A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad
The pet store I worked at had a pen with rabbits near the front door. On every side of the pen were huge signs saying “You can pet me, but don’t pick me up!” One day two absolutely huge guys came in and one immediately reaches into the pen to grab a rabbit. Before i could say anything his friend grabbed his arm and asked him “did you see the sign?” He said “yeah! it says that you can pick them up but don’t pet them!” Then he went quiet for a moment and softly said “I didn’t read it right did I?” And his friend just puts his arm on his shoulder and said “its ok, i know you’ve got that thing where words get mixed up. Let just pet these cute lil shits” And I still haven’t gotten over that interaction.
I was walking my dog through Boston bc he likes the likes car rides. He’s a little thing tbh we call him short and long. So this huge scary man with a full beard approaches me like “hey can my buddy and I pet your dog? He gets nervous around dogs but your’s is so small I think it’s a good place to start.” Ofc I was like “yes he’s very friendly!” So this guy brings his equally big friend over and they sit on the floor while this man looks terrified of my tiny dog so big man number one asks “can I pick him up?” And i say yes so he picks him up and puts him on man number two’s lap and man number two is abt to freak out and his friend straight up just goes “hey man, it’s okay just relax I’d never let anything hurt you. He’s a good boy.” I’ll never forget it ever bc I know that man looked at me (5'3 , glasses, probably wearing a sweater vest) and my dog (kinda goofy looking little thing) and was like ‘ah yes the two least intimidating living things I’ve seen in Boston all day he’ll feel relaxed around them’ and went out of his way to help his friend. It makes me so happy
A good post, pure.
A biker in his 30s once walked into the bookstore I worked at. He had piercings, tattoos, and bruises, everywhere, was ripped and stout, and looked like he could take down anyone, anywhere. He put his worn helmet on the counter, looked at me, and said, “Do y’all carry Percy Jackson?” I replied, “Of course! I love those books. Percy is my favorite.” His face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he replied, “Oh, no–it’s Annabeth or BUST.” And for the next few minutes we talked about Greek myths, and I swear we both made each other’s day.
Imagine being a human in an alien crew in space and leaving with bright blue or pink hair and the color fades and everybody on board wonders WHY you are losing your colors??? Is it the lack of greens? Are you sad? Angry? They just don’t know??
“Human-Kelly may we have a moment of your time?”
Kelly pauses in her inventorying of the photo-synth plates she’ll be installing after today’s cycle ends. “It’s just Kelly, hellot-Halzar, you don’t have to acknowledge my species every time we talk.” She smiles. “That’s not considered rude for us.”
“Very well hu—Kelly. Erm. May we have a moment of your time?” Many eyes blink earnestly at her.
“Sure. What’s up?”
hellot-Halzar considers. “May we discuss the structural nature of the ship interior and gravity-derived reference values at a later date? At this moment we would like to inquire as to the nature of your corporeal change.”
“Yeah sure—wait my what?”
“There is a mess hall wager.”
“About my –?”
“Concerning your strands,” hellot-Halzar says, gesturing.
“My….hair.” Kelly runs a hand through it. It’s purple as of two ship days ago. “Ok?”
“We wish to know whether the colour change signifies mood, nutritional intake variance, or ….erm….whether your mating season status has changed.”
“My mating season status, huh?” Kelly lifts an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Did Jerry put you up to this?”
“Human-Jerry refused to answer our questions about your strands, citing some phenomenon known to your homeworld as ‘famine in missed eek’.”
Kelly snorted. “Tell Jerry he can shove his archaic ideas about ‘feminine mystique’ where M-series stars don’t shine. As for your bet: sorry, it’s none of the above. I changed my hair because my last box of dye was about to expire and because I felt like it.”
hellot-Halzar considers. “chinret-Zer wins then, by technicality: that reason falls within acceptable parameters for ‘mood’.”
“I suppose it does.” Kelly pauses. “Who bet on the ‘mating season’ one?”
“Hmm?” hellot-Halzar had already turned to go and deliver the verdict. They turn one set of eyes back. “Oh that would be Drannuc. He said he smelled a difference in you.”
“Delightful,” Kelly says, instead of explaining menstruation and how that can affect mood, diet, and that technically it correlates to what most of the species on the ship would consider a mating season. “Next time, instead of betting, maybe just ask questions? And not Jerry. He’s a jerk.”
