I really really needed this wow
i caNNOT STOP LAUGHING
LOOK AT THOSE POSITIVE ROLE MODELS
SAY NO TO PEER PRESSURE
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

#extradirty
Cosimo Galluzzi

JBB: An Artblog!

Kiana Khansmith
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
wallacepolsom
sheepfilms
Misplaced Lens Cap
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Jules of Nature

styofa doing anything

shark vs the universe
Acquired Stardust

blake kathryn
đŞź
ojovivo
One Nice Bug Per Day

seen from T1

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seen from United States
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@captain-silly-string
I really really needed this wow
i caNNOT STOP LAUGHING
LOOK AT THOSE POSITIVE ROLE MODELS
SAY NO TO PEER PRESSURE

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When I was nine, possibly ten, an author came to our school to talk about writing. His name was Hugh Scott, and I doubt heâs known outside of Scotland. And even then I havenât seen him on many shelves in recent years in Scotland either. But he wrote wonderfully creepy childrenâs stories, where the supernatural was scary, but it was the mundane that was truly terrifying. At least to little ten year old me. It was Scooby Doo meets Paranormal Activity with a bonny braw Scottish-ness to it that Iâd never experienced before.
I remember him as a gangling man with a wiry beard that made him look older than he probably was, and he carried a leather bag filled with paper. He had a pen too that was shaped like a carrot, and he used it to scribble down notes between answering our (frankly disinterested) questions. We had no idea who he was you see, no one had made an effort to introduce us to his books. We were simply told one morning, âclass 1b, there is an author here to talk to you about writingâ, and this you see was our introduction to creative writing. Weâd surpassed finger painting and macaroni collages. It was time to attempt Words That Were Untrue.
You could tell from the look on Mrs Mâs face she thought it was a waste of time. I remember her sitting off to one side marking papers while this tall man sat down on our ridiculously short chairs, and tried to talk to us about what it meant to tell a story. She wasnât big on telling stories, Mrs M. She was also one of the teachers who used to take my books away from me because they were âtoo complicatedâ for me, despite the fact that I was reading them with both interest and ease. When dad found out he hit the roof. Itâs the one and only time he ever showed up to the school when it wasnât parents night or the school play. After that she just left me alone, but she made it clear to my parents that she resented the fact that a ten year old used words like âubiquitousâ in their essays. Presumably because she had to look it up.
Anyway, Mr Scott, was doing his best to talk to us while Mrs M made scoffing noises from her corner every so often, and you could just tell he was deflating faster than a bouncy castle at a knife sharpening party, so when he asked if any of us had any further questions and no one put their hand up I felt awful. I knew this was not only insulting but also humiliating, even if we were only little children. So I did the only thing I could think of, put my hand up and said âWhy do you write?â
Iâd always read about characters blinking owlishly, but Iâd never actually seen it before. But thatâs what he did, peering down at me from behind his wire rim spectacles and dragging tired fingers through his curly beard. I donât think he expected anyone to ask why he wrote stories. What he wrote about, and where he got his ideas from maybe, and certainly why he wrote about ghosts and other creepy things, but probably not why do you write. And I think he thought perhaps he could have got away with âbecause itâs fun, and learning is fun, right kids?!â, but part of me will always remember the way the world shifted ever so slightly as it does when something important is about to happen, and this tall streak of a man looked down at me, narrowed his eyes in an assessing manner and said, âBecause people told me not to, and words are important.â
I nodded, very seriously in the way children do, and knew this to be a truth. In my limited experience at that point, I knew certain people (with a sidelong glance to Mrs M who was in turn looking at me as though sheâd just known itâd be me that type of question) didnât like fiction. At least certain types of fiction. I knew for instance that Mrs M liked to read Pride and Prejudice on her lunch break but only because it was sensible fiction, about people that could conceivably be real. The idea that one could not relate to a character simply because they had pointy ears or a jet pack had never occurred to me, and the fact that itâs now twenty years later and people are still arguing about the validity of genre fiction is beyond me, but right there in that little moment, I knew something important had just transpired, with my teacher glaring at me, and this man who told stories to live beginning to smile. After that the audience turned into a two person conversation, with gradually more and more of my classmates joining in because suddenly it was fun. Mrs M was pissed and this bedraggled looking man who might have been Santa after some serious dieting, was starting to enjoy himself. As it turned out we had all of his books in our tiny corner library, and in the words of my friend Andrew âhey thereâs a giant spider fighting a ghost on this cover! neat!