ALL I WANT IS TO HAVE A PIECE OF PIE

I’m taking off until Sunday. I don’t have a queue set up, so your dash will be free of...

Fri, 24 May 2013 12:00:56 -0700

I’m taking off until Sunday.

I don’t have a queue set up, so your dash will be free of my sparkling wit for a few days. I just don’t want to disappear and freak you guys out.

Later~

rockrockrockboys: (x)

Fri, 24 May 2013 09:38:42 -0700

rockrockrockboys:

(x)

squeakyfangirl: dftbhailey-42: rainyohead: dftbhailey-42: rainyohead: morrissarty: meladoodle: ...

Fri, 24 May 2013 09:35:31 -0700

squeakyfangirl:

dftbhailey-42:

rainyohead:

dftbhailey-42:

rainyohead:

morrissarty:

meladoodle:

why the fuck aren’t glue sticks square so you can get the corners

you are a genius

how are you supose to screw them down if they’re square then?

maybe you could push them up?

How do you push them back down?

A lever on the side like one of those multiple-color click pens, so you could push/pull it up and down?

Only on tumblr will you have 20,000+ people discussing glue sticks.

I have an answer!

The glue is not actually the part that rotates. It’s the stick underneath. So a square glue stick is totally feasible — it’ll just take more glue to get the same width because of area and volume reasons. And I imagine it’d be tricker to assemble, what with the possibility of breaking off the points of the square.

I did not write at ALL today. But I worked out an Elvish alphabet and then wrote some things in it,...

Fri, 24 May 2013 00:25:47 -0700

I did not write at ALL today. But I worked out an Elvish alphabet and then wrote some things in it, so hey, all things considered.

silencingthedrums: My favorite part of conventions.

Thu, 23 May 2013 23:05:06 -0700

silencingthedrums:

My favorite part of conventions.

thesmilingfish: popkin16: beckersher: My brain instantly went...

Thu, 23 May 2013 23:01:24 -0700

thesmilingfish:

popkin16:

beckersher:

My brain instantly went to John Sheppard places, because that’s what it does.

Upon giving this more thought, perhaps these could be part of the military uniforms for Atlantis when Atlantis becomes independent

Could teams wear them? I mean, can you imagine Rodney and his perfect, heart-shaped ass in those? (Silly question. I know you’re doing that very thing right now.)

…

Huh.

I would not mind this. I would not mind this at all.

fannishminded: daryldixonwinchester: I think this is...

Thu, 23 May 2013 21:22:20 -0700

fannishminded:

daryldixonwinchester:

I think this is officially the best accidental crossover in history.

Just saying.

itsjustjensen: [x]

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:56:02 -0700

itsjustjensen:

[x]

therosebrain: This is a very important post about shoulders

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:53:44 -0700

therosebrain:

This is a very important post about shoulders

starshipwarbird: Our Serenade…» an instrumental Hannibal...

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:48:50 -0700

starshipwarbird:

Our Serenade…
» an instrumental Hannibal fanmix

01. Rage // John Murphy
02. Lacrimosa // Mozart
03. Watergate // Hans Zimmer
04. Convulsion // Mark Bradshaw
05. Wallflower // Agnes Obel
06. Symphony No.7 in A Major, Op.92 II Allegretto // Beethoven
07. Mind Heist // Zack Hemsey
08. A Cold Presence // Adrian von Ziegler
09. Moonlight Sonata in C Sharp Minor // Beethoven

{ listen // download }

he-wears-a-pair-of-silver-wings: toidarian: i’m starting to reach that point of scifi inebriation...

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:17:46 -0700

he-wears-a-pair-of-silver-wings:

toidarian:

i’m starting to reach that point of scifi inebriation again where the thought that i’m actually confined to a single planet is really weird to me

I hit that when i was like 10

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:16:45 -0700

i think we’re all damned

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:14:59 -0700

i think we’re all damned

bleerios: tinynoose: avalonroselin: abunchofassholes: thisisw...

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:09:58 -0700

bleerios:

tinynoose:

avalonroselin:

abunchofassholes:

thisiswhiteculture:

sheishurr:

welp

and if any of you white people respond with “wait but I didn’t do that. that was in the past”

i need you to check your privilege

and then drink bleach if you think your hands aren’t dirty

They’re not.

