my very favourite supernatural theory is that the only reason that all these bad things happen to the winchesters is because of all the mirrors they smashed back in season one
my soul is a dog
in a hot car
on a summer day with the window
please for the love of god come back to gchat
you’re in a car with a beautifu —
fuck this richard siken shit
i just want to talk about mpreg clone watersports with you
YOUR GCHAT ICON SAYS YOU ARE THERE
IT’S MOTHERFUCKING GREEN
GREEN AS THE ISLES OF IREFUCKINGLAND
BUT YOU HAVEN’T YOU RESPONDED TO MY MESSAGES
I HATE THIS
WHY DO WE LIVE SO FAR APART
WHY IS EVERYTHING IN LIFE TE — oh there you are, you’re typing at me, you were getting food, how was my day, did I see the thing yet?
i am sorry
but why the fuck
aren’t you on
i know, i know,
it’s like 6:30 in the morning where you are
or you’re watching your brother get married
or you’re traveling to israel
or dealing with serious real life shit that legit breaks my heart
but goddammit, i saw/read/listened to that thing last night
and if we don’t talk about it i am going to explode like a roman candle
fabulous yellow spider across the stars
tho we totally talked about how much we both hate fucking jack kerouac
did you see that tumblr post about how allen ginsberg was a grade a disgusting creep? on the other hand, i am totally changing my opinion on daniel radcliffe’s hotness
a bisexual pop group called Both Directions
a pansexual pop group called All Directions
an asexual pop group called No Directions
a questioning pop group called Which Direction
a helpful pop group called That Direction
a lost pop group called Can I Have Directions
a married pop group called Dammit Why Won’t You Just Ask For Directions
Curly Fu and Peanut slash fic banned in China. Slash writers arrested. This is terrifying.
Let’s forget all the in-fighting and wank for a moment and appreciate that not all fans are creating in safe or accepting circumstances. Maybe we could try being a little more forgiving and generous towards our fellow fans, we don’t know what’s going on in their day.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
this guy is systematically undoing the world
The La Brea Tar Pits translates to “The The Tar Tar Pits.” Los Angeles is terrible at naming stuff.
We are not! We just need to label things in two languages cause there are a lot of Spanish speakers okay. Stop being so judgy, judgy mcjudgersons….
Okay, yes, we are terrible at naming stuff. It’s part of our charm. We are too busy enjoying our nice weather to bother with spending lots of time on names. Just label everything in Spanish and English and hit the beach.
An asexual and pansexual become room-mates and have wacky adventures
The show is called ‘All or Nothing’
Plot twist: the asexual is really super outgoing and is a huge flirt while the pansexual is extremely socially awkward and has trouble ordering coffee let alone getting a date.
my hand slipped
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE AGENTS OF The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division
A friend and I were out with our kids when another family’s two-year-old came up. She began hugging my friend’s 18-month-old, following her around and smiling at her. My friend’s little girl looked like she wasn’t so sure she liked this, and at that moment the other little girl’s mom came up and got down on her little girl’s level to talk to her.
“Honey, can you listen to me for a moment? I’m glad you’ve found a new friend, but you need to make sure to look at her face to see if she likes it when you hug her. And if she doesn’t like it, you need to give her space. Okay?”
Two years old, and already her mother was teaching her about consent.
My daughter Sally likes to color on herself with markers. I tell her it’s her body, so it’s her choice. Sometimes she writes her name, sometimes she draws flowers or patterns. The other day I heard her talking to her brother, a marker in her hand.
“Bobby, do you mind if I color on your leg?”
Bobby smiled and moved himself closer to his sister. She began drawing a pattern on his leg with a marker while he watched, fascinated. Later, she began coloring on the sole of his foot. After each stoke, he pulled his foot back, laughing. I looked over to see what was causing the commotion, and Sally turned to me.
“He doesn’t mind if I do this,” she explained, “he is only moving his foot because it tickles. He thinks its funny.” And she was right. Already Bobby had extended his foot to her again, smiling as he did so.
What I find really fascinating about these two anecdotes is that they both deal with the consent of children not yet old enough to communicate verbally. In both stories, the older child must read the consent of the younger child through nonverbal cues. And even then, consent is not this ambiguous thing that is difficult to understand.
Teaching consent is ongoing, but it starts when children are very young. It involves both teaching children to pay attention to and respect others’ consent (or lack thereof) and teaching children that they should expect their own bodies and their own space to be respected—even by their parents and other relatives.
And if children of two or four can be expected to read the nonverbal cues and expressions of children not yet old enough to talk in order to assess whether there is consent, what excuse do full grown adults have?