“Reclassifying human-Jerry as jerk-Jerry. We will approach you with all human queries from now on,” hellot-Halzar says and then continues on their way.
Probably for the best, she thinks with a lopsided grin, and then continues sorting the photo-synth plates to install on her space walk tomorrow.
I love this! Possibly because I've had many characters that are horror proof because I mess them up myself so much that there's little a villain can do to them that is worse than what I did :D
you know that trope in shows or movies where the evil character is in captivity and starts talking to the Heroes to try and mess with their minds, and starts analysing them going “face it you’ll never be good enough” … “you try to act tough but inside you’re broken” … and the Hero gets really rattled and upset.
well i want a scene like that where it doesn’t work
Villain: “You have a darkness inside of you. You try to hide it, but it’s there–”
Hero: “Yeah that’s the depression, there’s pills for that.”
Villain: “You try every day to make your mother proud. Even after death, it still haunts you. But she’ll never be proud of.”
Hero: “Well yeah, she was an emotionally abusive narcissist, she was never proud of anything I did, what else is new.”
Villain: “You put on a good show, but deep inside I know you don’t feel worthy.”
Hero: “I know, man, I’ve been trying to work on that in therapy.”
Like… give me characters who know they’re mentally ill and traumatised who can’t have it used against them because they’ve fully accepted it
Hi. It me.
I believe the exchange OP is looking for is:
“This is going to hurt.”
“Man, shut the hell up.”
THIS HAS BEEN DONE AND GLORIOUSLY!
I was really enjoying this, and then it got gay, and now I love it.
I LITERALLY WENT AND LOOKED UP EVERYTHING THESE TWO ARE IN AND I’M SERIOUSLY IN LOVE NOW
IN OTHER NEWS, WICCAN IS ME IF I WERE A REALITY-WARPING MAGICAL MESSIAH
welcome to the Young Avengers fandom, you can pick up your
complementary homosexuality at the door
The librarian leans in close. “Books… unavailable to the average citizen, warlock? I believe I can help you.” She leads you through winding halls until you come to a tiny doorway. Surreptitiously, she slips a small key into the lock and motions you in. Torches flicker, and as your eyes adjust to the light, you see that the room is full floor-to-cieling with… gnome erotica.
Was this the result of a failed skill check, or a successful one?
It is done! The Modern Male Witch: Kitchen is here! :D
He is a bit messy, but he can always find what he’s looking for, even when some things in his kitchen get a mind of their own. There’s a different fragrance in the air every day
It’s finally finished! I’ve been working on this for a week and I’ve loved every second of it. I needed a good excuse to really get the hang of Clip Studio Paint and I wanted to make a big background-heavy piece again. This setting worked perfectly for that.
I recently saw this video by @hewhois and I got instantly inspired. It made me want to draw a modern male witch in his private den. I loved the peace and comfort that the video emitted and I did my very best to create a similar feeling. It’s so difficult to capture a very specific mood, but I hope I succeeded!
i tried to write a fic about batman and poison ivy teaming up to fight kudzu but then everything went sideways
Batman dropped to one knee in order to better inspect the tangle of vines that had taken over the abandoned cannery. He frowned.
The sound of footsteps getting closer. Heels on cement. Could probably guess who that was. He glanced upward when they stopped. Poison Ivy, in a dress that resembled a Mandragora officinarum flower. She had her hands on her hips.
He stood, and headed in the other direction.
“Hey!” He stopped. “Don’t just walk away from me!”
He sighed. “I know this wasn’t you.”
“Bullshit,” she said, stomping one foot.
“Are you trying to take credit for this.”
“No! I came up with a whole thing to prove to you that this wasn’t my fault, you don’t just get to arbitrarily decide that it wasn’t.”
“This obviously wasn’t you.”
“How is it obvious!”
He turned, but only halfway, still not entirely facing her. “This is kudzu. You would have chosen something native, like woodbine.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you been studying me?”
“No.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “How do you know how to identify kudzu?”
“It’s fairly common gardening knowledge.”
“Why would you have any gardening knowledge?”
“I have a life outside of bats,” Batman said. “Not everything has to be about you.”
“If you’re going to be rude, then I’m not going to help you anymore,” Ivy warned.
“Were you helping.”