â and the presentation devolved into chaos as we all began reading different books at once and asking questions about each one. âDoes she live?ââ âWhat about the talking treesâ ââis the ghost evil?â ââcan I go to the bathroom, Miss?â ââWow neat, more spiders!â
After that we were supposed to sit down, quietly (glare glare) and write a short story to show what we had learned from listening to Mr Scott. I wont pretend I wrote anything remotely good, I was ten and all I could come up with was a story about a magic carrot that made you see words in the dark, but Mr Scott seemed to like it. In fact he seemed to like all of them, probably because they were done with such vibrant enthusiasm in defiance of the people who didnât want us to.
The following year, when Iâd moved into Mrs Hâs classâthe kind of woman that didnât take away books from children who loved to read and let them write nonsense in the back of their journals provided they got all their work doneâa letter arrived to the school, carefully wedged between several copies of a book which was unheard of at the time, by a new author known as J.K. Rowling. Mrs H remarked that it was strange that an author would send copies of books that werenât even his to a school, but I knew why heâd done it. I knew before Mrs H even read the letter.
Because words are important. Words are magical. Theyâre powerful. And that power ought to be shared. Thereâs no petty rivalry between story tellers, although thereâs plenty who try to insinuate it. Thereâs plenty who try to say some words are more valuable than others, that somehow their meaning is more important because of when it was written and by whom. Those are the same people who laud Shakespeare from the heavens but refuse to acknowledge that the quote âSome are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon themâ is a dick joke.
And although Mr Scott seems to have faded from public literary consumption, I still think about him. I think about his stories, I think about how he recommended another author and sent copies of her books because he knew our school was a puritan shithole that fought against the Wrong Type of Wordes and would never buy them into the library otherwise. But mostly I think about how he looked at a ten year old like an equal and told her words and important, and people will try to keep you from writing themâso write them anyway.
*sobs for like the umpteenth time this day and reblogs the fuck out of this*
out of all the posts on this site meant to help people get and keep the urge to write, i think this one speaks the most to me. because of all the voices saying your writing is dumb, one of the most insidious is the one in your own head.
i think i finally have something to fight back with now
âWhy do you write?â
âBecause people told me not to[.]â
Hugh Scott won the Whitbread Prize for âWhy Weeps the Brogan?â
Amazon.co.uk has very little available from him, but making âLikely Storiesâ better known seems a good idea.
Iâm certainly getting a copy for the workbook shelfâŚ
harry potter books as clickbait articles
Crazy But True⌠This Man Will Do ANYTHING To Live Forever!
You Wonât Believe This Bathroomâs Incredible Secret
How Did One Man Escape Azkaban? The Answer Will Blow Your Mind
Uh-Oh! Hereâs One Enchanted Goblet Mixup You CANâT Miss
These Kidsâ Reactions To Their New Teacherâs Rules Is Inspiring
Is It Cheating? One Studentâs Trick To Acing Potions Class
7 Objects You Didnât Know Contained Pieces Of The Dark Lordâs Soul
Forget the Myers-Briggs fucking personality assessment. I am dead tired of hearing if someone is an INFP or an ESLQ or whatever. I want to know if someone is melancholic or choleric. Bring back the four humors. I wanna see âKaley, 16, phlegmaticâ when I go to someoneâs blog. Who is with me. Lets make this happen
hereâs a test i found. go wild, y'all. (im choleric.)
i just took the test and iâm sanguine
Reblog this picture of me holding a Family Size box of Honey Nut Cheerios? Iâd really appreciate it.
How can I say no to such a great photo and such a polite request?
i will always support this post
@mooserattler back on my dash!
Why isnât this at a million notes, yet, Dante???
Iâm not sure. Hey lovely people who have taken me over half way to a cool million! If youâd like to reblog again, Iâd love that, if not, I still love you, and hope youâre having a great day. Iâm gonna go do some stand up tonight.
god come on weâre so close. this is like the only meaningful thing that this website could ever achieve
Thanks, @staff!!!!!
â¤ď¸ â¤ď¸ â¤ď¸

