Monday, September 1, 2014

love-is-the-best-thing-we-do:

mattressblowoutsale:

everybodys dad has a weird obsession with something

image

winterthirst:

dangerhamster:

imagine a zombie apocalypse film where a fangirl ends up having to team up with their celebrity crush

 (via)

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Anonymous said: What kind of responsibilities does whats her face (lol)have when she and hiccup get married? What sort of chief wife duties does she have?

dyannehs:

WHAT’S-HER-FACE HAS ALL THE CHIEF WIFE DUTIES AND RESPONSIBILITIES.

Poor thing is going to go out of her precious mind.  In addition to being Hiccup’s wife (which I’d imagine is a job in and of itself), and in addition to being a rather important adviser and running the village in Hiccup’s absence, she has to manage an entire household.  And she definitely is the one managing that shit show.  She’s the chief’s wife so she outranks Valka.  Which is sort of good, because she can delegate.  But it also sucks, because it means she has more to do.

Those two want to start having kids ASAP.  Children are just unpaid labourers, and they mean more gets accomplished in less time.

There’s so much more on this topic.  I don’t even know what to link.

Read this one.

And this.

I talk a bit about it here.  At the end.


"Steven Moffat is not cheapening the character. Rather he is taking the most basic notion of what she is – "The Woman, in his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex' – and uses her to aggressively confront and counter all those other adaptations that simplified her into the love interest, by forcing Sherlock to deal with notions of romance, sentiment, and sex while never embracing them in a literal sense.” - (x)

"Steven Moffat is not cheapening the character. Rather he is taking the most basic notion of what she is – "The Woman, in his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex' – and uses her to aggressively confront and counter all those other adaptations that simplified her into the love interest, by forcing Sherlock to deal with notions of romance, sentiment, and sex while never embracing them in a literal sense.” - (x)

supernatural-killed-kaelyn:

queen-of-fallen-angels:

alchemic-fallen-angel:

cosied:

i have found the ultimate avengers x sherlock crossover gif

image

Gavin will handle this one.

*George

lavenderpatil:

last-snowfall:

deducecanoe:

ppyajunebug:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure –
But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.
Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.
Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.
Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured – by their classmates –for having been born.
Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle – but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)
Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.
Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again – the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone – the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?
Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.
Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.
Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes – in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.
Imagine the ghosts.
Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield – it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)
Imagine the students unable to trust each other – everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.
Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.
Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.
Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.
Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.
Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.
Imagine the students who leave the wixen world – hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.
Imagine the students who never use magic again.
(Image source.)
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it

I think… I could be wrong… but everyone Prof Trwylany (sp) said would die at the beginning of every term DID die in the battle of hogwarts? BUt yeah. The year after that was probably filled with grand speeches about those who sacrificed their lives, and how they would rebuild hogwarts, etc. meanwhile… the kids knew. They were there. They knew what it was really like. And the incoming first years probably had a very different relationship with the older kids, who’d seen shit, than in years past. I think there’d be a long year of seriousness and severity… or everyone would try to put on a happy face and pretend that Colin Kreevy wasn’t working on the school paper any more because he was dead. Stiff upper lip. But with a very subdued attitude.