“I was going to help,” she said, “until you started being rude.”
“Hm.” They regarded one another in silence. “You were going to help me. A man. Try to get rid of a plant.”
“It’s kudzu,” she reminded him. “And I am allowed to help people, sometimes, if I want to.”
“Help… the people that you want to kill. So that plants can inherit the Earth.”
Her hands went back to her hips, her posture defensive. “I,” she said, “can grow, and learn, and change just like anyone else. It’s not hypocritical to change my mind.”
“Ah.”
“Don’t give me that look.”
“This is just what my mask looks like.”
They were silent again.
“Harley?” Batman asked.
“We didn’t have a fight,” Ivy snapped, before realizing that he hadn’t suggested that they had. “There was a minor difference of opinion,” she said, “about what constitutes first-world environmentalism, and when it’s appropriate to use the word genocide, and, quite frankly I’m not even technically human so I don’t think it’s fair to say that I–”
“You should quit while you’re ahead.”
She crossed her arms again. “Whatever. Whatever. It doesn’t even matter, because that was a long time ago, and people change.” She held out one of her arms, twisted her wrist and clenched her fist, and kudzu vines began to shrivel up and die. “See?”
“Hm.” Batman turned, and headed in the other direction again. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” she demanded, following after him.
“I don’t want your help.”
“There’s an invasive plant-themed villain on the loose! Of course you want my help!”
“I’m not letting you use me to win an argument with your girlfriend.”
“I’m helping because I’m a helpful person who only seems hostile because I’m trying to survive in a world that’s hostile to my existence.”
“Go home and admit you were wrong.”
“No.” Leaves withered in her wake. “I won’t be held to unfairly high standards.”
“The unfairly high standard… that genocide is bad.”
“I never said it wasn’t!” Kudzu wrapped around his legs, grew short vines that dried out into thorn-like protrusions as they stiffened and died. “Don’t put words in my mouth!”
“On multiple occasions you said you wanted to end all human life.”
“All humans. Eventually. It didn’t have to be right away, I didn’t mean any specific humans.”
“I don’t know why you think that’s better.”
“Look. I am trying to be helpful. I am trying to turn over a new leaf. Pun intended. Stop being difficult and just let me help you.”
She had, as she spoke, been wrapping Batman in even more vines to prevent him from walking away. By the time she was done, he was wrapped in kudzu to his shoulders. He said nothing.
“… I can see how this would seem unhelpful, but I am really trying and I think that should count for something.”
He continued to say nothing.
“And I don’t think it’s fair how you always take her side. It wouldn’t kill you to help me out once in a while.”
“Ivy.”
“Yes?”
“Get this off of me.”
“I’m not wrong, though.”
“You are.”
“I wasn’t completely wrong.”
“You were.”
“She can’t always be right.”
“She isn’t.”
“I have a PhD.”
“So does she.”
“I was murdered.”
“So was she.”
“Think about how I feel.”
“I have. It feels like being wrong.”
“You know what? No. I’m not letting you out of there. You can wait here, and I’ll take care of this myself, because I am more than capable of doing the right thing on my own, without other people’s opinions.”
“Ivy.”
Batman sighed as Poison Ivy stormed away in a growing wave of kudzu. A twitch of his eyebrows opened the communications menu in his mask, taking longer than he would have liked to navigate the heads-up display without his hands.
It rang.
“Ahoy-hoy!”
“Harleen.”
On the other end of the line, she gasped so dramatically it sounded as if she’d inhaled her phone. “Batsy! Is this–”
“No.”
“–a booty call?”
“No.”
“Awww.”
“Your girlfriend is about to cover the tri-state area in kudzu.”
“What? But she hates kudzu. Are you sure it’s not hemp?”
“She’s trying to prove that she’s a good person, with good opinions.”
“… is she still mad that I said killing everyone would be genocide?”
“Yes.”
“Shoot. Where is she?”
“Off Portage, near the interstate.”
“Is that over by where the old water tower with the cupcake used to be?”
“No. The old library.”
“The one that’s a taco place now?”
“The one that’s a coffee shop.”
“I know exactly where that is, I’ll be there in ten – should I wear pants?”
