Omg I’m going to die it’s too cute
He popped the first two. Now he carries this one very gently
In response to this (x)
Damn Dwayne handed Jared Padalecki’s ass to him
wow, good job Mr. Johnson
this is the most appropriate time in history to use that smackdown .gif
For my bb, We were talking bait petticoats and morikei and tada!
It’s petticoat sale time! Check out the flyer & site for details!
I want RED and BLUE,
as well as PEACOCK and LAVENDER
someone should spoil me
I’m tired and a stubbed my toe while putting away my christmas tree
normally i’d accept kisses for my boo boo’s, but one of these will do <3 lol
Written in the Bones. New comic, written by Christopher M. Jones & illustrated by Carey Pietsch.
I’m hoping to have printed copies of this at MOCCA, ABPCC, and TCAF this spring, and SPX in the fall! More info to come.
Me and Carey worked really hard on this comic; if you got something from it I’d love for you to reblog it, and maybe even buy a copy from Carey when she’s in town or even if she’s not. Thanks so much for reading.
no its totally cool
im just fucking sobbing
In some older versions of Persephone’s story, she was a young woman, not a young girl, and instead of accidentally wandering away, she had gone deliberately adventuring, when she fell, or was lured, or was kidnapped into Hell. Here Persephone’s adventurous spirit leads her into difficulty, instead of her being a passive victim of the wickedness of others. Her relationship with her mother gives her the courage to explore her world, and when events take a bad turn, their relationship gives her the strength to survive.
In a still older version, Persephone heard the despairing cries of the dead and chose freely to go into the Underworld to comfort them. Hades does not appear at all, in this version. Here Persephone’s descent to hell illustrates inclusiveness for every being, whether in the Underworld or in our present one, and shows that mercy is integral to her nature.
In the most ancient layer of myth, Persephone’s name means “She Who Destroys The Light.” She was the powerful Goddess of the Underworld long before anyone knew of Hades. Like the Indian Kali, the Irish Morrigan, and the Sumerian Ereshkegal, she was the Goddess of Death.
This one really pisses me off, because I have used the phrase ‘tastes like poverty’ to describe my aversion, as an adult, to certain foods that were present in my childhood at times that other foods weren’t available because we were poor. I can’t each zucchini now because it tastes like poverty. Dry milk tastes like poverty. Store brand ‘pork and beans’ taste like poverty.
It used to be a phrase that I’d use with other people who grew up poor, and when used in the context I would use it, I’ve had people say ‘Yes, exactly that!’ and mention their own food aversions, things like unflavored instant oatmeal and boxed macaroni and cheese with the powdered cheese mix (always the store brand) and low-quality cheese singles and store-brand hot dogs. Foods that we ate as kids because it was that or go hungry, and we were lucky to have that. Foods that we can’t/won’t eat as adults and refuse to give to our kids because we don’t want them to feel the way it felt to eat those foods.
Because they tasted like poverty.
this shit so fucking hard
and how now as an adult who can, mostly, procure my own food on my own budget— you accidently let some things spoil because you save them— because you’ve been conditioned that some foods are more special and important than other foods. they can only be eaten at certain times because you never know when the next time youll have the extra money for it again
and how, now that its your own budget, you end up making grocery care packages to the members of your family who didn’t make it that one inch outside of being broke as shit (like you did)
basically fuck any and everyone whose never been poor but talks about how poverty tastes.
What if Thomas Builds-The-Fire from Smoke Signals was a hunter on Supernatural?
*sometime in season 2*
Thomas: Hey, Winchesters! Sorry about your dad.
Sam: How’d you hear about that, Thomas?
Thomas: Oh, I heard it on the wind. I heard it from the birds. I felt it in the sunlight. And Bobby Singer was just cryin’ about it over the phone.