Guilt doesn’t transfer from generation to generation. I am not magically accountable for something my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather MIGHT have done. Also;

>social justice blogger
>telling people to kill themselves

I love that there’s a blog called “this is white culture” that is solely devoted to bad things white people did, not their cultures at all. So I guess I can make a blog called “this is black culture” and post gang and crime records and that’s 100% okay. Or “this is Muslim culture” and make it all about terrorism.

But wait, you cry. Not all black people are criminals and not all Muslims are terrorists. That’s unfair! And racist!

WELL GOLLY GEE DO YOU THINK SO? Because saying that all white people are responsible for the Atlantic slave trade sounds pretty racist to me, given that, you know, that was between the African slaveholders and the British and Americans and had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with my ancestors, who were incredibly poor farmers and serfs from Ireland and Lithuania who had to flee to America at around the turn of the century (by which time slavery had already been abolished in the US) because they were being treated like slaves. Even if they had been living in America at the time when slavery was legal they wouldn’t have been able to afford a slave; in fact they probably would have been working with them in the fields and treated about the same, since the first slaves in America were actually white serfs. But please, tell me more about how dirty my hands are because of circumstances surrounding my birth that I could not control and continue to treat me differently based on the color of my skin without actually knowing anything about my heritage, I’m sure that isn’t racist at all!

yes yes yes yes yes yes!

One more thing I want to add is that I don’t appreciate being judged on the color of my skin any more than a POC might. That, and I have nothing to apologize for, as I know for a fact that my ancestors never owned slaved and never believed in owning slaves based on the region on the country they lived in, as well as their religious affiliations (that and my family didn’t belong to aristocracy on either side).

So if anyone is going to sit around and blindly judge me because I have white Anglo skin, not knowing anything about my actual heritage or even my character, that’s called reverse racism. And it’s their loss.

A) Yes. I will not feel guilty for something neither I nor any of my ancestors did. I will feel sympathy, I will give my best shot at empathy, but I will not do guilt.

B) Quibble: Reverse racism is a misnomer, because it implies that racism has an inherent direction from white to non-white.

It doesn’t.

Racism, as defined here, is “hatred or intolerance of another race or other races.” So all of this above? Is not “reverse racism”. It’s just racism.

iwasasononce: satan asks baby jesus for help

Thu, 23 May 2013 18:14:57 -0700

iwasasononce:

satan asks baby jesus for help

Jared: Ben Edlund can't finish a sentence without laughing at what he's thinking

Thu, 23 May 2013 16:57:10 -0700

superbluetardis:

Jared #VegasCon

This season we just take away their shoes.They’re barefoot....

Thu, 23 May 2013 16:39:00 -0700

This season we just take away their shoes.They’re barefoot. They walk around—Ow! This tar is hot, Dean! How big is this parking lot?! Sam, we have to keep going. Sam! I can’t carry the ring, Sam, but I can carry you! Along those lines. —Ben Edlund (SDCC 2012)

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 16:31:00 -0700

agentotter: detectivebuttcop: hi, baby. i wanna say i reached...

Thu, 23 May 2013 16:16:01 -0700

agentotter:

detectivebuttcop:

hi, baby.

i wanna say i reached a point in my depression where i literally just didn’t even care what i looked like anymore. apathy is my biggest problem, tbh. but that doesn’t really help you, so here’s a positive list of things people actually, literally do to raise their self-esteem. and i’ve noticed that i actually do these things automatically when i’m feeling less shitty in general, so there’s that.

stop insulting yourself. i know it’s hard, man. it gets habitual, and you can’t really help the way you feel. but it really does start with your brain. every time, and i mean every damn time, you hear your brain going, “gross,” and “you’re fat,” and “don’t wear those, you’ll look disgusting,” pointedly yell inside your brain about how hot you are. i’m being serious. do it. your brain goes, “ugh, your face,” and you finish, “is goddamn magnificent.”