An older piece I’m still not sure how I feel about? It’s been at that ‘is it done?’ stage for a few months. Figured I would just post and can always improve on later -COEY! _____
The “Dread Gazebo” is one of those inside jokes that everybody in the D&D/RPG community is supposed to know, but that makes it really hard to actually learn. Everyone references it, but nobody actually tells the original story. I played D&D for years before I got up the nerve to ask why everyone made jokes about gazebos.
Austrian photographer Inge Prader recently recreated Gustav Klimt’s masterworks for Style Bible, a part of the Life Ball Charity Event in Vienna, Austria. A team of over 50 professionals worked on the demanding photography project which raises funds to help those with HIV/AIDS. Makeup artists, costume designers, set designers, lighting specialists and many others worked with models and fully ornamented props to bring to life the fascinating, erotically charged work that Klimt is known for during his “Golden Phase.”
Given that they are on huge starships or spacestations with uneven access to "current" literature, I am not surprised that someone's writing fanfic on the Enterprise(s). And that the captain may end up reading it. Tee hee!
Maybe my favorite gif of Janeway because it looks like she’s reading someone’s smut and isn’t pleased with the quality.
“Their flesh melted together like they were a weird sort of siamese twins but sexyily… are you serious Chakotay?”
can we make “Captain reads bad smut written by first officer” a thing
“he gasped as he pinned his captain against the wall and his hot rod twitched impatiently, eager to get closer to that glorious ass… Will, what the fuck?”
“If it pleases you plant your seed in my garden and I will bear the fruit of your loins” she screamed, slamming back into him as he flooded her internal organs violently….Major…what the fuck.”
“But by the prophets, not 50 of them Nerys!”
OMG. I just love where this post went. It was not what I expected.
“Well, Mister Spock, I can’t say that I’m not intrigued, but unless I’ve misread the species of your leads that’s too many hands.”
“Actually, this is pretty tasty stuff, T’Pol”
This post and fandom moves me on a spiritual level.
“Are you sure these two species are even compat–”
“I didn’t say it was scientifically accurate. I said it was the dominant form of published fiction on the planet, Captain.”
Just last month, we developed a sweet tooth for the spring-themed buttercream creations of Instagram’s best bakers, like Jakarta-based Ivenoven. In addition to her floral treats, Ivenoeven also celebrates nature with her lush and lifelike succulent cakes.
Much like her flower cakes, Ivenoven’s succulent-inspired sweets feature flora sculpted with frosting made from powdered sugar, butter, and food coloring. Once her desired consistency and colors are achieved, she uses a piping technique to create realistic leaves, spines, and needles. Like real-life cacti and other water storing plants, each buttercream figure is unique in color, size, and shape. When grouped together in the bunch-like arrangements characteristic of Ivenoven’s aesthetic, the buttercream succulents bloom into verdant gardens and transform into cake-topping terrariums.
Ivenoven’s baking journey began back in 2013, when she baked Christmas cookies for her daughter’s class. Though simply decorated, the goodies were a hit, prompting her to pursue her passion and bake for a living. Now, through Zoezo Bake—her own line of artisan cakes, cookies, and cupcakes—the self-taught baker sells her creations to dessert lovers and botany enthusiasts all over Indonesia. You can learn more about her practice on Facebook and Instagram.
See a selection of Ivenoven’s sugary sweet succulent cakes below!
Melissa Ng is the creator of this outfit, which is called “Sovereign Armor”, the result of a quest to “create a practical and versatile Medieval-inspired fantasy armor for a woman.”
my favorite thing i’ve learned in college is that way back in ancient china there was this poet/philosopher guy who wrote this whole pretentious poem about how enlightened he was that was like “the eight winds cannot move me” blahblahblah and he was really proud of it so he sent it to his friend who lived across the lake and then his friend sends it back and just writes “FART” (or the ancient Chinese equivalent) on it and he was SO MAD he travels across the lake to chew his friend out and when he gets there his friend says “wow. the eight winds cannot move you, but one fart sends you across the lake”
i googled this bc i desperately wanted this to be real, and guess what…it is.
the dude’s name was su dongpo (also known as su shi). his original poem went like this:
稽首天中天，
毫光照大千，
八風吹不動，
端坐紫金蓮
(Humbly bowed my head below all skies Minutest lights shine through my deepest bounds Immovable by strong winds from eight sides Upon purplish gold lotus I seated straightly by the low mound) (x)
on which his friend wrote “放屁” (fart, literally), and you know the rest.
