foods that will poison cats:
- dairy products (adults turn lactose intolerant)
- fat trimmings, raw meat, eggs, fish
- grapes and raisins
- onions and garlic
- tuna (when not made for cats)
- xylitol (artificial sweetener)
if you have a cat please reblog this
Even if you don’t have a cat please reblog this for all your followers who may have their own precious little baby.
if this isn’t the most motivational tweet in the entire world idk what is
The fuck to do you mean for six year olds
All I can think of is the pee…it only takes one…
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Yesterday was Tuesday
But today’s Tuesday, too
there’s not enough bruce banner on my dash and i’m fixing that 1/∞
the great thing about the united states is the fact that theres no official language so if you go into any federal building like the dmv and demand to speak with someone in latin they have to oblige or everyone in the building will be sent to jail
Today’s mental health reminder: a relapse, a sudden series of attacks, a string of awful days, (or whatever your step back may be) does not decrease your value. Take your time, do some self care, reflect on the progress that you have made. You are strong; one step back is nothing when you look at the journey you have already made.
So apparently in my sister’s class, there was a trans girl that had been on the cheerleading squad for a while. When she came out, the other girls on the squad made the agreement that whatever boy made fun of her would never get a date. And if you think that’s not the most metal girl alliance ever, you can sit down.
Wow, 500 notes
Girls protecting girls.
GIRLS PROTECTING GIRLS
Add for German home improvement company shows dad doing something special for his goth daughter.
*cries all over rug*
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You both like slave!lock, and johniarty.
You: ((vampire!lock, TW violence, kidnapping) John Watson had walked the earth for seven hundred years. He had been one of the first europeans to view the majestic Rocky Mountains. He’d crossed the Andes and spent several years in Siberia. He’d lived in New Amsterdam and visited the killing fields of Little Bighorn. Africa had been avoided on a matter of principle; he preferred climates that allowed him to hide behind layers of clothing. Now though, he felt compelled to return to England. He’d picked up a little flat in London, and begun settling in. Now though, it seemed fate had different plans. He opened his eyes to a strange room. The last thing he remembered was opening the flat door and then a stinging pain in his neck. His whole body felt sluggish. Drugs then. Only drugs shouldn’t have done anything to him, any needle should have simply broken on his skin. Someone had known what they were doing then. Probably holy water, at the very least. He looked around, finding when he’d tried to move that his arms were tied behind his back and his ankles had been secured to the legs of his chair with silver chains. Someone not only knew what they were doing, they were prepared for a vampire.
Stranger: Jim Moriarty, for his part, of course was no vampire. It would be ironic if he was, wouldn’t it? No, he was a human, middle age, and running the probably biggest and most powerful empire of criminal consulting in whole England. However, even someone like Moriarty would get bored at some time, or would yearn for more power, more /adventure/. And that was the point at which the brunet had fortunately found out about vampirism and their ‘victims’, about certain vampires in England, particularly in London, and eventually the man decided to get himself a new pet. Capturing one with the knowledge of a vampire’s weaknesses had been disappointingly easy, and eventually securing him as well. However, right now, the irishman finally noticed his new toy waking up — due to CCTV all over the room — and practically bounced the stairs down into the basement, opening the door, and slipping in with quite a huge grin on his lips. “Ah, Mr. Watson, finally awoken, eh? You’ve slept quite some time. Hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable, chains and beds unfortunately don’t work well together…”
You: John, who had been turning his head around practically on a swivel, fixated on the door as he head the locks clicking. The man who stepped through the door, well, he certainly wasn’t what John had been expecting. He didn’t look like someone who could kidnap a vampire, let alone hold him here. But he had done that, so John narrowed his eyes and took a long slow breath through his nose. Gunpowder, whiskey, the unmistakable smell of humanity. Huh. He rolled his shoulders, watching the man without saying anything, feeling his bones crack as he stretched. The chains certainly were uncomfortable, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, he gave his captor his best dead eye stare, blue pupils on the dark eyes, as if he could bore a hole through them just with his own willpower.