Imagine the seventh years who came back. Because nobody finished their seventh year. That year was a loss. But the ones it really mattered for were them. Imagine the older kids who are up in the night because they can’t sleep for bad dreams hearing the crying from the lower dorms and finding that little girl who can’t make pincushions but can make Fiendfyre hugging her knees, and saying, “You know what, bring your pillow up, you can sleep on my bed while I read.” Imagine the new first years, the ones who hear the story on the train, who’re eleven and still young, seeing an older student sitting alone staring blankly and going over to them and saying, “D’you want some of my chocolate frogs?” because they can’t think of anything else to do. Imagine one finding someone who’s sitting staring at nothing one day and asking in a quiet voice, “Do you need a hug?” and then staying for an hour while the older student cries and cries and hugs them, because some eleven year olds are really smart (and some eleven year olds already came to the school from Bad Shit) and know that sometimes it helps to hold someone you could look after. Imagine the older students who look at these younger ones coming in, all new and safe and bright, and swearing on Merlin’s grave that nothing will ever, *ever* hurt these kids. Imagine the alumni of Dumbledore’s Army, who refused to let the fucking Death Eaters win when they were here and kicking and sure as she won’t let them now, finding things to do on weekends, organizing things, refusing to have it so that people just stay there alone being sad. Fuck the third-year rule: *everyone* can go to Hogsmeade, you just buddy up the young kids with the older kids and I mean, fuck, *who’s going to be a threat to the older kids now*?Imagine them making up insulting nicknames for their old enemies, taking Voldemort and the Carrows and Lestrange and metaphorically spitting on them every time they use them. Imagine Ron volunteering to take on the Boggart that takes up residence in the one class cupboard because no, look, the stupid thing *still looks like a bloody spider* and look it’s fucking hilarious when you take its legs off and tie it up with a bow. And the class laughs. Imagine Harry staying at the school for a couple years, even when he’s done, because once people understand how the charm worked - how because he let Voldemort kill him it meant that nothing Voldemort could do could hurt any of them anymore - everyone just feels *better* when he’s there. Imagine the nights where everyone leaves the common rooms and camps out in the Great Hall and drinks Butterbeer and tells stories and cries and sometimes there are shouting matches because people get so raw, but in the end everyone falls asleep in a pile together. Imagine all the really, truly inappropriate jokes the survivors make, the ones that make their parents’ eyes fill with tears and terrify the first years, because actually when you’ve been dragged face-first through Hell the *worst shit* becomes fucking funny. Imagine how the owls don’t have to be kept in the owlry anymore, because every kid needs the animal they brought with them; imagine that for the kids that lost theirs, or never had one, their friends finding them some, buying them some. Imagine the girl who knows the Cruciatus Curse breaking down crying because she can’t believe she did that, she can’t ever believe she would and she knows she’s wrong and evil and tainted, and Ginny holding her while she cries and when she calms down, Hermione tells her the story of Regulus Black, and about how just because you made shit choices once that doesn’t mean you can’t make better ones now. Imagine that people have been dealing with this kind of horrible shit all through human history, and people are out there dealing with it today, and yes it absolutely sucks and it’s horrible and the scars it leaves are real and heartbreaking and sometimes people are too badly hurt to go on, but also former child-soldiers play team games and laugh at funny stories and refugee kids with horrible stories love colouring books with bright colours and play games with the friends they’ve made in the camps. And these are kids who fought. Who fought like little demons. Who *chose* to fight. So yeah, it could be awful. It could be nothing but bleak from beginning to end, a year (a decade) of sternness and unhappiness. But it doesn’t have to be; it isn’t guaranteed. (and as @tygermama notes, we Muggles have been figuring out this shit: we give it names and throw our best guesses at it, and some of them are good. So there’s help there, too.)

This is my favourite response to this ficlet so far, oh my goodness, thank you.

lavenderpatil:

last-snowfall:

deducecanoe:

ppyajunebug:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure

But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.

Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.

Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.

Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured by their classmates for having been born.

Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)

Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.

Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?

Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.

Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.

Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.

Imagine the ghosts.

Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)

Imagine the students unable to trust each other everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.

Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.

Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.

Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.

Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.

Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.

Imagine the students who leave the wixen world hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.

Imagine the students who never use magic again.

(Image source.)

(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it

I think… I could be wrong… but everyone Prof Trwylany (sp) said would die at the beginning of every term DID die in the battle of hogwarts? BUt yeah. The year after that was probably filled with grand speeches about those who sacrificed their lives, and how they would rebuild hogwarts, etc. meanwhile… the kids knew. They were there. They knew what it was really like. And the incoming first years probably had a very different relationship with the older kids, who’d seen shit, than in years past. I think there’d be a long year of seriousness and severity… or everyone would try to put on a happy face and pretend that Colin Kreevy wasn’t working on the school paper any more because he was dead. Stiff upper lip. But with a very subdued attitude.

Imagine the seventh years who came back. Because nobody finished their seventh year. That year was a loss. But the ones it really mattered for were them.

Imagine the older kids who are up in the night because they can’t sleep for bad dreams hearing the crying from the lower dorms and finding that little girl who can’t make pincushions but can make Fiendfyre hugging her knees, and saying, “You know what, bring your pillow up, you can sleep on my bed while I read.”

