FirstBreathArts

Some assholes have been putting nails in cheese and treats in dog parks in Chicago and Massachusetts. Also adding antifreeze to water bowls.

The cat was given to the vets and for 2 days it’s insides were slowly dissolved by the acids and it bled from his nose, mouth and even eyes.  

On the second day, the vet not being able to help and refusing to let the cat suffer any longer put the cat down. The neighbor who did not deny his crimes didn’t even offer to pay the woman’s vet bill.

SO THE BIGGEST FUCKING SIGNAL BOOST TO THIS POST.

The first choice is fomepizole, but a lot of vets don’t keep it in stock.

Well, a couple years back, some carpenter bees found it. For those who are unfamiliar, they are a type of bumblebee, the most common in my area, who don’t have hives or a queen, who bore holes in wood to nest. They’re a menace to old wood houses (like ours) but usually no one can bring themselves to kill them. They’re the biggest fattest most docile bumblebees ever, seriously I’ve never been stung by a bee EVER (I mean my mom worked for a beekeeper when I was very young, so she kinda taught me…. proper bee etiquette?), they’ll just fly right by you, and you’ll know it too because the buzz is so loud, and sometimes they’ll hover and stare for a bit, trying to gauge whether or not you’re a flower. They figure it out eventually and they’ll be on their way.

Well anyways, the carpenter bees found the wizard staff and have been making their homes in it. And at first my dad and I were upset, but then I was like “Wait a minute, if you think about it, that’s like… top tier nature wizard shit! That’s some serious Radagast shit right there!”

So now we have this wizard staff, home of the biggest fattest bees you’ve ever seen, and I’ve got some inspiration for a dnd character.

EDIT: Look no one is seeing my reblog, and that’s the best part, so here’s the picture I took of a bee living in said wizard staff.

My name is Marieke, I’m a young woman of 21 and like so many others I was considered undiagnosed all my life. When I was 6, I was tested for the first time, the result was positive. AD(H)D. This was hidden from me until I was 16.

I received no care, no medication or different treatment. From as far as I can recall, I have always wondered, what is it that makes me feel so different from others? Not in a hierarchy or in a disdainful way. But in a way that I felt I didn’t function like others. I was unable to do things they could. Like studying, remembering stuff. Being tidy. I remember getting so frustrated that I asked my mom “Well, what is studying then? I don’t know how to do it. For me, the term studying means sitting at my desk and staring at the wall for 2 hours as my minds floats away.”

I was called lazy. Spoiled. Most of all lazy. I was always slow. A daydreamer. I never finished anything I started. Lazy. That I would never do anything if I didn’t feel like it. 

All my youth, up until about 13, my mom had to support me constantly. Sit next to me as I made my homework, open up my agenda, see what I have to do. Check up on me every half hour to see if I was working. It went as far as sitting right next to me and making me recite every word she told me. And still. I couldn’t.

But all those years, she knew, my father knew. And the help centre that diagnosed me had even advised them to use medication if you feel she needs it. And I needed it. 

Going from about 13 to 17 I constantly asked them: Do I have ADHD? Should I be treated or medicated? A firm NO was always the answer. One time I asked them so much, so annoyingly much, that my mom got out the report from when I was six. It said that I had ADHD. To me, this was a “victory”, a huge relief, that it wasn’t something else. To my mother, this was a “but you grew out of it”.

Getting older, about 18-19 I took fear of failure classes. The therapist told me she thought I had ADD. She gave me clear information on how to get diagnosed. I proposed this to my mom, she grabbed me by the shoulders. Gave me her most stern look and scared me. She said “Marieke. You have to promise me. Never! Ever!!!!!! Start taking pills!! EVER.”

Meanwhile I’m in higher education, struggling really hard. The program I had, was chosen by my parents, I wanted to do art. Ever since I was a child, I wanted to be in the art world. But in that aspect I never got my way. I consider(ed?) my parents the final decision makers, as they are the ones paying. So I always let them decide for me.

I cannot express how hard it was at times. As early as 16, I wished to rid myself of life. The only joy I found was in sleep. All day, I looked forward to sleeping. That way I didn’t have to think about my situation. I went as far as planning suicide after school, trying to minimise the impact on whoever found me by putting something over my head, so all they would see would be my body hanging from rope. I wouldn’t want them to see my swollen up face.

Higher education made me want to die too. I guess that could be an ADD thing too. I hated the program and still hate it. I’ve done it for three years now. What is it worth in the end? I don’t want to work in the area I study in. I’m sure I’d kill myself after 3 months if I had to.

But I am at a turning point now. 

A few months ago, a young man killed himself, my mother knew his mother. It’s as if finally she knows what’s at risk. I asked her about diagnosis again, and she agreed. “Anything to make you happy” she said. I am confused. And hurt in a way, that a young man must die for her to open her eyes. 

I did the different tests, and finally, last week, on 26 april, I got to hear the now-liberating words. “You have mild ADD.”

It hit me like a bomb. I felt like a liar, sitting on that chair. On one hand I thought, but I’ve always been told “it’s not that bad :)” “but you’re academically successful!” “but you’ve made it this far!!! surely-”… and on the other hand I thought “Finally. Now I know for sure. Now I am validated in how I’ve felt all my life.”

We went to a different doctor that same day, I got a prescription for meds. My parents were still holding on to their traditional “Those are drugs!!! Big pharma!!!! Alcohol!!!” as my doctor explained to us that I should have been medicated much earlier on in my life. That he almost couldn’t believe how I got this far. He recognised my struggle. Said it must have been enormously difficult for me, having to cope with it, no help, no meds, nothing. It almost made me cry because for the first time, I felt like someone knew exactly how hard it was.

I’m sure he can imagine. He was nice to me, explained how my brain is different. What the meds can do for me. How it can make me function better, without having to do a triple effort.