So y’all keep blowing up my notes with the various Family Lore stories I’ve been telling, so I guess I should tell one on my parents now.
My Mother’s Father was part of the United Auto Worker’s Union, and during the 50′s and 60′s, was on strike a lot. My point is, grandpa got himself an entirely deserved reputation for being a sucker who loved animals, so people would dump thier pets on him. Hence, my mother grew up in a house with pets such as Picket the one-eyed tomcat, Tweety the Bald canary, Dummy the cat, Stupid Son of Dummy, Spooky Garbage Dog and Chiquita the Tarantula. Eventually Grandma put her foot down when Grandpa brought home Gerta the Saint Bernard.
I say all this because it provides some context for how the following occured.
Mom and Dad had just moved in together (my parents dated for six years and were engaged for 13 days, driving everyone on both sides insane), and unfortunately, My mother’s German Shepherd, Cops, has just passed away due to bone cancer. After mourning for a bit, Mom and Dad decided to get a dog together, as a couple.
For context, my father had never owned a dog in his life. His mother had ‘Pretty Bird” the budgie as a child but parrots are alien life forms, not pets.
So they go to the Palo Alto Animal shelter to adopt. The year was 1987, and at the time, Palo Alto was… not a great place. Lots of drugs, gangs and poor civic managment. Mom told me that she learned to identify different types of gunfire while living there. They get there, and mom explains that she’s always had a preference for Big Dogs, and the guy’s face lights up. Oh Yes, he says, We have a Big Dog. For expirienced owners, yep, adoptable today, here we’ll give you a discount even-
Somehow my parents were not suspicious about this.
They were shown to the Animal in question, a Gorgeous blue-sable beastie with pretty golden eyes who immediately pressed herself against the fence and gave them the best PUH-LEEEEEEASE TAKE ME HOME puppy eyes 100lbs of canine can do. Mom and Dad fall in love instantly. They sign all the paperwork and take her home for $10, and name her “Mazel” as in “Mazel Tov.”
Within the hour, it becomes clear that something is amiss.
Cops had lived with his kibble stored in a plastic garbage can in the garage for six years without incident. Mazel figured out how to open doors and got the locking lid off the can in six minutes, horking down about four pounds of the stuff before my mother notices that it’s been weirdly quiet. Most dogs bark at or chase squirrels. Mazel stalked and caught one the second day, presenting it to my mother like an offering. Mazel knew all her commands but would clearly stop to consider before obeying, and trained my dad to give her good treats within a week. The locks on the side-yard gate were undone, and she took a stroll around the neighborhood, but always retuned home for dinner.
After a week of gradually realizing that Mazel was smarter than most of the professors my mom worked with, they took her to the Vet for a routine checkup.
Dr. Hamada walked into the exam room, dropped the clip-board and said “Where the HELL did you get a Wolf?”
After a bit of prodding and a very-angry-dr.hamada-calling-the-pound, they determined Mazel was a high-content hybrid, probably with a husky, but was going to be a lil shit her entire life. OK, said Hamada, I don’t like destroying animals and you’ve got a lot of expirience with dogs, so I’m okay with letting you keep her, but you should keep her away from small children because her Prey Drive could kick in.
Two years later, mom got pregnant with me.
Mazel noticed instantly, and reacted by digging a large hole in the yard and catching even more squirrels for mom, because she needed the protein or something. That what you do when the Alpha Bitch is preggers, right? Dig a den and ply her with food? On the advice of my grandmother, my mom stayed overnight at the hospital once I was delivered, and dad went home with a shirt that had moms and my scent on it. Mazel spent the whole night puzzling over it.
The next morning, when mom came home with me, there was the sudden and instantaneous recognition of PUPPY!!!!!! :D:D:D!!!!! PUUUUUUUPPY!!!!!! and Mazel turned into the most aggressively maternal being I’ve ever met. Playing with me on the blanket, sitting under my chair at meals (I was a messy eater), sleeping under my crib, teaching me to walk by letting me hang onto her fur and shuffle around.
Dr. Hamada thought mom was a madwoman, until he saw me holding Mazel’s mouth open and sticking my face in so i could look at her teeth. He gave up when my mom announced she was pregnant with my sister.