Stranger: It was all too obvious how very irritated the other seemed, yet even a little curious… or defensive? Well, to be honest, Jim had never been the best at deducing anything other than purely physical facts. Some even said he was a psychopath, thus perhaps having a little trouble at correctly deducing emotions. However, the mere silence of the other was indeed nagging just a little at Jim’s wonderful mood. He pursed his lips, hands digging into the pockets of his trousers. “Not the talkative type, huh? Shame. Such a shame. Well, I hoped for some sort of a conversation. After all, you must have so much experience in life, yes? Seven-hundred years… Indeed a very impressive number…”
You: It’s very hard keep his eyes on their death stare when the words out of the man’s mouth shock him this much. John’s head does a little micro jerk. Then he’s back to ignoring the man. Or at least trying to. The words, the simple statement of his age, it’s a difficult thing to avoid thinking about. /How does he know?/ John’s sire had died shortly after creating him. Other than that one, long deceased man, there was no one beyond John to know how old he truly was. Even Harry, his blood sister, created by the same sire, only knew him to be older than her. John had never explained that he was merely ten years older than her, in terms of his vampire life, preferring the mystery it gave him. Certainly no human in London knew his true age. John finally gave up on the puzzle, feeling his shoulders sag in defeat. His mouth got away from him, and he ask, “how do you know that?”
Stranger: The eventual quite visible defeat of the other was more than delicate to the criminal, and once the expected question was being said, Jim’s smirk went even wider. “Ah, you know, Johnny-boy,” he started, the mere tone of his voice patronising as hell, “I’m certainly the most powerful man in London. I do have my contacts and my methods. Ah, to be honest, it was a lucky strike…” However, the success was all too visible, and the brunet enjoyed it greatly. Eventually, he started to pace the room, pretty much beginning to circle the vampire just as a predator would do to its prey. “But I’m curious, Johnny-boy. How is it being so very old? No one being able to beat you? No one but a futile /human/?”
You: Now that he’s started talking, he has no real excuse to stop. He follows the man with his eyes, turning his head when the pacing turns into circling. “It can get tiring, I’ll admit. Still, life is a lot more interesting now there’s the internet.” John thought of the netflix list waiting on his laptop, all the movies he’d seen in theaters and on DVD of course, there wasn’t much else to do during the long nights in northern Quebec. Still, everything was better than when he’d spent a decade in Alaska, doing nothing but writing nonsense books during the day and running feral in the forest at night. The nineteenth century had been an especially dull time. “Question of my own. What do you want with me?”
Stranger: The provoking, like Jim had intended it to be, unfortunately hadn’t worked quite as well as he had expected it to, but there was still a lot of time to spend with his new plaything. Thus, still smirking as wide as a bouncy child, Jim simply listened to the blond’s words, before pursing his lips another time at the eventually given question. Well, what did he want with the creature… To be honest, there were plenty possibilities he could want the man for, and a few of them were quite in the name of science. Well, his own science, of course, for when he got extremely bored. However, smirk returning to his lips, the brunet continued circling the other. “Ah, well… You know, vampires are so very fascinating creatures. Immortal, attractive, and those fangs. Did you ever look at yourself in the mirror? Those fangs are pretty, really. However, everyone needs a pet every now and then, for when they get bored. I want all the dirty little secrets of yours. And I bet I can get a pretty collar for you, too~”
You: ”A pet?” He’s heard it correctly, he always does with these senses, but John repeats like a confused human would. “You want to take one of the oldest creatures on this planet, someone whose hunted your kind for centuries, and turn it into a pet? A little plaything?” John tilts his head, letting his head tilt in an over dramatic manner, flaring his nostrils as he smells the human once again. His actions are normally how he acts with humans, but then again… He’s never interacted with a human quite like this before. The man is something new, and John needs more time to figure him out. Wait, had he just thought about spending time to figure this man out? John internally shock his head at himself. Now was not the time to puzzle over the actions of one human in a suit. He calls up that acting again, trying to sound threatening. It’s harder than it should be, probably because he’s so thrown off by the man’s words and actions. “I’d call you mad, but I think that’s an insult to mad men every where.”
