It's Always Six O'Clock Now

Hey! My name is Tea and I'm a Swedish 24-year old bookworm dual-wielding bachelor's degrees in criminology and english.

I love silver rings, shiny leggings, teapots, fairytales, long walks and weird discussions. I'm an internationally published alt/pinup model & stylist, and I'm the female half of Ashbury Heights since 2013... Which means that I sing and string pretentious words together in confusing ways. This blog is where I post random stuff and the occasional photo shoot. Especially the too-body-loving-for-facebook ones.

You can find me on FB at facebook.com/InsaniteaTime for modelling etc, and facebook.com/AshburyHeightsOfficial for my band.


I'm also an occasional burlesque performer and an INTJ.

My home is mostly comprised of toy dinosaurs, books and teapots. This blog might suffer the same fate.
Take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.
Elie Wiesel (via spiritd3sire)

(via fatbabeprincess)

ewok89:

“They say I have a sweet ass, nice tits, a real pretty dress. They say I’m their future wife, or I’d look good with their dick in my mouth. They try (and probably succeed at times) to take pictures down my shirt. They ask if they can get my number, they ask where I live, why I’m not smiling, why my boyfriend lets me walk around by myself. Then they ask why I’m such a bitch, if my pussy is made of ice. They say that they never do this, as though I’ve somehow driven them to inappropriate behavior and deserve it. They say they’re just having fun, trying to pay me a compliment. Pretty frequently they get mean, slipping into a loud tourettes-like chant of bitch-whore-cunt-slut.
Before you try to tell me that it’s because I take my clothes off for a living, let me tell you that this started way before I was 18. Let me tell you that every single woman I know has at least one truly terrifying story of street harassment and a whole bunch of other stories that are merely insulting or annoying. Let me remind you that in a room of pornography fans, who have actually seen me with a dick in my mouth and who can buy a replica of my vagina in a can or box, I am treated with far more respect than I am walking down the street.”
—Stoya

ewok89:

They say I have a sweet ass, nice tits, a real pretty dress. They say I’m their future wife, or I’d look good with their dick in my mouth. They try (and probably succeed at times) to take pictures down my shirt. They ask if they can get my number, they ask where I live, why I’m not smiling, why my boyfriend lets me walk around by myself. Then they ask why I’m such a bitch, if my pussy is made of ice. They say that they never do this, as though I’ve somehow driven them to inappropriate behavior and deserve it. They say they’re just having fun, trying to pay me a compliment. Pretty frequently they get mean, slipping into a loud tourettes-like chant of bitch-whore-cunt-slut.

Before you try to tell me that it’s because I take my clothes off for a living, let me tell you that this started way before I was 18. Let me tell you that every single woman I know has at least one truly terrifying story of street harassment and a whole bunch of other stories that are merely insulting or annoying. Let me remind you that in a room of pornography fans, who have actually seen me with a dick in my mouth and who can buy a replica of my vagina in a can or box, I am treated with far more respect than I am walking down the street.

—Stoya

(via housewifeswag)

theroguefeminist:

elizabitchtaylor:

  • do not comment on what I’m eating
  • do not comment on how much i’m eating
  • do not comment on how little i’m eating
  • do not comment on how healthy it is
  • do not comment on how unhealthy it is
  • do 
  • not
  • comment
  • on
  • what
  • i’m
  • eating
  • do not comment on how fast i’m eating
  • do not comment on how “sloppy” i am eating
  • do not comment on anything related to how i consume my food

(via awkward0w1)

I already saw that on Tumblr.
literally everything (via beccaliving)

(via paulinaemelie)

artschoolglasses:

Favourite Fashion: Alexander McQueen, Fall 2008 RTW

(via paulinaemelie)

slasherbarbie:

cheredyles:

Look at this!!! LOOK AT THIS! Spread this shit like wildfire! Safe Trek!

This is being installed onto my phone as I type this… I don’t think anyone understands how much better this app’s existence makes me feel already. Kinda getting emotional about it.

As women, when we’re children we’re taught to enter the world with big hearts. Blooming hearts. Hearts bigger than our damn fists. We are taught to forgive - constantly - as opposed to what young boys are taught: Revenge, to get ‘even.’ Our empathy is constantly made appeals to, often demanded for. If we refuse to show kindness, we are reprimanded. We are not good women if we do not crush our bones to make more space for the world, if we do not spread our entire skin over rocks for others to tread on, if we do not kill ourselves in every meaning of the word in the process of making it cozy for everyone else. It is the heat generated by the burning of our bodies with which the world keeps warm. We are taught to sacrifice so much for so little. This is the general principle all over the world.