I’m making living with a Wolfdog sound awesome, but it did come with some drawbacks:
Mazel did have to be muzzled at the vets, because she had Opinions about having things stuck up her butt.
HAIR. One of my chores growing up was to brush her out every week and I’d frequently end up with more hair than animal.
the only way we could reliably get her to stay in the yard was with an overhead tether with a STEEL cable, which she chewed through anyway.
Do you like waking up by being hit in the face with half a dead animal? No? Wolfdogs may not be for you.
More than capable of opening the fridge and eating everything if you’re not watching
Will get into everything if not otherwise occupied. Including eating your tax forms.
Howls along with sirens at 4 AM.
PROS of growing up with a wolfdog, as a small child in the 90′s
I was afforded a degree of freedom normally associated with a pokemon trianer. It was no big deal for me and my sister to walk three miles through my not-really-good neighborhood to the Froyo if I took Mazel with us. People tended to leave us alone when we had 100lbs of overprotective Apex Predator following us around.
WINNING at Pet Day at school. There wasn’t actually a compettion but Billy’s hamster sucks in comparison to an animal that is perfectly willing to demonstrate how she can snap an oak branch in half on command.
PTA moms losing their shit because Mazel would walk down the block by herself to come pick ups up from school.
Grew up associating the word “Bitch” with teeth and the willingness to rip an asshole’s face off for being rude. Never changed the definition.
Learned the I-Own-This Strut and Murder-Stare from the absolute best.
When she was 17, Mom and Dad decided to add another room on to the house. They rigged up the overhead tether so she could be outside but not underfoot for the contruction guys. One morning, mom came out to notice them all milling in the side yard entrance, muttering worriedly. When mom asked what was wrong, one of them explained that Carlos forgot to bring the Hamburger. What do you need a hamburger for? Asked mom, and they pointed down the side yard to where Mazel was sitting, doing her best Viscious Alpha Bitch Stare.
Apparently they’d never realized that she was on the VERY end of her tether there and couldn’t actually get to them, and had been scamming them for a big mac a day for a month. Mom had my six-year-old sister pull her away to show she wasn’t dangerous and tired her best not to laugh but kind of failed.
Mazel ended up living to be 19 and a half, and except for some minor arthritis, remarkably hale until the day she passed away in her hole in the back yard while taking a nap. I maintain that Death had to wait until she was sleeping to get a crack at her, or she would’ve taken his scythe for a chew toy.
I... I thought the hair in Kamikaze girls was exaggerated for comic effect in the movie. I WAS WRONG.
When I was growing up in Tokyo my parents would sometimes take me to Yoyogi Park, or the streets of Harajuku, where groups of roller-zoku gangs would hang out and dance. I remember, as a 5 or 6-year old, being scared of them – they were so different from our other Japanese neighbors – but also mesmerized.
The New York-based photographer Denny Renshaw was also attracted to them. Having grown up in Jackson, TN, the birthplace of Rockabilly, he felt a deep urge to capture them on film. But coordinating any type of photo shoot turned out to be impossible: they have no online presence and no formal contact info. So with only vague knowledge of where and when they meet, Renshaw packed his bags and flew to Tokyo.
He recounts the incredibly odd experience of trying to make contact with them and get permission to shoot, on the Harmony Blog:
After several attempts to make contact (including one where he was required to play a word game with a fixer) and several more times having his shoot shut down before he was even able to begin (once by “Big Boss” a surly, tattoo-covered member of the tribe), Renshaw was finally able to capture the portraits he’d flown halfway around the world to make.
These portraits were captured over 5 weeks in 2013 and 2015, shooting at parks, parties, bars and music venues.
The Roller-zoku grew out of both 50s and 60s rock ‘n roll but also rockabilly because Japanese record labels at the time didn’t differentiate between the two, explains Renshaw. But it was the revival in the lat 70s that brought to life what we know as Japan’s Roller-Zoku. The groups are made up of both young and old, male and female. Their greased up pompadours and theatrical dancing can still be seen in Yoyogi Park on weekends.
She’s the voice of Mulan, as if she wasn’t amazing enough.
She broke it with her fingers. Not a fist, her fingers.
Girl is 50 years old.
FIFTY. YEARS. OLD.
fun fact: When you break things with your hands like that you have t break your fingers on purpose before so that they heal stronger. So basically this woman is so badass she broke her hands just to do this.
