#(true story)

[perfectlymysticallover]

This reminds me of a woman i saw on the train the other night, i was coming home from a birthday dinner and there wasn’t any room to sit so i stood holding onto the hand rails, she was sitting facing me directly while listening to music in her headphones. She wore a white Ralph Lauren button up, her hair up in a messy bun, she had a backpack with alternative band pins and she was listening to Within Temptation…they happen to be one of my favourite bands. I watch as she listens and she’s looking at her phone while slightly head banging and closing her eyes on and off, we make eye contact a few times and i smile thinking to myself how beautiful and soulful her brown eyes are…she smiles back and we both look away. A few stops later there’s a free spot finally to sit down and it’s right next to the same woman…i had 6 more stops before getting off and was tired so i sat down. she was still listening to Within Temptation and in the reflection of the train we would continue to make eye contact and shyly look away, she slightly kept brushing her hand against mine that was resting on my left thigh and each time i’d lean a little closer to her. Her bag was almost on top of my leg at this point and i decided to be bold and move a little closer, she also did the same and then she was looking in her bag, it almost felt like an excuse at this point to be inches away from my face she looked up at me and i back at her, there was a certain energy exchange between us that almost felt electric. Neither one of us moved or said anything and it felt so intense…then it was her stop and she got off the train, we both held each others gaze until she got off the train, i can only hope to bump into her again.

BAILEY NOBLE

PHOTOGRAPHY ||  MAISON DU CROW

[homebody-paaky]

[vaginawoolf666]

Ummm that’s literally my cat

softest belly, sharpest teeth

[defilerwyrm]

There’s this guy in town who owns this little house, and a while back he rescued a street dog that was going to get put down. Turned out she was pregnant.

Problem is, he has mental health & drug issues and couldn’t afford to get them all spayed & neutered, so now there are 6 grown bitches with 15 puppies total, and they’ve dug under his fence in multiple places but he can’t afford to fix it so they go roaming all around town. (When I say can’t afford it, I mean his house is currently running on a generator because he can’t afford his electric bill.) He’s also a day laborer so he cannot take multiple full days off work to take them to the vet an hour away. He’s in a really rough spot.

He’s not a bad person. He’s just overwhelmed.

And this little conservative town with 6 churches for 300 people, have they tried to help their neighbor? Have they adopted the puppies he’s been trying to give away? Have they offered resources?

NOPE! All they wanna do is talk shit about him and complain about the dogs but never lift a finger of their own. And they come to his house to yell at him and cuss him out about the dogs, which does not exactly engender in him a cooperative attitude, as you might imagine.

So after a while of this going on, my mom gets fed up with all the NIMBY bullshit and starts talking to the guy, because she’s done animal rescue for 20-odd years and has Connections. He’s resistant at first, but when he realizes she’s not being an asshole to him on account of his addiction or the dogs, he decides to let her help.

She gets to work organizing and networking. Finds a non-profit that will cover vaccinations, spay/neuter, and flea treatments for all the dogs. Talks the next-door neighbor into paying for materials to fix the fence, since this guy can do the work of it himself. Gets him in touch with another non-profit that will adopt out the adult dogs.

Less than 2 weeks after she decided to do something, all puppies have been to the vet, 10 puppies and 4 adult dogs have been adopted out, and the second non-profit is coming by next week to pick up the remaining 7 dogs to ship them out for adoption.

I’ve learned a lot of things from my mom—some good, some bad—but I think the most important positive message she lives as an example of is this: sometimes, when something needs done and no one else is willing, you gotta stand up and say “I’ll do it.”

[filiseverus]

The Barbie movie reminded me about how when I was little my parents were upset that I kept making my Barbie dolls kiss, so they bought me a Ken doll. The next day they found me having a funeral for poor Ken in the garden, he had died of tuberculosis. All the Barbies were in attendance and I buried him under our rose bush. The Barbies were too poor to afford a headstone (it was 1875) so I didn’t mark where the grave was and I never could find him again. He’s probably still there.

[pinkpuffballdude]

as far as I'm aware Joel Smallishbeans has always been a PG family friendly youtuber, but he talks like a sailor barely restraining himself from telling everyone to fuck themselves

[vaginawoolf666]

This is exactly what Dylan Thomas said

do not go gentle into that good night

[lexosaurus]

Me: Okay, it's time for bed. Tumblr: Wait don't go. You can hit people for free.

[iwillwringyourneck]

[and-corn]

if there's a condition called impulsive anthropomorphizing then I have it

[atavist]

Layan Albaz is one of thousands of Palestinian children who had lost limbs in Israeli air strikes since October 7—and one of the very few evacuated to the U.S. for medical care. 

The new Atavist story, COMING TO AMERICA, is now live, and also available in Arabic:

The average U.S. public school has about 550 students. Imagine eight or nine schools in an area roughly the size of Philadelphia where every kid is missing at least one limb. Imagine also that their amputations happened alongside a torrent of other tragedies: the loss of family members, friends, neighbors, schools, houses.

Now imagine that the only hope to reclaim some semblance of physical normalcy required those children to leave home. Gaza’s sole manufacturer of prosthetics and its affiliated rehabilitation center were destroyed in an air strike months ago; as a result, many families of children who have lost limbs are trying to evacuate them so they can receive medical care abroad. Social media is brimming with their desperate pleas, and only a few get what amounts to a lucky ticket for the mortally unlucky: Countries willing to take pediatric amputees from Gaza are doing so in relatively small numbers.

