they’re here n they’re queer!

a redraw of my first ever taz fanart where i drew every lgbtq character in taz + three new ones 

me making another post and posting it for my followers: baby enjoy toy. mommy buy for you. enjoy entertainment baby

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The bees and wasps now recognise me as the person who gives them water. Which sounds cool but it means everytime I go outside they harass me until I fill up the waterer. On the bright side, I no longer have to fear wasps as they just buzz around me non-threateningly now.

You are their water deity now

“THE WATER BRINGER HAS ARRIVED”

“ALL HAIL!

ALL HAIL!”

my intrusive thoughts during fall

young man

there r leaves all around 

i said young man 

eat a leaf off the ground

i said young man

won’t they make a cool sound

when you stuff! them! in! your! leaf hole

it’s fun to chew on the

Leaves On The Ground!

date a selkie, but don’t hide her cloak. let her go home and visit her family now and then, knowing that she’ll come back and hang her seal cloak in the closet like she always does. trust is important.

The first time she lets the redhead take her home, she’s diligent about hiding her cloak. She folds it carefully against tears and rips and abrasions, and hides it in a sea cave whose entrance is concealed by the tide.

She does the same, the second and third and fourth times, careful, wary, mindful of her mother’s lessons. Remembers the way her mother’s hands had chafed on her soft cheeks, rough with cooking and cleaning for her fisherman husband, the way her mother’s peat-dark eyes had been tense and harsh with the lesson.

“Mind me, Niahm. Never let them find your cloak.”

The way her mother’s mouth had curved, a sickle of dissatisfaction and relief and envy, as she had escaped into the waves.

So she minds her mother’s lesson, and she takes care with her cloak.

Would that she had taken as much care with her heart.

The fifth time, she wears the cloak to the girl’s door, clutched about her throat, dripping along the darkened lanes.

She enters the home, welcomed with soft kisses and gentle touches and kindling passion. She drapes the cloak, artful in her carelessness, across an old wooden chair, the one that creaks and tilts slightly if you don’t sit just right.

When she wakes, in the wee hours of the morning, even before her lover, the cloak still rests, supple and dappled by the sea, on the back of the chair.

She frowns into the softening dawn, dons the cloak, and returns to the sea.

And again, the sixth time. And the seventh.

The eighth time, she finally breaks, prickling and hurt with longing, gripping a handful of russet hair in her hand, firm with emphasis.

“Surely you know what I am,” she says to her lover, the cool froth of sea foam and the call of gulls curling around her voice.

“Of course,” her lover responds, soft and tender in the dawnlight, throat arched willingly, pale as the inner whorls of a shell. “You taste of the sea,” the girl whispers, reverently.

She shakes her lover’s head gently, fingers tangled still in russet locks. “Why?” she demands. “Why won’t you keep me?”

A long silence that waits and fills, like a tidepool, stretches between them. Cool as a current. Deep as the Channel.

Her lover’s eyes are dark and tender. “Must I trap you to keep you, my heart? Is that the shape of love that you desire?”

She sinks into the thought, struck and stymied, remembering her mother’s harsh hands, her cold eyes. Her hand eases into russet waves, caresses where her grip had punished. Her lips press cool and damp as the sea against the arching curve of her lover’s shoulder. “What shape of love will you give to me?”

The answer is easy, quick, certain. “Myself. Only myself, whenever you should wish it. Your cloak by the door, your body in my bed, and the freedom to go, whenever you must. As long as you wish.”

It’s not an answer a fisherman could ever give, nor would think to.

The ninth time, she hangs her cloak by the door, draped in careful dappled folds next to a drying oilskin jacket.

Gotham City Sirens by Andrea Torrejón

May the 10 of Pentacles bless your account with more money than you can spend. 💵✨

10 of Pentz came thruuu

Omg this actually works!!! Thank you 10 of Pentacles!!!

I could seriously use this money right now….

Please give me my refund of 400$ soon…

I feel obligated to reblog this every time it shows up in my dash

No bragging, just 100% floored and grateful. Work hard, maintain a positive attitude, and believe that anything can happen.

So I reblogged this exactly a week ago because I thought it was funny and uh lo and behold, a family friend wrote me a big ol’ check just to help me out of a tough financial spot AND my bank refunded me $32 for fees they’d originally taken out. SO UH YEAH. Reblogging this again in hopes that it brings equally good fortune to my followers.

Sure why not? Jobs bring in money and prosperity…

when you need to be at comic con by 5 but voting polls close at 4

In the name of the moon…

I’ll vote you out!

It’s possible for a grown man standing a couple of feet away, but we’re talking about a little kid hurling it from a bike out on the street, and nobody folds newspapers that tightly (I know–I was a paper girl when I was a kid).

Paperboy still lied to us.  You don’t know how disappointed I was to never find that obstacle course at the end of my route.

Are you just going to gloss over the fact it’s in time with the Evangelion theme?

What’s funny is that this actually happened. 

I’m unfamiliar with this story please elaborate

Finnish soldier gets separated from the rest of his unit but he’s the only one carrying the emergency amphetamines for the unit, takes too many and goes on a one man rampage for like 2 weeks straight giving the opposing Soviet soldiers nightmares for decades. Oh and he did it all on skis. 

Did he survive?

Yes, during his methed up 2-3 week rampage he got injured by a land mine, travelled 400km on skis, and only ate pine buds and a Siberian Jay that he caught which he ate raw. When he made it back to Finnish lines he was taken to a hospital where it was found his heart rate was nearly 200 beats per minute and his weight had dropped to 43kg (94.7lbs).

His name was Aimo Koivunen if you want to look him up

Those are the eyes of a man who has seen god and laughed

batman: my one rule is that i don’t kill anyone. that’s what separates me from a murderer.

the joker, fully aware of how many people he’s killed as a result of not being murdered by batman: weird flex but ok

this is arcane knowledge that the human mind cant comprehend

honestly what the fuck does this mean

“Don’t stress yourselves out about it, but don’t ignore the situation”

I declare this Wholesome Knowledge

K/DA - POP/STARS

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