low docs

I love witchy girls.

girls with potting soil caked nails. girls with pentacle necklaces and kitty cat brass knuckle rings. girls kissed by the sun and have sea salt swept hair. girls with black lace high-low skirts and doc martins. daughters of the moon and the raging sea. girls with smoky eyes and matte crimson lipstick. girls who write in runes and speak in ancient languages. girls who smell like incense and musky perfume. girls in tattoo chokers and crystal point necklaces.

changeling girls with ancient wise eyes. dark skinned goth girls with sigil painted nails. girls with honey tongues that drip with sanguine sin and sapphic sweetness. girls with dark eye circles kept awake by prophetic dreams. girls who are embodiments of a thunderstorm. girls who have oven scorched fingers and smell like cinnamon buns.

I love witchy girls.

Omg you know what would be funny though. Is for the mercs to end up finding Doc and them having to keep Doc with them

‘About time someone found me! You know how long I’ve been stuck in there. Oh. It’s just you two. So you’re working together now? That’s cool I guess.’

Doc criticizing Locus’ armour. ‘Y’know, that voice filter is pretty intimidating but it’s a little over the top don’t you think. And what’s up with the X on your helmet, I mean, the colour is okay, but eenh.’ 

Locus stares at Doc. ‘Stop talking.’

‘What’s with the temper, jeez, you remind me of Washington. So hostile. You should lighten up! Have you tried yoga?’

Locus looks over to Felix, and Felix just snickers “Hey it was your dumb idea to keep him alive.” Locus sighs and walks away. “Awh come on Locs, he was just joking!”

“Locs? That a nickname?”

“Yeah, he loves it.”

CSSS Gift: Four Seasons (2/4)

A/N: For @captainswan4e as part of Captain Swan Secret Santa 2016.

Thanks go to @lenfaz, for always being the best partner in crime and for general hand holding and image searching. You’re the best, L.

Summary: Four seasons. Four windows on life between the storybook pages.

Summer | Fall | Winter | Spring



September rolls in and with it comes her parents’ anniversary - depending on how you counted, either their 35th or their 7th. Emma and Henry decide they don’t much care which it is, it’s been quiet in Storybrooke for months and they deserve a celebration that doesn’t come as a bookend to another battle fought.

They talk of keeping it low key, but then Doc overhears them and next thing Emma knows she’s watching her son and the dwarf hunch over endless numbers of sketches of the town square replete in tents and strings of lights. Granny drops by their table the following night, leaving behind menu options and giving Emma a look that clearly conveys she isn’t going to brook an argument about being involved. When Belle and Ashley follow with ideas for table decorations and plans for music, she glances over to Killian who merely shakes his and says, “no use fighting all of them, love.” It’s when Regina shows up at the house though, purportedly dropping off a textbook Henry forgot, and announces she’ll be providing the dessert – Nothing with apples, I swear – that Emma knows it is of absolutely no use arguing about keeping it small.

Keep reading

No I’m legit serious, how are y’all getting chapter 15 when chapter 14 is barely up?!?!!

The difference of a year. Im not sure what I weighed in the first pic. I think around 350lbs, my highest weight being 365lbs. The pic today is around 282lbs.
For five months I lost/gained the same 15lbs by trying to use techniques that wouldnt work, eating small bits of poor food, and hardly working out.
Mid-December I finally decided it was time to stick to low carb (which is doc recommended for my thyroid) and work out 3 times a week. With school I havent worked out as much, but I still feel good and am losing weight. This just gave me the push to get a small salad instead of pasta at dinner tomorrow, and follow my goals.
I wish I could see my progress when I look at myself, part of me worries Ill always see who I was 80lbs ago, but Im not going to focus on that. I have summer to prepare for. 😄💪

Hi, I’m Immortan-Joe Hokey, Australian Treasure Hider for the Parliament Funkadelic.

Despite looking like a crooked, smug, fart-sniffing, thick-necked, no-lip, boiled-egg-eating, pancake-destroying, walrus-bodied, Sopranos-reject, bloated, fucking-goombah, I’m actually an all-round great guy, a man of the people. All of my maids tell me that.

Anyone born after about 1995 is pretty much screwed because all of the people born before then have made housing anywhere near the CBD unaffordable. We’ve had the benefit of stimulus packages, low interest rates, low-doc or no-doc lending practices, first homebuyer schemes and wages that are commensurate with housing prices.

Prior to 1995 the banks’ lending practice was to loan a person a maximum of about 4 times their salary to purchase a house. That put an artificial, but tangible, cap on housing prices, somewhere in the realistic reach of most Australians earning an average wage.

Fast forward to 2015, meet Average Joe. Average Joe is on the average wage of $75,000. The average Sydney property price is estimated to reach $1m by the end of the year, or 13 times Average Joe’s average wage.

This means Average Joe can’t realistically own an average home. With the average Sydney rent around $600 a week, he will never be able to save enough to get a deposit, to get a $1m loan, to ‘buy’ a house. I say 'buy’ because really, the bank owns Joe’s house for the next 30 years, until he pays off his $1m mortgage.

With interest rates at 5.5%, everyone, including Average Joe and me, Immortan Joe, thinks that housing is affordable. But let’s do something I don’t really like doing as the Tressure Hunter of Australia, it’s called math. We’ll keep it basic because that’s all I can handle. For instance, let’s take a look at Average Joe on $75,000 and the average house price of $1m.