The kids who do find a way out board planes for distant places. In Layan’s case, that place was more than 6,000 miles away from everything and everyone she knew.

[warandpeas]

The True Story: Red Riding Hood

[lordofdestructionm]

OMG WHAT A GOOD FRIEND!

I'm so sad they got caught in the end XD

A true story from 1928 with a few artistic embellishments.

(And starring my disaster boys Jack and Al, of course)

[chipsy]

When the right person hugs you it's medicine.

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the scariest things that ever happened to me was when I was working at Red Robin. I was around eighteen and I worked as a host. I answered phones, opened doors, and seated people. The job wasn’t strenuous.

One night, the phone rang. It was fully dark outside. My shift was almost over and my mom was picking me up because I still didn’t have a car of my own. She was waiting in the parking lot when the store phone rang.

I picked up with a chirpy greeting and slammed into a horror movie when a gruff voice informed me that he could see me. He had a shotgun pointed into the building and I’d see brain matter sprayed across the walls if I didn’t do what he said. My brain froze in blind panic. I couldn’t believe this terrible thing was really happening to me.

The restaurant was all windows, visible on all sides by the parking lot except for the kitchen. He could be looking in from any direction, shotgun leveled on customers, or coworkers, or me. “Do you hear me?” he asked.

I stared in blank terror, not answering until he yelled, “Do you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you have a cellphone?”

“Yes,” I was so transfixed with fear it hadn’t occurred to me to lie.

“Give me the number.”

My mind suddenly whirred into panicky circles. I couldn’t give some crazy man my phone number, I needed to do something else but I couldn’t make up a number either because my head was pounding with adrenaline. My frightened head latched onto the only other number I had memorized.

I rattled off my mothers phone number.

“You’re going to hang up the phone, walk to the back dumpster with your cell phone in your left hand, and I’m going to call you. No one has to die tonight.”

I stood shaking with the phone pressed to my ear.

“Hang up.”

I hung up the phone. I was trembling, but I knew there was no windows in the kitchen. If I got to the kitchen I’d be safe, and that’s where he told me to go so I could make it there if I just held it together.

I made it to dry storage and met one of the assistant managers exiting. I broke down in sobs and started garbling in incoherent fear. He looked utterly flabbergasted by this, as I had the reputation of being the most level headed of the host staff.

He asked me to wait at the bar. He rushed off to try to finish what he was doing so he could deal with me. I was too scared to leave the kitchen hallway; I huddled as close the end of the bar as I could get without leaving the safety of the wall.

I was sobbing when the bartender looked over and saw me. She gasped in outrage and had me into the managers office in a blink, arms around me asking what was wrong, what was wrong.

I was finally in an enclosed room with a locking door. The gibbering in my head calmed to the point that I relayed the whole thing to the bartender. Near the end, the manager returned. He had my mother in tow.

She was furious, hearing the tail end of my death threat call. Apparently, while sitting in the parking lot she’d received the call I had been too scared to get.

The man had asked if she was me, and she was instantly combative. She didn’t tell him anything, just demanded to know, “Who’s This?” He hung up.

He’d called back once just saying my name and she’d angrily asserted, “No.” He hung up.

My mom was furious and confused and marched into the building. Part of her anger was that I’d given away her phone number. She’s a violently private person. My manager had been making sure the servers knew they didn’t have a host when my mom burst in on a mission of vengeance. He quickly escorted my rampaging mother to the back room and they were both in time to hear I’d received a death threat.

My mom rounded on my manager demanding to know why they hadn’t called the police and he pleaded that this was the first he was hearing about it. The police were called.

My mom and I waited in a booth while my nerves jangled with anxiety. No one had checked the cars outside for shooters and now I was sitting here exposed, surrounded by windows. She tried not to be mad about me giving her number given my emotional state, but she wasn’t thrilled with me.

A police office showed up an hour later. I answered her questions and my manager asked if I wanted anything. Everyone at the table looked astonished when I requested a root beer float. But by god, I wanted one.

The officer assured me that most events like this did not happen on site, that the caller wasn’t here. I didn’t believe the dowdy woman sitting across from me had even bothered to do a security sweep but I drank my float and tried to forget the darkness of the night staring in from all those windows. The clear line of sight on me from every side. The image of brain splattering against the glass divider. I drank more root beer.

I got a day off to calm down. On closing shifts after that my heart would pound when the phone rang and the bartenders all agreed to be on phone duty for me. A private investigator came in one day and I recited the whole event again. He’d been hired by the company as Red Robin’s nation wide had been targeted by the same caller.

The investigator told me he was working on it. That dozens of other businesses across the country had been called. He told me that if I’d given the caller my real number I would have been subjected to sexual assault over the phone.

I was starting to feel stupid. Everyone I told was so sure that he’d never even been present. That I’d never been in danger. The only thing I could console myself with was that many other girls had given him their number, but I hadn’t. I started forcing myself to pick the phone back up on closing shifts.

A few months later I was notified that he’d been arrested. The private investigator hired by a fast food restaurant had done what the police force hadn’t and tracked him down to a small town in the Midwest. My testimony was one of dozens used to convict him and for a while I received checks for 0.23 cents as reparations for the mental distress.