Stranger: The first comment indeed caused the brunet to chuckle, to laugh, even. It was precious to see the man being so very shocked by Jim’s words, all the while they were true as nothing else. He indeed intended to take a vampire as his pet, and who would fit better than one of the oldest and most powerful ones? Then, however, the second comment did indeed manage to suddenly tip Jim’s mood; he really didn’t like insults, and no matter how small this one was, it immediately caused Jim to practically snarl at the other like a feral animal. “You know, Johnny-boy,” he eventually started, even though his voice all of sudden sounded quite… pissed, “Every pet’s training has to start somewhere. And since you’ve just made a really hurting comment, we shall start yours /now/.” And as if having gotten a command of some sort, the heavy door — laced with silver, of course — opened again, a muscular, blond, clearly somewhat military man stepped in, holding a bucket of what seemed like water. Even though any somewhat smart mind would instantly put the pieces together and realise, that it was holy water. “You should really watch your mouth. Tiger, show him my displeased mood on this.” And with that, the blond took a little cup from inside the bucket and threw a cup-full of said water onto their ‘guest’. If the needle with holy water worked, this should, too.
You: John freezes when he hears the change in the man’s voice. /Too far/, the little voice in the back of his head says, /too damn far/. There’s no taking back the words though, and John won’t lower himself to apologizing to someone whose drugged, kidnapped and chained him up. Not yet, though the knowledge of what is in the bucket pushes him very close to that edge. He watches the blond man take the cup out of the bucket, smells the sweet-sour tang of holy water than only a vampire can detect, knows that if he was still living his pulse would be pounding a mile a minute. But he’s not living. He’s sitting completely still in the chair, abandoning even the false rise of his chest that is normally automatic for him, when the water hits his skin. Such a small amount. It shouldn’t hurt the way it does. John was a doctor though, was one for a quite a long time. Where the water hits him are dark red patches akin to cigar burns. Where it drips down his arms, face, legs, the curve of his collarbone, there rises angry welts. He screams. He bits his lip to try and stop his screaming but it rises up away, echoing back at him from the close walls of the cell.
Stranger has disconnected.
look at this sweet gender bent iron man design
#YES FUCKING YES #EXFUCKINGACTLY #TONY DIDN’T PUT A BUTTCRACK AND DETAILED COCKHEAD ON HIS SUIT #IRON MAIDEN WOULDN’T HAVE IMPRACTICAL FUCKING BOOBS OR A MOTHERFUCKING TUMMY GAP #TAKE YOUR OVERSEXUALISATION AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR TIGHT ANUS WRAPPED IN SANDPAPER #THIS IS FUCKING RIGHT #goddamn I get angry about this kind of shit
Let’s actually talk about Iron Rescue.
This is Pepper’s suit, the female Iron suit really.
Now, the armour works for either sex (canon so many times). Pepper’s donned Tony’s suit before, and done perfectly in it. But when he sets out to create a suit just for her, he designs the armour with a female body in mind.
Note the curves. It’s a lot easier to build the entire to her body type, rather than trying to fit the interior to protect her while leaving the outside the male form. It’s the same principal behind knights being fitted for a chest plate or having a seamstress measure your waist. Everything just fits better when it’s fitted to you.
But it’s still armour. It covers her entire body in that classic iron man metal. Plus, Rescue’s torso seems to have more individual plates than Iron Man’s. This fits with the type of superhero she is. Iron Rescue is just that. A rescue unit. The armour is focused on keeping Pepper safe and letting her into small spaces. Flexible, fitted, practical.
I’m tired of people saying that “Iron Maiden” needs just another copy of Tony’s suit. We have our Iron Maiden. Her name is Pepper Potts and her armour is hella awesome.
Don’t do it.
Please don’t do it.
Pretty pretty please don’t do it.
You are not alone.
Nothing is so broken it cannot be fixed.
The future is beautiful, and you really should be around to see it.