Imagine the new first years, the ones who hear the story on the train, who’re eleven and still young, seeing an older student sitting alone staring blankly and going over to them and saying, “D’you want some of my chocolate frogs?” because they can’t think of anything else to do.

Imagine one finding someone who’s sitting staring at nothing one day and asking in a quiet voice, “Do you need a hug?” and then staying for an hour while the older student cries and cries and hugs them, because some eleven year olds are really smart (and some eleven year olds already came to the school from Bad Shit) and know that sometimes it helps to hold someone you could look after.

Imagine the older students who look at these younger ones coming in, all new and safe and bright, and swearing on Merlin’s grave that nothing will ever, *ever* hurt these kids.

Imagine the alumni of Dumbledore’s Army, who refused to let the fucking Death Eaters win when they were here and kicking and sure as she won’t let them now, finding things to do on weekends, organizing things, refusing to have it so that people just stay there alone being sad. Fuck the third-year rule: *everyone* can go to Hogsmeade, you just buddy up the young kids with the older kids and I mean, fuck, *who’s going to be a threat to the older kids now*?

Imagine them making up insulting nicknames for their old enemies, taking Voldemort and the Carrows and Lestrange and metaphorically spitting on them every time they use them.

Imagine Ron volunteering to take on the Boggart that takes up residence in the one class cupboard because no, look, the stupid thing *still looks like a bloody spider* and look it’s fucking hilarious when you take its legs off and tie it up with a bow. And the class laughs.

Imagine Harry staying at the school for a couple years, even when he’s done, because once people understand how the charm worked - how because he let Voldemort kill him it meant that nothing Voldemort could do could hurt any of them anymore - everyone just feels *better* when he’s there.

Imagine the nights where everyone leaves the common rooms and camps out in the Great Hall and drinks Butterbeer and tells stories and cries and sometimes there are shouting matches because people get so raw, but in the end everyone falls asleep in a pile together.

Imagine all the really, truly inappropriate jokes the survivors make, the ones that make their parents’ eyes fill with tears and terrify the first years, because actually when you’ve been dragged face-first through Hell the *worst shit* becomes fucking funny.

Imagine how the owls don’t have to be kept in the owlry anymore, because every kid needs the animal they brought with them; imagine that for the kids that lost theirs, or never had one, their friends finding them some, buying them some.

Imagine the girl who knows the Cruciatus Curse breaking down crying because she can’t believe she did that, she can’t ever believe she would and she knows she’s wrong and evil and tainted, and Ginny holding her while she cries and when she calms down, Hermione tells her the story of Regulus Black, and about how just because you made shit choices once that doesn’t mean you can’t make better ones now.

Imagine that people have been dealing with this kind of horrible shit all through human history, and people are out there dealing with it today, and yes it absolutely sucks and it’s horrible and the scars it leaves are real and heartbreaking and sometimes people are too badly hurt to go on, but also former child-soldiers play team games and laugh at funny stories and refugee kids with horrible stories love colouring books with bright colours and play games with the friends they’ve made in the camps.

And these are kids who fought. Who fought like little demons. Who *chose* to fight. So yeah, it could be awful. It could be nothing but bleak from beginning to end, a year (a decade) of sternness and unhappiness. But it doesn’t have to be; it isn’t guaranteed.


(and as @tygermama notes, we Muggles have been figuring out this shit: we give it names and throw our best guesses at it, and some of them are good. So there’s help there, too.)

This is my favourite response to this ficlet so far, oh my goodness, thank you.

iamatinyowl:

tommyxpickles:

whitepaperlyrics:

your-daisyfreshgirl:

When did he stop treating you like a princess?
Domestic violence and abuse can happen to anyone, but the vast majority of victims are young girls and women simply because they are “the weaker sex”.
Did you know:
On average, 2 women a week are killed by a current or former male partner. This constitutes nearly 40% of all female homicide victims.
45% of women are abused/raped by current husbands or partners, 9% by former partners, and a further 29% of perpetrators were otherwise known to the victim. Only 17% are attacked by by strangers.
44% of victims of domestic violence are involved in more than one incident. A large number of women experience the same abuse every week.
On average, a woman is assaulted 35 times before her first call to the police.
30% of domestic violence either starts or will intensify during pregnancy.
In almost 75% of incidents, a child is present or in a room closeby.
THIS HAS GOT TO STOP. IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE THIS WAY.
It’s time to show the world that we are not weak and we will simply not stand for this kind of ill treatment. Women should be treated as princesses, like Ariel and Cinderella, who never have to live in fear of their so-called Prince Charming.
It’s time to stand up. To speak out. To be heard.
Women’s domestic abuse/violence helplines (worlwide):
UK
Women’s Aid/National Domestic Violence Helpline: 0808 2000 247
EB Women’s Aid: 0800 0852 654
Refuge: 020 7395 7713
Wales Domestic Abuse Helpline: 0808 80 10 800
Women’s Aid Federation (Northern Ireland): 0800 917 1414
National Centre for Domestic Violence: 0844 8044 999
WDA Helpline: 0161 636 7525
Rape Crisis support: 0808 802 9999
Relate: 0300 100 1234
Kiran Asian women’s aid: 020 8558 1986
Independent Choices: 0161 636 7525
USA
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 or 1-800-787-3224
DAHMW: 1-888-743-5754
Safe Horizon for DA/V: 800.621.HOPE (4673)
Safe Horizon for Rape: 212.227.3000
Love Is Respect: 1-866-331-9474
National Teen Dating abuse/violence: 866-331-9474 or 866-331-8453
RAINN (Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network): 1-800-656-4673
AUSTRALIA
White Ribbon: 02 9045 8444
National Sexual Assault/Family/Domestic hotline: 1800 737 732
LifeLine: 13 11 14
The Women’s Domestic Violence Crisis Service: (03) 9322 3555 or STD Freecall 1800 015 188
Sexual Assault Crisis Line: 1800 806 292
Domestic Violence Victoria, AUS: 9921 0828
DVConnect Womensline - Queensland: 1800 811 811
OTHER/MORE - some repeats:
National Child Abuse Helpline: 1-800-422-4453
National Domestic Violence Crisis Line: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
National Domestic Violence Hotline (TDD): 1-800-787-32324
Center for the Prevention of School Violence: 1-800-299-6504
Child Abuse Helpline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453)
Domestic Violence Helpline: 1-800-548-2722
Healing Woman Foundation (Abuse): 1-800-477-4111
Child Abuse Hotline Support & Information: 1-800-792-5200
Women’s Aid National Domestic Violence Helpline: (UK Only) 0345 023 468
Sexual Abuse Centre: (UK Only) 0117 935 1707
Sexual Assault Support (24/7, English & Spanish): 1-800-223-5001
Domestic & Teen Dating Violence (English & Spanish): 1-800-992-2600
Relationships Australia: 1300-364-277
Criminal Law Advice Line: 020 7251 8887  
Let’s put a stop to women’s domestic violence and abuse - FULL STOP.
If you’re being treated in a way you know isn’t right, pick up the phone and get help. And get out. IT IS NEVER TOO LATE FOR YOUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER. IT’S TIME TO CHANGE.
If in need of immediate help from abuse/violence, call the police (999/911 etc).
We’re in this together.
~
"When did he stop treating you like a princess?"/It doesn’t have to be this way - DISCLAIMER: I do not own these images. Courtesy of Saint Hoax.
FIND OUT MORE HERE.
~
REBLOG AND SPREAD THE WORD. NOW.

GET REBLOGGING PEOPLE.

please please reblog this.

This kind of post can make someone see, for the first time. It was a post like this that broke through my fog. Sometimes all it takes is one direct source of information for eyes to open. Even if you haven’t had these problems, please reblog this for even the one follower you have that has.

iamatinyowl:

tommyxpickles:

whitepaperlyrics:

your-daisyfreshgirl:

When did he stop treating you like a princess?

Domestic violence and abuse can happen to anyone, but the vast majority of victims are young girls and women simply because they are “the weaker sex”.

Did you know:

  • On average, 2 women a week are killed by a current or former male partner. This constitutes nearly 40% of all female homicide victims.
  • 45% of women are abused/raped by current husbands or partners, 9% by former partners, and a further 29% of perpetrators were otherwise known to the victim. Only 17% are attacked by by strangers.
  • 44% of victims of domestic violence are involved in more than one incident. A large number of women experience the same abuse every week.
  • On average, a woman is assaulted 35 times before her first call to the police.
  • 30% of domestic violence either starts or will intensify during pregnancy.
  • In almost 75% of incidents, a child is present or in a room closeby.

