based off this text post because its adorable
look at how cute this is
apparently some guy named mark was trying to tell my mom he needed to speak with my dad about any financial transactions my mom was making because he was the man of the house and she did not take kindly to his implying that my dad was the primary breadwinner/person in charge in our family so
Mud + Pup = True happiness.
The third one with its entire lower body in mud made me yell “ARTAX NO” at my computer.
I DID NOT KNOW SIRI COULD DO THIS REBLOG TO SAVE SOMEONES LIFE
My 9 year old brother started reading Harry Potter, and he asked me, so earnestly, “Were the Dursley’s mean to Harry when he was little?” I hadn’t thought much about it before, and he seemed so upset that I totally lied to that little kid. “NO! Of course they weren’t.”
But then I couldn’t get young Harry out of my head. There must have been a time before he was resigned to their neglect that he wanted their affection.
There will never be a time when I am not absolutely broken up over this.
Over the past few years, an aesthetic we like to call “snackwave” has trickled up from Tumblr dashboards. Now a part of mainstream culture, snackwave is everywhere: it’s printed on American Apparel clothes and seen in Katy Perry music videos. It’s the antithesis to kale-ridden health food culture and the rise of Pinterest-worthy twee cupcake recipes. It’s the wording in your Instagram handle, a playful cheeseburger selfie, Jennifer Lawrence announcing on the red carpet that she’s hungry for a pizza. In snackwave world, everyone is Claudia Kishi, and your junk food drawer is also your blog. What we’ve written here…
Exhibit A on why my friends hazelcills and gabbytwelveoclocke are the smartest fucking people I know and all of us are coming to take everyone’s jobs because look at this, isn’t it a revelation? Isn’t it beyond? It’s beyond.
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs; Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
As a young writer, Alcott concentrated on lurid pulp stories of revenge, murder, and adultery–“blood and thunder” literature, as she called i–and enjoyed writing very much. She was in her mid 30s when an editor suggested she try writing a book for girls. Alcott wasn’t very interested, but her father was a complete moron with money and had left the family in terrible financial trouble. Alcott wrote Little Women in hopes of some decent sales and a little breathing room and got way more than she asked for. The money in sequels was too good to turn down (and her father didn’t get any smarter with a dime), but Alcott hated writing what she called “moral pap for the young” and longed to return to the smut and violence of her early endeavors.
There’s a play about this called “Little Women: The Tragedy”, by the feminist theater group Split Britches. Having read some of her pulpy gothic horror stuff, I can verify that she had a real gift for it!
took a break from commissions to draw a cute thing~