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ok a giraffe but⌠horse sized with a mario character extending from the ass
What?!!!
A Punny Story
I had this girlfriend once where things were getting pretty serious. We wanted to move in together, so we went looking for an apartment. The second one our real estate agent took us to was perfect, we both loved it, so we made the decision to move in. Our neighbour was a really nice guy named Joseph. His wife had left him a few years prior, leaving him alone to take care of his eight-year old son. I always felt kinda bad for the guy. He had this weird accent that was really hard to place.
Keep reading
*slams fist on desk* NOW THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE
Its more beautiful than you could ever imagineÂ
#why is putin the referee
YES
Dear teen girls,
Stop abusing your boyfriends and yes what you are doing is abuse.
Stop:
Yelling at him in front of his friendsÂ
Hitting or slapping him when he does or says something you donât like
Telling him he doesnât have a choice when it comes to decisions that involve both of youÂ
Telling him he canât hang out with friends because you donât like him
Telling him to not talk to other girls even if they are his friend
Forcing him to spend every moment with youÂ
Belittling him and pointing out all his flaws
Calling him stupid or making fun of him for making a mistake
Threatening to break up with him if he doesnât do what you want
Being emotionally manipulative and crying until he does what you want
Accusing him of cheating every time heâs not with you
Blow up is phone if he doesnât text you every five minutesÂ
Telling him you are the must thing that has ever happened to him and no one else will love
Physically attacking him when ever you are mad
Forcing him to have sex despite that fact that he said he didnât want to
Invading his privacy by going through his phone
Getting mad at him for changing his password and demanding he tell you what it is
If a guy did any of these things to a girl it would be considered abuse but since its the other way around its considered normal. Throughout High school I saw many girl treating their boyfriends like shit. Sometime even physically abusing them in the hallways and no one trying to stop it because its a girl attacking a boy.Â
Boys: If your girlfriend does anything on this list leave her. It is abuse and you deserve better.
Girls: if you find your self doing anything on this list to your boyfriend you need to knock it off because you are being abusive.Â
!!!!!!!! My brother was abused by his babies mom and it started like this and escalated to child abuse and neglect.
You donât deserve to be screamed at, ignored, or assaulted.
Not showing affection when she wants or not hugging her before class) or missing a phone call doesnât warrant getting cussed out or hit.
Lol, I lost 5 followers from reblogging this. Thatâs fine, y'all can go
Whole lot of grown women do this too.
Just wanna throw these in too
Being passive aggressive with him when he wants to spend time with friends or doing other thingsÂ
controlling when heâs able to go out with friends
Breaking up his friendships with other girls just because youâre insecure
Making him feel like his opinions in decisions that affect the both of you are irrelevant and donât matter
SENDING HIS NUMBER TO STRANGERS TO TEST IF HEâS LOYAL OR NOT
testing him in anyway in general without his knowledge or permission (example: catfishing! itâs manipulative and weird donât fucking do that)
taking money/credit cards without permission to spend on things without his knowledge ( had an ex friend do this constantly to her boyfriend and sheâd always condone it because âheâll get over itâ )
guilting him for hanging out with friends/family over you  and making him choose between you and friends/family
telling him âyou donât love me if you *insert harmless activity he wants to do here* â
being rude or mean to him in front of others to assert dominance or power over him
downloading apps to spy on his phone activity (yes, this is a thing ââregularââ people do) or snooping on his social media to see who heâs talking to
hitting him, slapping him, punching him, shoving him. literally how do people not understand slapping your male partner is bad. people tend to find this funny in media and society and its weird. KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF YOUR PARTNER WITHOUT PERMISSION.Â
I come from a family of very forward and manipulative women and i see it in media all the time. itâs fucked and people need to not be accepting of young girls acting like snot-nosed, abusive shit heads that think they can get away with manipulation and cruelty because they happen to be girls.
and let me add this. ABUSIVE TEEN GIRLFRIENDS TURN INTO ABUSIVE GROWN ASS WOMEN GIRLFRIENDS WHO TURN INTO ABUSIVE WIVES.
if you have an abusive teen or young adult gf right now fellas, leave. donât let her use you to get her shit right. youâll be so fucked up by the time she gets it together if she ever does and believe that most likely she wonât. Â
Can i just add that ive seen young queer girls do this to their girlfriends. Girls can be abusers and you are right to leave.Â
Women/young girls can definitely be just as abusive. I knew a young man that got ran over and had his leg broken by his girlfriend because (in her words he annoyed her) He refused to press charges. Another young lady started to hit her ex boyfriend because he wouldnât take her back because of the abuse. He called the cops on her and they literally started laughing at him because she was very petite in comparison to him. Anyone can be abusive and I wish more people understood that.
dammit Iâd spam my blog if i reblog this more than once but dude this is really important.