THIS HAS GOT TO STOP. IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE THIS WAY.

It’s time to show the world that we are not weak and we will simply not stand for this kind of ill treatment. Women should be treated as princesses, like Ariel and Cinderella, who never have to live in fear of their so-called Prince Charming.

It’s time to stand up. To speak out. To be heard.

Women’s domestic abuse/violence helplines (worlwide):

UK

  • Women’s Aid/National Domestic Violence Helpline: 0808 2000 247
  • EB Women’s Aid: 0800 0852 654
  • Refuge: 020 7395 7713
  • Wales Domestic Abuse Helpline: 0808 80 10 800
  • Women’s Aid Federation (Northern Ireland): 0800 917 1414
  • National Centre for Domestic Violence: 0844 8044 999
  • WDA Helpline: 0161 636 7525
  • Rape Crisis support: 0808 802 9999
  • Relate: 0300 100 1234
  • Kiran Asian women’s aid: 020 8558 1986
  • Independent Choices: 0161 636 7525

USA

  • The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 or 1-800-787-3224
  • DAHMW: 1-888-743-5754
  • Safe Horizon for DA/V: 800.621.HOPE (4673)
  • Safe Horizon for Rape: 212.227.3000
  • Love Is Respect: 1-866-331-9474
  • National Teen Dating abuse/violence:
    866-331-9474 or 866-331-8453
  • RAINN (Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network): 1-800-656-4673

AUSTRALIA

  • White Ribbon: 02 9045 8444
  • National Sexual Assault/Family/Domestic hotline: 1800 737 732
  • LifeLine: 13 11 14
  • The Women’s Domestic Violence Crisis Service:
    (03) 9322 3555 or STD Freecall 1800 015 188
  • Sexual Assault Crisis Line: 1800 806 292
  • Domestic Violence Victoria, AUS: 9921 0828
  • DVConnect Womensline - Queensland: 1800 811 811

OTHER/MORE - some repeats:

  • National Child Abuse Helpline: 1-800-422-4453
  • National Domestic Violence Crisis Line: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
  • National Domestic Violence Hotline (TDD): 1-800-787-32324
  • Center for the Prevention of School Violence: 1-800-299-6504
  • Child Abuse Helpline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453)
  • Domestic Violence Helpline: 1-800-548-2722
  • Healing Woman Foundation (Abuse): 1-800-477-4111
  • Child Abuse Hotline Support & Information: 1-800-792-5200
  • Women’s Aid National Domestic Violence Helpline: (UK Only) 0345 023 468
  • Sexual Abuse Centre: (UK Only) 0117 935 1707
  • Sexual Assault Support (24/7, English & Spanish): 1-800-223-5001
  • Domestic & Teen Dating Violence (English & Spanish): 1-800-992-2600
  • Relationships Australia: 1300-364-277
  • Criminal Law Advice Line: 020 7251 8887 

Let’s put a stop to women’s domestic violence and abuse - FULL STOP.

If you’re being treated in a way you know isn’t right, pick up the phone and get help. And get out. IT IS NEVER TOO LATE FOR YOUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER. IT’S TIME TO CHANGE.

If in need of immediate help from abuse/violence, call the police (999/911 etc).

We’re in this together.

~

"When did he stop treating you like a princess?"/It doesn’t have to be this way - DISCLAIMER: I do not own these images. Courtesy of Saint Hoax.

FIND OUT MORE HERE.

~

REBLOG AND SPREAD THE WORD. NOW.

GET REBLOGGING PEOPLE.

please please reblog this.

This kind of post can make someone see, for the first time. It was a post like this that broke through my fog. Sometimes all it takes is one direct source of information for eyes to open. Even if you haven’t had these problems, please reblog this for even the one follower you have that has.

(Source: the-taintedtruth)

Saturday, August 30, 2014

itsstuckyinmyhead:

Australian Tumblr Photoset #13

Want to see more?

American photoset #12 

corneliusalba:

constable-frozen:

olaf mark7

what the flying fresh fuck in all of the seven fucking realms is this

Friday, August 29, 2014

djdragonblood:

helioscentrifuge:

laoisepotter:

Don’t you hate it when there’s a perfect opportunity for lesbians and the writers just don’t?

