guard stepped forward, hesitant. He had no desire to attempt to arrest Lord Jasper, that much was clear. The young man held his dagger loose in his hand, his body relaxed. Isabel could sense that this was simply an illusion: he had a feline air about him, like the big black cat in the kitchen that pretended to be asleep, but then scalped her as she walked past. Eventually, with a helpless look at the king, the guard lowered his hand from his hilt. Lord Jasper followed suit. He glanced around and fixed his eyes on the two maids, frozen in mid-sweep.
“Girls,” his voice was low, rich with amusement. Isabel and Hannah swung their eyes to him. Against her will, Isabel felt her heart stutter in her chest. Golden blonde hair, swept up at the back of the neck with a ribbon, fluttered in tendrils around the lord’s face. Dark eyes looked down a hooked nose, and his lips were curved in an imitation of a smile. Isabel could see raw desire for power on that face, with no hint of worry about his murder of the king’s closest friend.
“I think you had better fetch a physician. Master Piper seems to have over-reached himself.” With a sarcastically low bow to the king, the young lord disappeared up the stairs.
I cut my hair. It has gone from lower back length to just hitting my shoulders!
Huge change, but I think I like it.
Give us more doggos!
Your wish is my command!
I apologise in advance for the bombardment of pet posts.
My puppy, Cleo, was a rescue. We were told she was part Chihauhau, part terrier, maybe part Daschund? Nobody knew.
We had lots of trouble getting previous vet records, so my mother and I decided to deal with it ourselves, instead of relying on our current vets (no shade, they're terrific, but sometimes it's best to do things yourself, especially when you don't have another 100 animals to look after).
We found out that the poor little thing had been given up for adoption (privately and through adoption agencies) four times!
All of this before she was seven months old.
We were also told that she was down as about ten different breeds of dogs, with each owner classifying her as something different. Chihauhau x Jack Russel, plain terrier mix, etc.
So, in conclusion, we adopted a terror who is a total mutt, who did not have a stable home for more than a few weeks at a time up until she was seven months old. It explains her hyperness, clingyness and separation anxiety.
The good news is that she is so eager to please, that most destructive behaviours were trained out within a couple of weeks, and, as anyone who owns a high-energy dog knows, lots of brain games and exciting cardio has calmed her down a lot.
The result? A very happy little puppy, who is now content to be in a different room to us if she wants peace and quiet, and who is a fantastic friend to the cats (most of the time).
Because my blog has a disappointing lack of my puppy.
Enjoying the warmth from her best frenemy, and struggling to stay awake.
Me: walks home from work, soaked from the rain.
My dog, too pure for this world: mother! Wet! Must lick dry!
Me: clean and warm from the shower
My dog, still too pure: mother? Fur has fallen off! Must lick dry and keep warm!
My cat, cinnamon roll: mother, I must keep your neck warm
Me: walks home from work, soaked from the rain.
My dog, too pure for this world: mother! Wet! Must lick dry!
Me: clean and warm from the shower
My dog, still too pure: mother? Fur has fallen off! Must lick dry and keep warm!
I woke up this morning from the weirdest dream.
Apparently the last time you ate something was the sole indicator for when you were going to die.
One wisdom tooth has started to come out properly. Had a quick peek and it's rather impressively weird seeing a corner of a tooth pushing out of the gum.
It's taken 5 years for it to get to this point. If it continues at this rate, I'll have a new tooth in about 10 years.
Tis the season.
It's my birthday!
23 years on this earth.
Have a picture of my face.