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kids have no concept of anything. i walked into my kindergarten class and one kid asked me what my name was. when i said miss jones, he said âi like that name. did you know iâm in love with youâ
i asked my four year old cousin how old he thought i was going to be at my next birthday and he said 8. im 23
once i told a 6 year old that i had finished school and was doing âmore schoolâ [university] and she asked âwhy havenât you found anyone to marry thenâ
We were at a museum and I was asking for the student discount and my nine year old cousin looks up at me with his eyes wide and says âwait youâre a STUDENT??â
I used to babysit these three kids and the eldest who was around 11 at the time was talking about how adults are boring and when I told him I was an adult he said, âThatâs not true, youâre my ageâ
our aunt teaches and she has this story about a little girl who really was always pretty quiet in class and then on the final day of kindergarten she just up and stated âiâm all teached now. i donât need to be teached anymore. iâm done of being teached.â
once when i was 19, I told my little cousin that i was 19 and she looked up at me with huge eyes and went, âDoes that mean you donât have to bring an adult with you to the pool?â
My 6 year old cousin saw me driving for the first time, looked up at him mom and said âdoes that mean she is married now?â
I watched my dad and my niece (3 at the time) arguing over a pair of pants and whether or not they were also a dress. My neiceâs argument was that they were, in fact, also a dress because they were blue.
I asked the kids in my daycare class what they thought I should be for Halloween and this little boy goes, âooh I know! A pickle! Youâd be such a good pickleâ
On the first day of class with my favorite student of all time, I said, âAre you okay? You look like you have a question.â And she looked me right in the eyes and said, tremulously,
âCan a piranha eat a stapler?â
One time I was working with a kid and he looked up at me and asked âDo you have a boy?â I had no idea what he was talking about, but I told him that I did not have any boys. He looked shocked and then deeply concerned and said âWell, you better hurry up and shave your arms so you can get married; August is next month!â
I was sitting on the floor with my 3yo niece and we were playing with her younger brotherâs alphabet blocks and the O had an octopus on it. Â So I picked it up and asked her what it was.
âOctopus,â she said, all curls and smiles.
âAnd what kind of animal is an octopus?â I asked.  I was looking for âfishâ or âsea creatureâ but I would have accepted almost anythingââweird,â âgross,â even âslimy.â  âUnderwaterâ or âit lives in the oceanâ would have also been acceptable.Â
She looks me right in the eye and says, happy as a clam, âItâs a cephalopod.â
I havenât been the same since.
Court Decision: I hereby find you guilty of clickbait, and sentence you to death by electric chair⌠what happens next will shock you
baby animals blog
The dolphin brought her phone back
Dolphins are too good for this world đđ

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this page is so pure n lovely
Patronize these kids at your own risk.