fuck the haters. i literally say this to myself all the time. i hit this point eventually where i was so angry at everyone around me that one day i was putting on clothes for school and i looked in the mirror and i was like, “this outfit is ridiculous. no one will think you look good, you look so stupid, all the time.” and then i was like, “who gives a shit?” and i wore leggings and mismatched socks and a cat sweater to school and no one said shit because i was a head fucking cat sweater bitch in charge.
who cares if those pants are “unflattering?” who cares if those shoes make your feet look clunky? who actually gives a shit if your belly fat is making you look pregnant? anyone that does care about those things is a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve your glorious visage around them anyway. fuck people who make you feel like shit. piss on their socks.

i probably think you’re a babe. i’m actually serious, because there’s like a 99.9% chance you’re a babe. post selfies, tag me, i might reblog them and praise you. being praised helps. selfie therapy, man. and if anyone talks shit, repeat the mantra from #2.

pick out a rad outfit every fucking day. pick one out. one you like. do you like those blue leggings but don’t have anything to wear them with? wear them with whatever you want, fuck the haters. do you want to be wearing red pumps, but you also want to be wearing sweats? do it, fuck the haters. it’s your athletic red carpet look, fuck ‘em. do you come to school in pajamas and a swimsuit top, and all your friends are like, “uhhhhhh???” just look them in the eye and be like, “i’m awesome.” and if they disagree, vomit into their open eye sockets because fuck the haters. i really can’t oversell how often i think the phrase “fuck the haters,” man.

when people tell you you look good, don’t defy them. it just reinforces the idea with you and with people around you that hating the way you look is normal and accepted. you shouldn’t be hating the way you look, dude! i mean, i’m not judging if you do, but i know firsthand it’s not a good place to be. you’ve got enough shit to worry about and the world has enough haters; you don’t need to also be bullying yourself.
if someone’s like, “hey, cute hair,” be like, “thanks, i like your sweater.”
if someone’s like, “where’d you get those pants, goodwill?” be like, “yeah, it’s called being economic, where’d you get your personality, my asshole?” and then roundhouse kick them out of your fuckin’ face because you’re a goddamn stallion.

mirror compliments are a must. you’ve probably heard this before. i’m not talking about looking in the mirror and being like, “you are okay. you look good. you are a nice person,” i am talking about looking in the mirror and announcing, “literally everything about me is attractive. there isn’t actually a single flaw on me.”
address your cat and yell, “point out one thing on me that isn’t fucking perfect.” if your cat raises its eyebrows and points at your arm fat, it’s time to get a new fucking cat, dude, because your arm fat is fucking gorgeous. you know why it’s gorgeous? because it’s attached to you and you’re motherfucking godly. “this is a problem,” you say as toothpaste drips down your chin. “i am fucking hilarious, and my eyes are like desert gems. my personality sparkles.”
literally every time you see your reflection. every fucking time. try hitting on yourself. good job. now try hitting on yourself without laughing. try again.

dress for comfort and for style. if something looks good but makes you feel like a spiral-cut ham in a thong, this thing is not a good thing for you. if something feels good, but makes you look like a spiral-cut ham in a thong, fuck the haters, ham is delicious and thongs hide panty lines.
personally??? i like the maternity section. my very favoritest shorts in the world are maternity shorts, they have this three-inch elastic waist, they’re glorious. it’s not too much more expensive than everything else, and it’s about comfort, because apparently women are allowed to be comfortable if they’re procreating.
and if you feel good, you’ll probably… you know, feel good. i know, weird.

if you’re ever thinking a bad thing that’s making you unhappy, and no amount of praising yourself will help, think about something else. you are allowed to say, “nope. this train of thought is upsetting me,” and change the mental subject. you can do that whenever you want. i promise. you deserve that.

try masturbation. don’t even think of it as a means to an end, like this arduous path to orgasm. it’s about enjoying your body. look at it. touch it. am i creeping you out? are you creeping yourself out? good. now keep doing it. explore yourself. do it slowly. if something feels good, do it again. if something feels bad, don’t do that anymore. masturbation is a No Self Judge Zone. you can look like and do whatever you want and ain’t nobody gonna say shit.
you talkin’ shit, shampoo bottle? you’re just mad because you don’t have these bitchin’ thighs.
take your time. do it until you’re bored. then do something else. touch yourself while you watch a movie. touch yourself while you’re trying to sleep. don’t touch yourself in public. you’ll get arrested. because looking that good is illegal.

