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Oregon’s Monster Mushroom is World’s Biggest Living Thing

The largest living organism ever found has been discovered in an ancient American forest.

The Armillaria ostoyae, popularly known as the honey mushroom, started from a single spore too small to see without a microscope. It has been spreading its black shoestring filaments, called rhizomorphs, through the forest for an estimated 2,400 years, killing trees as it grows. It now covers 2,200 acres (880 hectares) of the Malheur National Forest, in eastern Oregon.

The outline of the giant fungus stretches 3.5 miles (5.6 kilometres) across, and it extends an average of three feet (one metre) into the ground. It covers an area as big as 1,665 football fields.

via

nonononononono I am scared of mushrooms

Oregon, why did you create this

LEZ GO HERE

(Source: peterfromtexas)

diarrheaworldstarhiphop:

therainbowgorilla:

visambros:

tiredestprincess:

zamotdredhart:

tiredestprincess:

i just remembered people with penises can’t have multiple consecutive orgasms ohhjhhh my g OD HAHAHAHHKDFHAH

Well people with vaginas have periods so I think y’all deserve all the orgasms you want

that’s….really sweet… omfg

This post is also inclusive of transgender people this is the most positive post be seen all week

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The Sad Life of Lysa Tully

itsinthetrees:

Anonymous asked: OOOH. SHARE WITH ME YOUR LYSA FEELINGS. Right now, to me, she is a breastfeeding kook. Give me reasons to love her.

Spoilers up through ASOS

Lysa Tully was not as beautiful, not as smart, and not as stable as her older sister Catelyn, but she did perhaps have one skill Cat could not match: she loved more fiercely than anyone, loved with everything in her.

Lysa loved the little man they fostered at Riverrun; they were probably about the same age.  But Petyr fell in love with Cat (everyone fell in love with Cat) and put his life on the line to try to win her. He lost. Lysa hoped he might be content with her, and for a night he was.

Then they sent Petyr away. Lysa did not bleed that month, or the month after that, and finally she told her father and asked him to send for Petyr so she could marry him. He was noble-born, she said; it would not be so scandalous. Hoster made her choke down a powerful abortifacent, and she miscarried. Painfully.

Viewing his younger daughter as ruined (he had hoped to marry her off to someone important), Hoster asked the elderly Jon Arryn — desperate for an heir — if he’d be willing to marry a girl who wasn’t a virgin. He consented, and Lysa married a man her father’s age at the same ceremony where she watched Catelyn marry the Lord of Winterfell.

Jon took her back with him to King’s Landing, where he held her at arm’s length. He did turn up every night to try to get her pregnant, and he did, over the course of years, get her pregnant several times. But she miscarried again and again and again; her womb was irreparably damaged by the harsh potion her father had given her during her first pregnancy. When she finally did manage to bring a child to term, he was sickly and small and weak from the moment of birth.

In Westeros, a woman’s standing is directly related to her fitness as a wife and mother. Lysa already knew she had broken the compact of wife, and Jon certainly had no interest in being her husband, but this boy: she could be a great mother. She could be the best mother. So she kept him cloistered with her far away, terrified his weak constitution might lead to illness, and she raised him as best she knew how — raised him to be Warden of the East someday, to be a great Lord.

During the 14 long years of her marriage to Jon, Lysa was desperate for some other company, and she found it when Petyr began to rise in the King’s Landing social echelons. Eventually he was Master of Coin, and they were lovers once again. When little Sweetrobin was six years old, Jon — tired of Lysa, tired of her overbearing mothering — told her he was going to send their son away to foster. To Stannis, probably, but perhaps even to Lord Tywin. Lysa would not have it. She screamed and cried but he stood firm.

And then Petyr whispered something in Lysa’s ear. Kill Jon and we can be together. A family, like we were supposed to be. So Lysa did it, and fled to the Eyrie with her son. She did everything Petyr asked, and in the process set a war in motion. High above it all in the Eyrie, she abstained. Held her son close. Told Catelyn (and how dare Catelyn stare at her in judgment?) that she would not get involved. Waited for Petyr to come join them. Eventually he did. Petyr came to her a few times, whispering promises each time.

Then Catelyn was murdered, and Lysa was beside herself. (This is canonical; she is very upset when she discusses it with Sansa.) But she found herself overjoyed again when Petyr finally asked to marry her. She accepted, of course; but with him came Sansa. Sansa, who was Cat’s daughter, who looked exactly like Cat, Cat whom Petyr had always loved. And Petyr insisted she was his daughter, that that would be the ruse, and Lysa could not help but look at ‘Alayne’ and think that is the child Petyr and I could have had, if my father had not torn it from me. But instead it was his child with Cat, a Cat reborn and come between them, and Lysa was. Very unhappy.

But she managed. Prayed that Petyr might give her a child of their own, something to cement their bond beyond promises.

Then she saw him kissing Alayne in the courtyard.

(Source: thetopofthecity)

If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them.

anonymous reader on The Dish

One of the more helpful and insightful things I’ve seen about depression/suicide in the last couple of days.

(via mysweetetc)

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