ladies dont start fights, but they can finish them.
that is a cat with a hairbow how is that relevant to the caption
Uncultured swine
sheepfilms

roma★

izzy's playlists!

Love Begins

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Keni
will byers stan first human second

JVL
we're not kids anymore.

tannertan36
noise dept.
One Nice Bug Per Day
Claire Keane
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Kaledo Art
d e v o n
Cosimo Galluzzi
Game of Thrones Daily

oozey mess
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@fawnroyale
ladies dont start fights, but they can finish them.
that is a cat with a hairbow how is that relevant to the caption
Uncultured swine
I’m back, kids
Sup? B)
I’ll cry if you yell at me
@dulcetdeer
There are two kinds of Homestuck fanartists:
dead leafs? that’s called yard salad now. and it’s the new food trend.
leaves*
where are you going
this show ever existing is little more than a fever dream to me? did anybody actually like this show? it was so bitter and hostile and the protagonist literally never came out on top one time. ever. all of the characters were mean and antagonistic, most of the plots revolved around misunderstandings, most of the “humor” was secondhand embarrassment and iirc didn’t a recurring character legit fucking die?
Finally another person who remembers this tainted gem. It was like camp lazlo viewed through a dark mirror.
remember when deidara literally had an identity crisis because he had to change his aesthetic
by Owlturd
correction: i knew, i knew the whole time plz say somethiNg nice TO ME plEA
@youkaisage
1.17
Jaws Theme (Disco Version)
I’ve been sitting here for five minutes trying to think of a way to articulate what I’m feeling but I am too lost in the funky shark rhythm
@xotlacueponi
@plaidshirtsandpancakes
lets just turn abandoned shopping malls into affordable apartments and keep the food courts and comfy palm trees and fountains and places to sit that’d be real nice
this is a fine idea tbh. who wouldn’t want to live in a nice mall???
File under: things that are actually a thing (but look super awesome and should be more of a thing):
plans for the ruins of capitalist civilisation
you could set up the restaurants and stuff in the food court so that they’d still run! and then hire some of the people who live there to work in them, so that disabled/older people in the community who still wanted/needed to work could do it from their home. then, everyone who lived in the apartment complex could have a nice place to eat if they didnt want to make dinner or whatev.
We rescued this tiny baby and he likes to sleep on my shoulder.
(submitted by marionetteofasadist)
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, Please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she Did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, Sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used— She stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and Would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and Found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering Questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag— And was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers— Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands— Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped —has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)