my biggest rule is everyone’s a babe, no matter what. and i know what you’re thinking, dashiel robert parr: “if everyone’s a babe, no one is.” but guess what: that’s not even true. because when everyone’s a babe, everyone’s a babe.
it’s never okay to make fun of someone for the way they look. i mean, alone with your friends where they could never hear you, sure, fine, but once everyone starts being a babe, that stops being fun, anyway.
if you’re busy affirming everyone around you, you probably won’t have room in your awesome head for shit like “i’m fat,” because you’ve got more important shit to think about. like, for example, “i’m fat, and everyone around me is jealous of all my awesome.”

here are some rules for everyone being a babe:

being fat is not the same thing as being ugly. if a store doesn’t carry your size, that store is for douchebags and not normal people. the average woman’s dress size is in the double-digits, fuck the haters. being fat is not bad. equating it with not being attractive is.

if you don’t like a thing on someone, like if you don’t dig their top or if you wish their hair was different, don’t say, “oh my god that guy’s hair,” say, “that guy’s hair is not my bag.” maybe they really dig it! maybe they got that haircut, looked in the mirror, and they were like, “you’re like if a supermodel became the president and then travelled exclusively by jetpack.” maybe that hair’s super important to them, makes them feel good! you don’t want people to pop your happy balloon, so don’t pop anyone else’s.

don’t let people talk shit. about you or anyone else, and that includes themselves. if they go, “man, i love this kind of top, but i can’t wear it,” be like, “you’d probably rock it.”
if they go, “well, it doesn’t match my body type,” be like, “everything matches your body type.”
if they go, “well, it doesn’t come in my size,” be like, “fuck this place. where are we? where am i? hollister? why are we here? let’s go to target.”

if you weren’t you. like, if you were a friend instead of you. what would you think if you heard the thoughts you have? how would you feel if you heard your best friend saying those things about themself? i know my best friend has problems with a shitty self image, and that makes me sad because she’s a breathtaking irish flower from beyond the stars. she’s like those flowers from that sailor moon movie. you know the one. (if you don’t, just accept that they were deadly and awesome.)
the answer is, affirm your friends even if they look like shit with the flu. even if they look like a dead fish in lipstick, be like, “you look bangin’.” because that’s what friends are for! they think their friends look like hotties all the time because they love each other!
treat everyone like your friend until proven douchebag.

and even on your days when you’re feeling like shit—because everyone has days where despite their best efforts they are feeling like shit—at least you’re an awesome person.

because you are! you’re awesome! you wouldn’t have been born if you weren’t awesome. there’s a higher power, man, and that higher power is so judgmental, and you were born anyway. that higher power’s name is phil, and phil was like, “this bitch is flawless,” and cast you out into the world to grace us with your babin’ perfection. which—thank you, by the way.

you’re allowed to look like barf warmed over in your own damn house because you work hard all the time, walking and breathing and looking at things and shit, and you deserve time off whenever you want it. because—yep. you guessed it.

fuck the haters.

i know that was mostly unintelligible. i hope it helped. just a little.

because you’re flawless and everyone is flawless and everyone deserves to feel flawless whenever they want.

so you don’t think you’re “conventionally beautiful.” who gives a shit? convention was invented by awful people with shitty, narrowminded taste.

you’ll notice convention is built and upheld by the people who fit its standards. you think that’s coincidence? it’s not. it’s built up to preserve the ideal beauty, which is a tall, skinny, young, white, cishet man with a tall, skinny, young, white, cishet girlfriend whose only job is to be proud of her boyfriend, while also producing money from nowhere.

fuck that shit. fuck all of that shit. i’m not about that.

i’m about you being a head motherfucking bitch in charge. you’re gorgeous, you’re fucking rad, and everyone is lucky you’re around. fuck the haters.

This is perhaps the most glorious missive I have ever read.

I got an email telling me I’d successfully made it into my major. Why is this freaking me out....

Thu, 23 May 2013 15:52:19 -0700

I got an email telling me I’d successfully made it into my major.

Why is this freaking me out. It’s a good thing.