You asshat, you’re making it sound like she snaps her fingers in half.
Martial artists like Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee (and yes, fucking Ming-Na Wen, that beautiful badass) will build up their bone strength by repeatedly (and fairly gently) striking sand, gravel, wood and steel - this creates tons of microfractures in their bones (smaller than even a hairline fracture) so the bones will heal over again and make the bones stronger and denser with increased deposits of calcium.
This has to be done over long-ass periods of time, so the bones have time to heal, and none of the fractures expand into actual breaks.
Oh, and she’s doing precise-ass kicks in HIGH HEELS.
she kicks ass like a coursing river
Saw this post so many months ago and I still think about it from time to time lol so badass
Had the absolute pleasure of meeting her. She’s indeed a kind-hearted and gorgeous badass.
Last year Seibu Railways launched a new poster campaign to educate their straphangers on proper train etiquette and manners. Given the surge in tourism in Japan recently, the train company decided to create their posters in an ukiyo-e inspired style.
Given the immense popularity of the traditional Japanese woodblock prints, the posters are meant to appeal to both locals and foreigners.
Seibu Railways has been releasing a new poster roughly every new season and so far three different posters have been released. In Japanese they’re given the title denshanai meiwaku zue (電車内迷惑図絵) which is consistent with traditional ukiyo-e naming conventions and translates roughly to “picture of train car nuisance.”
You can find them in Seibu Railway stations, as well inside some of the trains. We’re looking forward to seeing more of these wonderful posters!
gwendoline christie utterly epitomises the “get u a girl who can do both” meme. girl can stalk across a scorched battlefield dressed in full armour & covered in men’s bloodAND float down the red carpet in a gorgeous flowy dress and high heels looking like the actual personification of spring and sunshine. warrior harbinger of death and floral goddess. when will ur fav ever. when will anyone get on gwendoline’s level.
#okay now I need the movie #where they’re the four horsepersons of the apocalypse #except they’re all a bit disgruntled with their job assignments #so they decide to throw a spanner in the works #it would be like good omens but with more stabbing
(tags via @madmaudlingoes and may I just say that is an awesome idea? XD)
Recently Nike has been working towards being more inclusive of all athletes and sports lovers around the world. And it’s going to launch the all-new Pro Hijab for Muslim sportswomen. The idea of making this line came after UAE weightlifter Amna Al Haddad visited Nike’s Sport Research Lab. New garments were wear tested by elite Nike athletes, like groundbreaking Emirati figure skater Zahra Lari.
“I was really hesitant when I first saw it,” said Lari. “I was thrilled and a bit emotional to see Nike prototyping a Hijab, but I’ve tried so many different hijabs for performance, and with how fast I spin on the ice and in training, so few of them actually work for me. But once I put it on and took it for a spin on the ice, I was blown away by the fit and the light weight.”
The Nike Pro Hijab is set to release in 2018 spring. It’s going to change perception of Muslim women athletes, help to break barriers and inspire more women to be pioneers in sport.
Today I learned that the university of Coimbra in Portugal has
a great 18th-century library, the Biblioteca Joanina, that maintains a colony of bats to effectively control the population of paper-eating insects called
papirófagos.
These bats are less than an inch long. They roost during the day behind the bookcases and come out at night. There doesn’t seem to be any English word for
papirófago, a cursory search turns up no details about what sort of insect they are, and ngl I am slightly concerned about them as a phenomenon. But I think my overarching point here is clear:
This library keeps tiny bats that look after the books.
I’m here for tiny bats saving books.
Ooh look at the little bebehs!!!
@fairandradiantmaiden I can’t handle their little faces. I would never leave that library
Being a witch is not the highest paid job in the world.
I JUST WANT HER TO GET HER PRETTY PURPLE HAT AND BE HAPPY
I would kill for a companion piece to this, where she gets her hat..
Im sobbing.
no seriously why hasn’t any replied to this image with a picture of her in the pretty hat c’mon tumblr please
Well it’s not much, but here’s a comic:
Enjoy!
DEAD
Reblog every one of these happy end comics I don’t even care
Forever reblog. ❤️
Why yes, I will always reblog the happy endings people have given to this illustration. BECAUSE THAT DELIGHTFUL ELDERLY WITCH DESERVES TO BE HAPPY WITH THE FANCY PURPLE HAT.