What’s worse is when the writers WANT to and the company won’t LET them

image

saucefactory:

starrysleeper:

gleeddicted:

when fics don’t update

image

when you’re the one not updating them

image

#ACCURATE

nomalez:

The Avengers - heroic fantasy version

Artwork by theDURRRRIAN

My links (follow me):
MARVEL: www.nomalez.tumblr.com/tagged/marvel
THE AVENGERS: www.nomalez.tumblr.com/tagged/avengers

rainnecassidy:

minuialeth75:

arachnomatic:

jetgreguar:

allrightcallmefred:

fredscience:

The Doorway Effect: Why your brain won’t let you remember what you were doing before you came in here
I work in a lab, and the way our lab is set up, there are two adjacent rooms, connected by both an outer hallway and an inner doorway. I do most of my work on one side, but every time I walk over to the other side to grab a reagent or a box of tips, I completely forget what I was after. This leads to a lot of me standing with one hand on the freezer door and grumbling, “What the hell was I doing?” It got to where all I had to say was “Every damn time” and my labmate would laugh. Finally, when I explained to our new labmate why I was standing next to his bench with a glazed look in my eyes, he was able to shed some light. “Oh, yeah, that’s a well-documented phenomenon,” he said. “Doorways wipe your memory.”
Being the gung-ho new science blogger that I am, I decided to investigate. And it’s true! Well, doorways don’t literally wipe your memory. But they do encourage your brain to dump whatever it was working on before and get ready to do something new. In one study, participants played a video game in which they had to carry an object either across a room or into a new room. Then they were given a quiz. Participants who passed through a doorway had more trouble remembering what they were doing. It didn’t matter if the video game display was made smaller and less immersive, or if the participants performed the same task in an actual room—the results were similar. Returning to the room where they had begun the task didn’t help: even context didn’t serve to jog folks’ memories.
The researchers wrote that their results are consistent with what they call an “event model” of memory. They say the brain keeps some information ready to go at all times, but it can’t hold on to everything. So it takes advantage of what the researchers called an “event boundary,” like a doorway into a new room, to dump the old info and start over. Apparently my brain doesn’t care that my timer has seconds to go—if I have to go into the other room, I’m doing something new, and can’t remember that my previous task was antibody, idiot, you needed antibody.
Read more at Scientific American, or the original study.

I finally learned why I completely space when I cross to the other side of the lab, and that I’m apparently not alone.

this is actually kind of great and it’s nice to know there’s something behind that constant spacing out whenever i enter a different place

There’s a notorious corner (or possibly the doorway before it) where all the art teachers just stop and stare blankly for a while before going on with our day.

OMG. That’s what happens when you go to another room to get something but when you actually arrive in the other room, you can’t remember what you were going to fetch, or even why you’re in that room. Wow.Aaand just realised it never happens to me downstairs in my house because it’s an open space without doorways. Mind blown.

Thank you, science side of Tumblr!

rainnecassidy:

minuialeth75:

arachnomatic:

jetgreguar:

allrightcallmefred:

fredscience:

The Doorway Effect: Why your brain won’t let you remember what you were doing before you came in here

I work in a lab, and the way our lab is set up, there are two adjacent rooms, connected by both an outer hallway and an inner doorway. I do most of my work on one side, but every time I walk over to the other side to grab a reagent or a box of tips, I completely forget what I was after. This leads to a lot of me standing with one hand on the freezer door and grumbling, “What the hell was I doing?” It got to where all I had to say was “Every damn time” and my labmate would laugh. Finally, when I explained to our new labmate why I was standing next to his bench with a glazed look in my eyes, he was able to shed some light. “Oh, yeah, that’s a well-documented phenomenon,” he said. “Doorways wipe your memory.”

Being the gung-ho new science blogger that I am, I decided to investigate. And it’s true! Well, doorways don’t literally wipe your memory. But they do encourage your brain to dump whatever it was working on before and get ready to do something new. In one study, participants played a video game in which they had to carry an object either across a room or into a new room. Then they were given a quiz. Participants who passed through a doorway had more trouble remembering what they were doing. It didn’t matter if the video game display was made smaller and less immersive, or if the participants performed the same task in an actual room—the results were similar. Returning to the room where they had begun the task didn’t help: even context didn’t serve to jog folks’ memories.

