19 4 / 2014

ofcrosseddaggers:

sing-thebodyelectric:

today a customer asked me for a “medium whatever” and then got frustrated with me when i asked him what he meant

this is it 

this is the post that 100% accurately describes working with the public

(via callipygiangirl)

19 4 / 2014

supernaturalapocalypse:

Season 9 - Dean worried about Cas

(via deacastiel)

19 4 / 2014

sailor stadium jacket

(Source: 61cy, via takohai)

19 4 / 2014

19 4 / 2014

19 4 / 2014

0pirate:

yilisatlas:

bye

she went to a better place

0pirate:

yilisatlas:

bye

she went to a better place

(via poro-is-life)

18 4 / 2014

hotsuburbandad:

This is fake. They haven’t been sat on that rock for 50 years. If you look closely you can clearly see her swimsuit is different in the second photo, it has stripes on it. And the guy’s shorts seem to have a more floral pattern in the latter photo.Also, if someone sat on a rock for 50 years, it would have made the news. My theory is, they simply returned to the same location 50 years later, and recreated the original photo.

hotsuburbandad:

This is fake. They haven’t been sat on that rock for 50 years. If you look closely you can clearly see her swimsuit is different in the second photo, it has stripes on it. And the guy’s shorts seem to have a more floral pattern in the latter photo.Also, if someone sat on a rock for 50 years, it would have made the news. My theory is, they simply returned to the same location 50 years later, and recreated the original photo.

(Source: heyfunniest, via iminlovewiththesupernaturalboys)

18 4 / 2014

deforest:

if you think im not going to meow at that cat in front of all these people then you are wrong my friend

(via iminlovewiththesupernaturalboys)

18 4 / 2014

I’ve started telling my girls that I think I’m beautiful. It’s been so easy to tell them how beautiful THEY are, because it’s obvious. They are the thing beauty is made of. They are the reason we started worshipping beauty. They sparkle and dance. When they’re sleeping, they turn into soft cloud babies, little perfect tufts of white on the moonlight.

There are a lot of people like me. Women who know things. Women who have seen things. Women with diseases in their livers. There are a lot of women with scars on their arms and words that carry themselves like sparrows. There are women who were too big for this town, who had their backs bent carrying things like religion and a history that originated somewhere in the crook of a branch that extended over a stream. A place where a patch of the sky was visible through the leaves, where a little girl let her bare leg dangle too far down.

There are a lot of people like me, because we’re all the same. We’re all blood and electricity. We’re lonely under the gaze of god. We’re all wet with dew and swallowing hard against DO THIS, CONSUME, SHUT UP and BE AFRAID to die.

All of you women with lines on your brow, with cracks between your fingers… it’s been a long winter. All of you, you are beautiful and so am I.

The thing is, my children are perfect. I am the grown up, so I’m supposed to show them everything about life. When they wake up in the morning, though, I stare at them and they’re new. They teach me everything. They are babies and they teach me what it means to be a person. It’s easy to see that they’re beautiful.

I am slow and I am tired. I am round and sagging. I am harried. I am sexless. I am getting older.

I am beautiful. How can this be? How can any of this be true?

I don’t want my girls to be children who are perfect and then, when they start to feel like women, they remember how I thought of myself as ugly and so they will be ugly too. They will get older and their breasts will lose their shape and they will hate their bodies, because that’s what women do. That’s what mommy did. I want them to become women who remember me modeling impossible beauty. Modeling beauty in the face of a mean world, a scary world, a world where we don’t know what to make of ourselves.

"Look at me, girls!" I say to them. "Look at how beautiful I am. I feel really beautiful, today."

I see it behind their eyes, the calculating and impression. I see it behind their shining brown eyes, how glad they are that I believe I am beautiful. They love me. To them, I am love and guidance and warm, soft blankets and early mornings. They have never doubted how wonderful I am. They have never doubted my beauty. How confusing it must have been for them to see me furrowing my brow in the mirror and sucking in my stomach and sighing.

How confusing it must have been to have me say to them, “You think I am beautiful, but you are wrong. You are small and you love me, so you’re not smart enough to know how unattractive I am. I know I am ugly because I see myself with mean eyes. You are my child and I love you, but I will not allow myself to be pretty, for you. No matter how shining you are when you watch me brushing my hair and pulling my dress over my head. No matter how much you want to be just like me, I can’t be beautiful for you and I don’t know why.”

It’s working, a little bit. I’ve even stopped hating myself, a little bit.

I’ll be what they see. They see me through eyes of love. I’d do anything for them, even this.

I am beautiful.

(Source: feministparenting, via nonbinaryparenting)

18 4 / 2014

tehnakki:

nerdiosity:

superwolfavengewholock:

It’s a fucking Nick Furry cosplay cat.

I tried to scroll past it.

hahahahah. yes.

tehnakki:

nerdiosity:

superwolfavengewholock:

It’s a fucking Nick Furry cosplay cat.

I tried to scroll past it.

hahahahah. yes.

(via charlotteness)