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Bitch, Children, and Fall: arianod: rainbowbarnacle: alexander-lamington: gallusrostromegalus: jhaernyl: botanyshitposts: spirit-of-science: thebloggerbloggerfun: teafortrouble: eteo: fall-for-nothing: trickster-eridan: buttpilgrim: scientificperfection: kittiesinthemorning: I just don’t understand how this happened. But here’s a picture of a lemon from my backyard WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK when life gives yoǘ̻̬͓͎̣̟̩̦͢ ͪ̂̀̆҉̳̘̝̺̀l͇̬̹̞̻̥͕̥̗̒̎ͩ̋ͥ͆e͙̭̭̠̣̠̊́ͩ̂̓̀ṃ̛̍̂͛̈̏o̠̪̪ͤ͗͘n̵͉̣ͭͧ̿ͧ͛̀s̷̠͑ͬͫͦ̅͡ ̸͐ͤ͘҉̦̺M̰̹͙͇ͮ̉ͫͅȦ̻̔̅̇̑ͭ͛͋͘K̠̻̫̤̇̀ͥE͂ͪ͏̱̤͚͕ ̞͔̜̬̑ͯ͑͢ͅŞ͔̦̩̳̣̖ͮ͊ͨA͈̓͂̈́̀̀̚͘C̡̠̟͉ͪ͆̔ͤ͂ͪR̬͙͕ͪ̀͠Ĩ̵̖͚̑̊̓́F͎͕̄Iͬͧ̀̂̑ͪ͟͏̴̪̤ͅC̢̰̝͓̗͛ͬ̔̍̓́́̚̚Ḙ̶̠̰̳̩̳̊ͭͮ̇̇̚̕S̻͖̣̰̒̈͟ it’s back Satan lemon every villain is lemons And finally, dear listeners, a reminder; several concerned citizens have brought to the city’s attention an irregularity surrounding this summer’s citrus harvest. City council would like to remind all enterprising fruit pickers to exercise reasonable caution when acquiring these fruits. Grasp the fruit firmly around its circumference, pull slowly but steadily to avoid damaging the tree, and under no circumstances heed its demands of you. Do not acknowledge or obey the depraved whisperings of the demon fruit. And now: The Weather. This kind of looks like a Buddha’s hand to me they’re a type of Citron, a citrus closely related to lemons. I wonder if whatever causes that twistedness in Buddha’s hands is present but dormant/recessive in other citruses? @botanyshitposts do you know about this? a lot of people having been messaging me about this, and honestly i had no idea that Buddha’s hands existed and it totally seems likely to me??? like honestly that seems like a really plausible explanation, especially because when we look at the demon fruit, the twisty ‘arms’ are going off in all different directions when the only place i can see a twisty arm happening on a lemon is on the top. like if the fruit is developing from the original growth point into a body then why are the offshoots developing the opposite way, from a body into a twisty thing? when in a Buddha’s hand, it totally makes sense because the twisty things are growing outward anyway.  im no pomologist but the similarities in the growth patterns really do reflect in The Demon Fruit.  @gallusrostromegalus WAIT I KNOW THIS ONE! The short version is that Citrus is a slutty, slutty genus of plants that can knock up pretty much any other member of the genus and uh… it’s mots recent relative as of 7 million years ago, becuase why not. Usually that makes for tasty children like tangerines and whatnot, but sometimes Weird Shit happens. All modern citrus are descended from Mandrin oranges, Pumelos and Etrogs, the latter being closest to lemons and which looks like this: It’s big and lumpy and mostly pith but also tasty as hell so Ye Ancient Malay Archipeligo Orchard Guy gets to breeding these for more tasty innards, presumable inventing lemonade in the process.  YAMAOG also finds out that it’s REALLY easy to seriously mess with the overall appearence of the fruit of these very inbred etrogs, and starts breeding all kinds of nonsense, like Bhudda’s palms, Modern Lemons and Grapefruit. YAMAOG also noticed that in addition to the occasional ugly inbred mule child, you can also get really strange looking fruit if the tree gets sick, is malnourished, if any part of the flower is damaged, or if the weather just sucks that year.  In addition to being a Major Slut, Citrus is also a Fussy Bitch. Looking at the Demon Fruit, my best guesses are If you’ve had weird-shaped fruits off that tree before, you might have a very strange hybrid tree like the dachsund-pitbull one of my neighbors owns. If it’s only the one fruit, and your tree is producing otherwise normal lemons, that particular flower or branch took some kind of damage or had a viral infection, which fucked up all the hormones and hence your lemon has gone all Ending-Of-Akira on you. GOOD NEWS FOR BOTH SCENARIOS: unless the fruit looks like it’s actually rotting, it’s safe to eat!  weird fruit shapes in lemons pretty much never makes them dangerous, just maybe a bit more tart than usual. Enjoy a nice glass of demonfruit juice! @motorizedduck relevant
Bitch, Children, and Fall: arianod:

rainbowbarnacle:

alexander-lamington:

gallusrostromegalus:

jhaernyl:

botanyshitposts:


spirit-of-science:

thebloggerbloggerfun:

teafortrouble:

eteo:

fall-for-nothing:

trickster-eridan:

buttpilgrim:

scientificperfection:

kittiesinthemorning:

I just don’t understand how this happened. But here’s a picture of a lemon from my backyard

WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK

when life gives yoǘ̻̬͓͎̣̟̩̦͢ ͪ̂̀̆҉̳̘̝̺̀l͇̬̹̞̻̥͕̥̗̒̎ͩ̋ͥ͆e͙̭̭̠̣̠̊́ͩ̂̓̀ṃ̛̍̂͛̈̏o̠̪̪ͤ͗͘n̵͉̣ͭͧ̿ͧ͛̀s̷̠͑ͬͫͦ̅͡ ̸͐ͤ͘҉̦̺M̰̹͙͇ͮ̉ͫͅȦ̻̔̅̇̑ͭ͛͋͘K̠̻̫̤̇̀ͥE͂ͪ͏̱̤͚͕ ̞͔̜̬̑ͯ͑͢ͅŞ͔̦̩̳̣̖ͮ͊ͨA͈̓͂̈́̀̀̚͘C̡̠̟͉ͪ͆̔ͤ͂ͪR̬͙͕ͪ̀͠Ĩ̵̖͚̑̊̓́F͎͕̄Iͬͧ̀̂̑ͪ͟͏̴̪̤ͅC̢̰̝͓̗͛ͬ̔̍̓́́̚̚Ḙ̶̠̰̳̩̳̊ͭͮ̇̇̚̕S̻͖̣̰̒̈͟

it’s back

Satan lemon

every villain is lemons

And finally, dear listeners, a reminder; several concerned citizens have brought to the city’s attention an irregularity surrounding this summer’s citrus harvest. City council would like to remind all enterprising fruit pickers to exercise reasonable caution when acquiring these fruits. Grasp the fruit firmly around its circumference, pull slowly but steadily to avoid damaging the tree, and under no circumstances heed its demands of you. Do not acknowledge or obey the depraved whisperings of the demon fruit.

And now: The Weather.

This kind of looks like a Buddha’s hand to me
they’re a type of Citron, a citrus closely related to lemons. I wonder if whatever causes that twistedness in Buddha’s hands is present but dormant/recessive in other citruses?

@botanyshitposts do you know about this?

a lot of people having been messaging me about this, and honestly i had no idea that Buddha’s hands existed and it totally seems likely to me??? like honestly that seems like a really plausible explanation, especially because when we look at the demon fruit, the twisty ‘arms’ are going off in all different directions when the only place i can see a twisty arm happening on a lemon is on the top. like if the fruit is developing from the original growth point into a body then why are the offshoots developing the opposite way, from a body into a twisty thing? when in a Buddha’s hand, it totally makes sense because the twisty things are growing outward anyway. 
im no pomologist but the similarities in the growth patterns really do reflect in The Demon Fruit. 


@gallusrostromegalus 

WAIT I KNOW THIS ONE!
The short version is that Citrus is a slutty, slutty genus of plants that can knock up pretty much any other member of the genus and uh… it’s mots recent relative as of 7 million years ago, becuase why not. Usually that makes for tasty children like tangerines and whatnot, but sometimes Weird Shit happens.
All modern citrus are descended from Mandrin oranges, Pumelos and Etrogs, the latter being closest to lemons and which looks like this:
It’s big and lumpy and mostly pith but also tasty as hell so Ye Ancient Malay Archipeligo Orchard Guy gets to breeding these for more tasty innards, presumable inventing lemonade in the process.  YAMAOG also finds out that it’s REALLY easy to seriously mess with the overall appearence of the fruit of these very inbred etrogs, and starts breeding all kinds of nonsense, like Bhudda’s palms, Modern Lemons and Grapefruit.
YAMAOG also noticed that in addition to the occasional ugly inbred mule child, you can also get really strange looking fruit if the tree gets sick, is malnourished, if any part of the flower is damaged, or if the weather just sucks that year.  In addition to being a Major Slut, Citrus is also a Fussy Bitch.
Looking at the Demon Fruit, my best guesses are
If you’ve had weird-shaped fruits off that tree before, you might have a very strange hybrid tree like the dachsund-pitbull one of my neighbors owns.
If it’s only the one fruit, and your tree is producing otherwise normal lemons, that particular flower or branch took some kind of damage or had a viral infection, which fucked up all the hormones and hence your lemon has gone all Ending-Of-Akira on you.
GOOD NEWS FOR BOTH SCENARIOS: unless the fruit looks like it’s actually rotting, it’s safe to eat!  weird fruit shapes in lemons pretty much never makes them dangerous, just maybe a bit more tart than usual.
Enjoy a nice glass of demonfruit juice!



@motorizedduck

relevant

arianod: rainbowbarnacle: alexander-lamington: gallusrostromegalus: jhaernyl: botanyshitposts: spirit-of-science: thebloggerbloggerf...

Tumblr, Blog, and Http: swoletergeist: this is the most fucked up thing that’s ever happened to me
Tumblr, Blog, and Http: swoletergeist:
this is the most fucked up thing that’s ever happened to me

swoletergeist: this is the most fucked up thing that’s ever happened to me

Being Alone, Crying, and Dude: thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie: gucciballs: thejorie: peble: thejorie: My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed. do they smoke weed? Yes, actually. you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,) They don’t look like they smoke weed. Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad. Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle. I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING  Well that escalated quickly…… What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body* haha oh my god who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes. love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”. and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”. “the goo pile that is now your body” i’m dying over here, jesus please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun. *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.* this dude playin omg  Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
Being Alone, Crying, and Dude: thejorie:

xilast-zurvifferman:

thejorie:

jackbecq:

thejorie:

19leahjade96:

thejorie:

madamekagamine:

thejorie:

gccgrimm:

thejorie:

gucciballs:

thejorie:

peble:

thejorie:

My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed.

do they smoke weed?

Yes, actually.

you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? 

It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)

They don’t look like they smoke weed.

Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad.

Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.

I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING 

Well that escalated quickly……

What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*

haha oh my god

who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.

love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.

and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.

“the goo pile that is now your body”

i’m dying over here, jesus

please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.

*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*

this dude playin omg 

Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*

thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie:...