thebloodybitchdragon:

hrmphfft:

neilnevins:

I think now that we’re in 2017 we can stop villainizing the witch from Hänsel and Gretel. Some kids ate her house. She gets to eat them. It was a fair deal.

counterpoint: Hänsel and Gretel were led out into the woods to starve at the urging of their mother, so both parents don’t have to ration any more food for them during hard times. Hänsel and Gretel were underfed and desperate, and when life gives you a gingerbread house in that state, you eat the windowsill and the front stoop and every gumdrop you can find.

conclusion: if the witch prompted the children to explain themselves she’d realize it was ultimately parents’ neglect that led them to this point.

solution: eat the parents. everyone wins!

Not the solution I was expecting, but honestly, yeah, it makes sense.

merak-zoran:

fire-is-her-water:

My doggo, Ezri, who rarely barks and mostly borks.

When I got her, she’d been abused and would cower and pee at almost everything, and had been mistreated when she’d barked, so she never would. One day months after I had her she got excited on a walk and borked at a bird, and then immediately cower-peed. I had to re-teach her to bark by gathering her whole human pack and having everyone bark and howl and feed her treats and pet her till she got excited enough to join in, and then got more treats. Took a while but I was able to teach her to bork on command (and she’s gotta be excited or she just stares at me like “Sorry, the bork system needs charging”) and she’ll do it happily when she’s excited to go for a walk or upon seeing a friend, and at birds. I love her croaky borking, especially when she started off terrified of making a joyful noise.

rrozeselavy:

thebraveandmischievous:

rrozeselavy:

so the thing about my family is that we have two ancestors on my dad’s side who were buried in france, where I currently live. one died in the spanish civil war, and one died prior doing…we don’t know what. but he somehow managed to get buried in père lachaise. 

so anyhow, my gran sends me a message like “pls put flowers on ur uncle samuel’s grave because he’s gone over a century with none and it will make the ghost mad if he hasn’t already” because my family spends time in europe but never long enough to go all the way to père lachaise and give ya boy samuel jr. his death rites. so im like “ok gran I can do that” bc im a good grandson and you do not fuck with gran she doesn’t DESERVE THAT 

i figure out which plot he’s on and ask someone specifically where you can find uncle samuel jr. and they tell me where and so I arrive at the junction and. 

HE GONE. 

WHERE DID YOU GO UNCLE SAMUEL. 

*celine dion’s smash hit “my heart will go on” playing in the distance* 

in other words either someone stole my entire great great uncle samuel or he has risen again, ready to party in paris for all of eternity. 

You’re pretty chill about a corpse disappearing.

My guy, my dude, he’s been dead since 1851. He could be anywhere. He does what he wants.

catpda:

catpda:

how can ppl say cats dont have feelings like. 

when my cat got deadly sick she refused to eat a single thing and it had been days but when i started crying she ate just a little bit, and upon seeing how happy it made me, kept doing it whenever she could.

now whenever im sad or crying she finds wherever i am with a mouthful of food and eats the pieces one by one, every time looking up at me making sure i was watching her eat it all because she knew it made me happy. and it DOES make me happy

i love cats!!! 

im so glad my little Foofy has touched everyone’s hearts… she luvs you all