By the time we are young women, we are tired. Most of us are drained. Some of us enter a lock of silence because of that lethargy. Some of us lash out. When I think of that big, blooming heart we once had, it looks shriveled and worn out now. When I was teaching, I had a young student named Mariam. She was only 11 years old. Some boy pushed her around in class, called her names, broke her spirit for the day. We were sitting under a chestnut tree on a field trip and she asked me if a boy ever hurt me. I told her many did and I destroyed them one by one. I think that’s the first time she ever heard the word ‘destroyed.’ We rarely teach our girls to fight back for the right reasons.

Take up more space as a woman. Take up more time. Take your time. You are taught to hide, censor, move about without messing up decorum for a man’s comfort. Whether it’s said or not, you’re taught balance. Forget that. Displease. Disappoint. Destroy. Be loud, be righteous, be messy. Mess up and it’s fine – you are learning to unlearn. Do not see yourself like glass. Like you could get dirty and clean. You are flesh. You are not constant. You change. Society teaches women to maintain balance and that robs us of our volatility. Our mercurial hearts. Calm and chaos. Love only when needed; preserve otherwise.

Do not be a moth near the light; be the light itself. Do not let a man’s ocean-big ego swallow you up. Know what you want. Ask yourself first. Decide your own pace. Decide your own path. Be cruel when needed. Be gentle only when needed. Collapse and then re-construct. When someone says you are being obscene, say yes I am. When they say you are being wrong, say yes I am. When they say you are being selfish, say yes I am. Why shouldn’t I be? How do you expect a woman to stand on her two feet if you keep striking her at the ankles.

There are multiple lessons we must teach our young girls so that they render themselves their own pillars instead of keeping male approval as the focal point of their lives. It is so important to state your feelings of inconvenience as a woman. We are instructed to tailor ourselves and our discomfort - constantly told that we are ‘whining’ and ‘nagging’ and ‘complaining too much.’ That kind of silence is horribly violent, that kind of insistence upon uniformly nodding in agreement to your own despair, and smiling emptily so no man is ever uncomfortable around us. Male-entitlement dictates a woman’s silence. If we could see the mimetic model of the erasure of a woman’s voice, it would be an incredibly bloody sight.

On a breezy July night, my mother and I were sleeping under the open sky. Before dozing off, I told her that I think there is a special place in heaven where all wounded women bury their broken hearts and their hearts grow into trees that only give fruit to the good and poison to the bad. She smiled and said Ameen. Then she closed her eyes.

A Woman of War by Mehreen Kasana (via pbnpineapples)

(via luciddreamerash)

This pretty much sums up all of my responses to every baby ever. Even more excited about this movie now! :’D

(via dance-to-the-pied-pipers-tune)

yiffmebabyonemoretime:

yiffmebabyonemoretime:

if i had a dime for everytime an adult man made me feel uncomfortable

image

(via universal-longing)

ashburyheightsofficial:

Ashbury Heights live 2014, at the Out of Line Weekender in Berlin. Photos by Marty Kasprzak and Lisa L Photography.

w-0nd3rland:

m0rethanyoubargainedf0r:

catdad:

If at first you don’t succeed, redefine success.

I reblogged this at like 4am and I’ve spent the whole day thinking about it and randomly laughing

I never thought I could relate to a rabbit so much in my life

(via official-kato-page)

lesboflow:

THIS. FUCKING READ IT, UNDERSTAND IT, THEN REREAD IT, THEN SHARE IT, THEN NEVER EVER FUCKING EVER USE SLUT AS AN INSULT AGAIN, OK? OK.

(via rhinotillexis)

luciddreamerash:

laughingasidie:

the waitomo caves of new zealand’s northern island, formed two million years ago from the surrounding limestone bedrock, are home to an endemic species of bioluminescent fungus gnat (arachnocampa luminosa, or glow worm fly) who in their larval stage produce silk threads from which to hang and, using a blue light emitted from a modified excretory organ in their tails, lure in prey who then become ensnared in sticky droplets of mucus.

photos from spellbound waitomo tours, forevergone, blue polaris, and martin rietze. (more cave photos) (more bioluminescence photos)

I wanna go there. Can we go? I wanna go. I need to go.

this place is amazing in person—if you ever have the chance GO