He made sure to hand the papers to me, not my parents and we said goodbye. He wished me good luck. 

My parents softened after that. My mom even reminded me to take my meds this morning. It’s finally looking better. I can’t feel much of the meds yet. I have to build up the dosage. 

I am Romanadvoratrelundar, mortal heir to the House of Heartshaven, inheritor of the House of Dvora, and custodian of the House of Everston.

— Romana, Panacea

I was an only child. I didn’t have many friends.

— Romana, Neverland

When Romana visits the House of Heartshaven at the beginning of Panacea, she finds it completely deserted, laying in ruins and infested with pig-rats. Nothing could be more dissimilar to the House of Lungbarrow from Lungbarrow, which belongs to an active bloodline with many living members. Heartshaven isn’t some modern experiment with new biodata; it’s a fallen House, like Catherion or Ixion from The Book of the War.

And Romana acknowledges that Heartshaven is dead: there were no other children in the House; she’s not just a member, she’s the bloodline’s “mortal heir”. The last person with any claim to Heartshaven’s property and legacy.

[Eighth Man Bound] is never played by Time Lords of those ‘newblood’ Houses for whom a change of body is as trivial as a change of fashion, and who come straight from the loom with a secondary heart.

— Christmas on a Rational Planet

The Imperator crisis was the moment of catastrophe for the Houses. … From that point on Dvora was known as a Newblood House, the first House to have bred such an obvious mutation despite its reasonably long lineage.

— The Book of the War

When Christmas on a Rational Planet introduced the idea of a Newblood House, it specifically did so by contrasting Romana and the Doctor: the First Doctor had only one heart, per The Edge of Destruction and The Man in the Velvet Mask, whereas Romana I had two hearts and also seemed to casually regenerate in Destiny of the Daleks. (The novelisation of City of Death goes so far as to suggest that she regenerated “for the fun of it”.)

The Book of the War then introduced Dvora as the first and oldest Newblood House, being deemed as such after the Morbius crisis. Assuming that Romana is a member of Dvora, this means that Romana was from the generation right after Morbius’ rise to power, which does match the timeline: she’s about one generation younger than the Doctor, who himself was loomed around the same as Morbius.

The Faction Paradox series actually introduces us to one of Romana’s cousins, another child of Dvora from the generation after the Imperator: Larissa. Larissa graduated from the Academy and was recruited into the Order of the Weal when the “worldquake” and the “goblin infestation” were still recent events, which matches perfectly with the freshly-graduated Romana we see in The Ribos Operation. Their timelines are perfectly aligned, and by peeking into Larissa’s childhood, we can get a hint of Romana’s.

They had separated her from her playmates and marched her over the mountains. This was punishment, but not for her. There was madness in the family, a taint in the blood, so the children were scattered to the nine corners of the world for their own protection. She was still too young to understand the reasons, the scandal and disgrace her elders had left behind. She had been carried everywhere all her life, and hated walking. Her new and temporary home was a small house in the mountains, so tiny it was forgotten and flew no sovereign banner.

— Larissa’s childhood, Newtons Sleep

The bloodline of Ixion had already vanished in the Diaspora, leaving only a line of caretakers to manage the affairs of the House. … Following the death of Thessalia and the decline of the Order of the Weal, Ixion became an empty, desolate House.

— The Book of the War

We’ve since seen that “Time Tots” most definitely recieve nursery rhymes and such at young ages, and the Tenth Doctor has even mentioned things about “playing in a nursery.” 

Paul Cornell’s Goth Opera takes this further, showing that Time Tots really are treated as humans would treat toddlers… 

“And that is the story of how Rassilon slayed the Great Vampire, and let us all sleep safely in our beds at night.“ Romana closed the book with the Great Seal of Rassilon on the cover and smiled at the children that were sitting around her chair in a rapt circle. "Which is what all of you Time Toddlers should be doing now." 

Nurses led the little Gallifreyans away, oblivious to their protests. Some of them stopped to thank Romana or ask questions about Rassilon, and she replied to them all. 

…. as does Ian Potter’s (excellent) “Apocrypha Bidpedium, with several excerpts coming from a children’s book titled Tales of the Matrix– True Stories from TARDIS Logs, Retold for Time Tots by Loom Auntie Flavia. 

And y’know, yeah, all cute and sweet and silly, “Time Tots! Time Toddlers!” It’s cute! 

Until you remember Lungbarrow… 

“They are all born from the Family Loom as full-grown adults. They are like children at first and have to learn like children. Andred calls that time brain-buffing. He says the things they live with in the House are deliberately big, so that they feel as if they have been small.”

…. and Faction Paradox’s Of the City of the Saved… 

“A childe is not a child. Youth is relative, as is biology. It’s doubtful any true childe of the Houses has been a child, except in appearance.”

… meaning that whenever you read/hear a sweet little Time Tot nursery rhyme, it’s either being read to a) a full grown adult with a baby brain, or b) some sort of Damian-from-The-Omen-esque nightmare genius child. 

Battlefield - season 26 - 1989

This is the cartoon that got Jordanian writer, Nahed Hattar, killed today.

It illustrates an Arab Muslim man in paradise ordering god around like a servant while he lays in bed with two women demanding more wine.

The cartoon represents the twisted views of Islamic extremists who dream of the virgins & rivers of wine they believe are promised to them in paradise. In Nahed’s own words, “it mocks terrorists & their concept of god & heaven, it does not infringe god’s divinity in any way”, but outraged Muslims decided it was offensive & an insult to Islam.

He was ON TRIAL for making a goddamn COMIC. All because it “insulted Islam”.

Can anyone tell me what the punishment for apostasy is under sharia law? Anyone?

Big hint, it’s death.

Someone honor killed this guy.

NO