If you calculate a mortgage with a 30 year loan, for $1m, at 5.5% interest the total interest payment is $1,044,040. Let that sink in for a second. That’s more than the amount of the loan, just in interest.  Add to that the repayment of the principal of $1m, and the total cost of an average house over 30 years is $2,044,040.

30 years might seem like a long time to put a house on lay-buy, maybe you could pay off more, earlier? Well hold on there Donald Trump, lets take a look at this month by month.

From his $75,000 a year, Average Joe earns a net income $4427 a month. The 'minimum’ monthly repayment on Joe’s million dollar loan is $5678.

This means that if Joe never ate, never paid any bills, never went out with his friends, never bought a present for anyone, never bought lunch, never serviced his car, refilled it, never caught public transport, never bought any clothes, never had the internet, Netflix, a gym membership, never posted a letter, never bought furniture for his house, never bought a coffee or had a pet… and put every single cent into his 'average’ home loan, he would still miss his repayments by $1251 a month, or $15,000 a year (which he would be charged another $800 a year on that missed amount at 5.5% interest).  

Let’s say interest rates went up, by a few percent, say 1.5% in the next few years and remained stable. That mortgage interest payment would now be $1,395,066 or $350,000 more than the loan at an interest rate of 5.5%.

To put that extra $350,000 in perspective, Joe’s $75,000 a year is actually $53,000 after tax. That’s another 6.6 years of annual salary for Average Joe. So for Joe, if he took out a loan at 35, and expected to retire and own his home at 65 he would be mistaken. He wouldn’t be able to retire until he was 71.6. Oh and don’t forget, Average Joe was short $1251 on the 5.5% loan each month. Joe is more likely to die before he owns his home.

What’s my advice for Average Joe. Just get a better job. Get on SEEK and go for it! Don’t work a job that pays less than $75,000 or even $100,000 a year. Just refuse to. Someone will find you and pay you more, because of stuff.

If that doesn’t work, just become a boring lawyer, dentist, banker, doctor or some other job with the highest suicide rate, worst working hours and highest incidence of depression. Forget pursuing a creative career and the dream of owning a home, they’re mutually exclusive now.  Instead, devote yourself to being a ruthless, cutthroat money obsessed corporate prostitute drone.

Here are my other great ideas for home ownership and riches, officially endorsed by the Department of Treasury:

  • be born into a rich family, you can do this early on in life by only being ejaculated out of the balls of a man who either has lots of generational wealth, or is going to be successful (look into the future for this), or make sure you hook up with the egg of a similar woman (again, look into the future and choose your balls/egg combination wisely)
  • develop an interest in corporate law, banking or cardiology from an early age (7 or under) if you aren’t into these topics in your youth then make yourself interested in them, the other option is being poor and not driving
  • get in a time machine and travel back to the Pilbara in 2002 and get a job doing pretty much anything, like a janitor on $150,000 or a lollipop-man-for-trucks on $170,000
  • sell your vagina/anus to pay off your HECS debt (i.e. become a highly paid whore)
  • be a young attractive woman and baby-trap a rich man (i.e. go to a bar frequented by investment bankers and have sex with one of them while lying about being on the pill, give birth to a golden goose baby)
  • join a bikie gang and sell marijuana or crystal in bulk (note!: don’t get murdered or arrested, this is bad for your credit rating)
  • create the “car-house”, my car-house is a 2005 Kia Sorrento. I’m making some money on it by renting the glove box to an international student
  • be a networker, people love other people who network, constantly pressure people into becoming your clients, they love this
  • get a TER score of 99.98 or higher, just beat the competition from elite private schools with great teachers and/or Chinese supercomputer children, become an accountant
  • steal from the elderly, children, cars, work, everywhere, just take it, take things and pretend you didn’t do it, you are Winona Ryder
  • invent gold
  • Save every cent you earn, never associate with friends. Get comfortable being described as 'frugal’, 'tight’ 'cheap’ or 'stingey’, don’t enjoy life, just be obsessed with money. Never pay your share.
  • cheat a skewed tax system, tell your employer you 'only take cash’, claim your tax deductions as tax deductions, invent 12 children you need support payments for
  • walk out of restaurants without paying, or eating, because you can’t afford anything at McDonalds anyway, this is also known as 'not eating’.
  • get a second job at night driving for Uber, wait tables, work mornings at a bakery then night shifts at a local steel mill, never sleep, become Eminem sell 100 million albums
  • murder your landlord and assume their identity, your new name is The Talented Mrs Joan Jenkins
  • become immortal, work for 600 years non-stop and treat yourself with a holiday in Kuta, or Seminyak if you’re a real fuckin snob and saved well
  • marry an investment banker who looks like Alf and probably has the personality of a shoe (my favourite)
  • join FIFA, the Australian Wheat Board, Australian Water Holdings, a drug squad, or other corrupt organisation such as a local government council or workers union management and take bribes
  • make your own house out of materials from around the hou… oh wait…
  • buy a house from Ray’s Outdoor Camping World. People might call this a 'tent’ but that is an ancient word for 'house’. You now own a 'house’.


shoes that are appealing to the eye and match your aesthetic.

“adidas superstars, nike air force 1s, and low doc martens give great shoesthetic pleasure.”