I have been saving this since last year. Happy Earth Day everyone.

Happy earth day

wizard tip of the day: we have crazy and insane new genders you havent even heard of

The landlord fears the urban oyster mushroom farmer

I have seen this on every social media site and folks- if your home is damp enough to get full fruity flushes of oyster mushrooms (from stray spores from a grow bag batch), they are the LEAST of your worries. You know what doesn’t produce highly visible fruiting bodies? Most molds. And wood rot. Go ahead and grow them indoors, because they’re a canary in the coal mine if they start fruiting anywhere.

^ the above reblog right here!!! People in the notes saying "don't do this!!!" Are missing the part where people are not deliberately growing Oyster Mushrooms all over their apartment, but that the stray spores from Mushroom Growing Kits are revealing systemic dampness problems that Landlords cannot dismiss and forces them to take action.

Mina, via Victorian group text: fangface on his way GET HIS ASS xoxo

Jonathan: Thank God! Can't wait to show him my Final Invoice (kissing his Kukri knife).

Dr. VH: Uh, maybe cool it with taking the Lord's name in vain right before we throw hands with a vampire, bud.

Jonathan: I would walk backwards into hell and flip off God if it meant I could kill this guy twice.

Dr. VH: Jonathan, my brother in Christ! You don't mean that!

Jonathan "Holiest Love" Harker, who would become a vampire just so that Mina shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone:

You know how to ball I know Aristotle

The Boy With A Pearl Earring A study of Nicholas Galitzine's (as George Villiers) face and the Vermeer painting x x

crazy that in the 1970s they were like, "fine, women can play sports. but because they're innately less athletic than men, only in a special ghettoized League For The Frail And Delicate where they get paid less 😊". And not only is that still the system in 2023, but viciously lashing out at the smallest challenges to that system gets framed as Feminist Praxis

even setting aside the fact that gendered bodytype averages aren't universals, and plenty of individual (cis) women and (cis) men could easily go to toe to toe. have we considered that the fact that all the most prominent and well-paid sports are ones that require things like Being Tall and Having Muscle Mass, as opposed to, ex, gymnastics...is itself an artifact of sexism

also to people who are like "well do you think WOMEN should be playing AMERICAN FOOTBALL against MEN" actually I don't think anyone should be playing american football on account of, you know, the irreversible brain damage.

me every day without fail: I'll do [chore] when I get home

me when I get home:

me every single week: I'll do it on the weekend!

me the entire weekend:

how do draw good

this fucking post

i finally found it

It’s accurate

public service announcement

I keep getting people asking about bowling on this post so I’m just gonna repost this drawing I made on Twitter

How did her grandmother fill 4 vases?

She was a very large woman. Easily 12 feet tall.

then why the heck is her family not tall too?!?!

Pop-pop was very small so it canceled out.

autumntides

10h

"In the instance an employer makes an illegal request for a photograph as part of a job application, you may submit a complaint to the United States Equal Employment Opportunity Commission." Successful violation fee collections are paid partially to the one who suffered the violation, which in many cases exceeds a year of work at these shit jobs. There's only two weak points to a corporation, and those are in the budget and in the supply chain. Hit them where it hurts.

Fucking word.

Learn your rights!

AUTO REBLOG IN CASE YOU MISSED THIS THE 1ST TIME AROUND.  It is important to KNOW YOUR RIGHTS.

When I was a very suicidal trans activist in Texas, Benjamin Sisko saying “sure, you would [die for your people]. Dying gets you off the hook. The question is: are you willing to live for your people?” changed and possibly saved my life. It’s up there with “if we are going to be damned, let us be damned for who we really are” from Picard. Star Trek not only shows us a better world, it teaches us how to make it there

It's incredible how people have been protesting pants and skirts not having pockets but not a single peep is heard over the fact that skirts no longer have underskirts by default. Underskirts (or lining) was a thing when I was a child, no skirt would be made without lining, you didn't have to think and check if your whole ass is visible in a skirt because lining was a thing!!!! Now most skirts don't and it's simply because it's cheaper, fuck the fact that a customer doesn't want their panties shown in broad daylight, it saves a couple of cents on material.

okay so this has definitely breached containment and I want to point something out:

you, reading this. you're a creature now. reblog to creature your followers

get creatured idiot

oh thank fuck i thought i was never gonna get creatured

can i jsut say… isnt it insane that polar bears go underground like imagine just walking along with a shovel and u start digging a hole and a bear is in there

THEYRE JUST? THERE…. IN THE SNOW

I know it‘s supposed to be scary that there is apex predators just potentially sleeping under the surface of the snow like some kind of greek mythology monster but it just makes me laugh bc them living in holes just means polar bears just have little houses and look out of their little windows like:

I love genuinely innocent “boys will be boys.” Just saw a guy come out of a frat house to poke a pair of jeans they’d left outside - they were frozen solid, and as soon as he confirmed that, like twenty more boys came rushing out of the house going “YOOOOOOOOOO”

I heard grunting outside my window the other night and there were four boys struggling to push this giant snowball (like 7 foot diameter) down the sidewalk.

I once lost my keys at a frat house.

My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch.  Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out.  I do not remember this part.

The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house.  I stood there, right in front of the front door.  This was a novel experience for me.  I’d never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.

A boy, presumably of the house, asked me what I was doing. 

“I lost my keys in here last night,” I called back.  “I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?”

He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.

“Go wherever you want.”

I’d never seen a frat house post-party before.  Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light.  A few of them threw puzzled glances my way.  I’m sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.

I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.

“Do you like dog movies?” he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.

I told him I did.

He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing.  I told him I was looking for my keys.

“Sorry, I haven’t seen any keys around here.”

I didn’t doubt him.

Twenty minutes had passed.  I’d searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house.  I’d given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates’ forgiveness and get a new set copied.

As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.

“You need help with something?”

“I lost my keys here last night and I can’t find them, I’ve looked everywhere.”

“What do they look like?  I’ll put it into the group chat.”  He was already pulling out his phone.

No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell.  It was worth a shot.  “Um, it’s just a ring of keys.  The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big.  Like bright pink, you can’t miss it.”

He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.

“Alright, I sent the message out.  Good luck.”

And with that, he turned and left.

A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering.  It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder.  One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.

“Someone tell the girl!” One of them shouted, faceless in the mob.  “Girl!  Hey, GIRL!!!  We found your keys, girl!!!”

They circled around me.  I hadn’t felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old.  One of them split himself off from the crowd.

“Are these -” he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, “your keys?”

And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.

“Yes,” I whispered.  “Oh my god, yes.”

“EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”

The cheer went up.

Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs.  I thanked them again profusely.  There was a scattered round of “no problems” and then, just as suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night.

*booking an mri* what if I accidentally have a pacemaker. what if I got secret bone surgery and forgot about the pins