The researchers wrote that their results are consistent with what they call an “event model” of memory. They say the brain keeps some information ready to go at all times, but it can’t hold on to everything. So it takes advantage of what the researchers called an “event boundary,” like a doorway into a new room, to dump the old info and start over. Apparently my brain doesn’t care that my timer has seconds to go—if I have to go into the other room, I’m doing something new, and can’t remember that my previous task was antibody, idiot, you needed antibody.

Read more at Scientific American, or the original study.

I finally learned why I completely space when I cross to the other side of the lab, and that I’m apparently not alone.

this is actually kind of great and it’s nice to know there’s something behind that constant spacing out whenever i enter a different place

There’s a notorious corner (or possibly the doorway before it) where all the art teachers just stop and stare blankly for a while before going on with our day.

OMG. That’s what happens when you go to another room to get something but when you actually arrive in the other room, you can’t remember what you were going to fetch, or even why you’re in that room. Wow.
Aaand just realised it never happens to me downstairs in my house because it’s an open space without doorways. Mind blown.

Thank you, science side of Tumblr!

Thursday, August 28, 2014
sodomymcscurvylegs:

symmetrical-twin:

perpetualcombustioninstruction:

revereche:

bogleech:

elvenrainbow:

shitsuren-chama:

ocean-child-love:

kaibas-paragraphical-mind:

what-is-a-homestuck:

WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT

YOU COULD BE A FUCKING BADASS DRAGON THAT’S THE POINT

"I AM A CREATURE OF DARKNESS" "oh hey sabrina."

I guess the point is that you could shapeshift into the body you always thought you’d grow into when you were a kid
taller, shorter, slimmer, more muscular, purple hair, tattoos everywhere, tattoos nowhere, 
every single shoe would fit you every single time you tried it on, every single article of clothing would fit your perfectly, all you have to do is transform slightly, you’d never run out of ‘your size’ again
and you wouldn’t have to work for it at all, and you’d never be limitted by your bone structure or something. You could just transform at will.



I don’t see how this is much of a downside
When you turn into a sixty story tentacle demon and terrorize a city you want to get the credit you deserve

Oh man that would be so sweet. I could be an annoying fuck as an insect or something but you couldn’t kill me because everyone would know

That’s great but have you considered
~cosplay
~Halloween costumes
~acting
~cosplay
~stretching to reach stuff and shrinking to fit through spaces
~cosplay
~cosplay
~COSPLAY



“When you turn into a sixty story tentacle demon and terrorize a city you want to get the credit you deserve.”This person speaks to my soul.

sodomymcscurvylegs:

symmetrical-twin:

perpetualcombustioninstruction:

revereche:

bogleech:

elvenrainbow:

shitsuren-chama:

ocean-child-love:

kaibas-paragraphical-mind:

what-is-a-homestuck:

WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT

YOU COULD BE A FUCKING BADASS DRAGON THAT’S THE POINT

"I AM A CREATURE OF DARKNESS" "oh hey sabrina."

I guess the point is that you could shapeshift into the body you always thought you’d grow into when you were a kid

taller, shorter, slimmer, more muscular, purple hair, tattoos everywhere, tattoos nowhere, 

every single shoe would fit you every single time you tried it on, every single article of clothing would fit your perfectly, all you have to do is transform slightly, you’d never run out of ‘your size’ again

and you wouldn’t have to work for it at all, and you’d never be limitted by your bone structure or something. You could just transform at will.

I don’t see how this is much of a downside

When you turn into a sixty story tentacle demon and terrorize a city you want to get the credit you deserve

Oh man that would be so sweet. I could be an annoying fuck as an insect or something but you couldn’t kill me because everyone would know

That’s great but have you considered

~cosplay

~Halloween costumes

~acting

~cosplay

~stretching to reach stuff and shrinking to fit through spaces

~cosplay

~cosplay

~COSPLAY

When you turn into a sixty story tentacle demon and terrorize a city you want to get the credit you deserve.”

This person speaks to my soul.

(Source: lana-del-reyquaza)