*limp wrist*

every bioware animation
  • back of the head scratch
  • a character shaking their head in disbelief or disgust with hand on their forehead, looking down
  • that kiss animation used since origins and in every mass effect game where they very slowly go in, hesitate, bop their heads around, and really go in for the kiss 
  • when a character, usually female, talks and puts their two hands in front of them like a robot and shakes them to illustrate their point
  • a character leans back on one leg with their arms loose
  • the exit-stage-right an NPC does after a conversation ends
  • angry limp wrist pointing
  • neck/collar bone scratch 
  • a slow crossing of the arms in times of suspicion
  • that punch animation 
  • drinking alcohol and violently shaking head
  • a character gives a half smile with an eyebrow raised
  • pointing behind with thumb, body turns very slightly

Junkrat: *Has the squeakiest camp-est goddamn voice imaginable, is shaped like a freakin’ spaghetti noodle, likes fancy drinks, use the phrase “sparkling conversation”, listens to Katy Perry, does a limp-wristed little foot-tapsy dance at the end of his laugh emote, hangs out with a guy ten inches taller and four hundred pounds heavier in a leather bdsm animal mask.*

Some nerd: He can’t be a twink ‘cause he’s tall and likes to make things blow up!

the person who wrote the “homonormativity is heteronormativity with limp wrists” thing is a 30-something with a degree in queer theory, and like i’m not against queer theory inherently, there’s definitely some good in it, but it’s worrying that you can clearly successfully study it without at any point taking steps to address your own biases against gay people. in fact many people, including this person, seem to think the primary lesson of queer theory is “it turns out gay people are actually bad.” as if this is a shocking, countercultural conclusion you can only reach after intensive research of power structures, and not, you know, literally one of the organizing principles of our society that we all learn from childhood. this way of thinking misses so much, and lets the massive oppressive system of homophobia off the hook to a huge degree, and it’s so disheartening to see.

cool flirt tip #56: act like a bioware protagonist

[walks over without thighs touching] hey can I talk to you for a sec? [leans on leg and with arms loose] I wondered if I could ask you something. [takes a shot and shakes head] are you free this weekend? [raise eyebrow freakishly and smirk] because if you are, then… Well. [scratch neck] maybe we can go for a drink? [points thumb behind and turns slightly] is that a yes? great! [points with a limp wrist] I guess I’ll see you around. [weaves head around their before kissing without lip contact] I should go [exits stage right]

i don’t know what to do with the information that harry snaps pics of louis all the time not only casually but posing like the model he is maybe coming down the stairs in a silk robe while running his fingers down the banister because he’s dramatic like that or where he’s draped across the couch with a hand across his belly or where he’s caught in a laugh with his head thrown back and crinkles by his eyes or where he’s snuggled up with clifford sleeping or where he’s just woken up and is making cereal with mussed up hair or where he’s wearing a suit that hugs his curves perfectly with his hip popped and wrist limp or where him and harry just had a couple’s fight but when harry gets out his camera louis can’t help but pull a goofy face or where he’s complimented louis and he’s blushing or significantly more nsfw ones in their bedroom

anonymous asked:

How are Larries homophobic if we support two gay men?

Well, for one, those “two gay men” aren’t gay. Louis self-identifies as straight and Harry is openly attracted to women, so.

Another is the homophobic stereotypes that is used to define and decide sexualities for them. Like, Louis has a limp wrist so he’s gay. Harry wears fingernail polish so he’s gay. Louis’s voice is pitched high so he’s gay. Harry wears girl jeans so he’s gay. That’s nasty.

You’re also homophobic by saying things like Larry is Louis Achilles heel, Larry is a forbidden romance, Harry is Louis’s guilty pleasure, etc. Like, gay men — actual gay men — fight every single day for most of their lives to be seen as normal, to be seen as ordinary in the world. You’re erasing their fight by saying stuff like that.

There’s also the bit where you sexualize Louis and Harry and fetishize gay men. That’s absolutely awful.

Need I go on?


Rlly Kinky Mikey Smut lmaooo

I think that says it all???

He looked fucking gorgeous. The long blonde portion of his hair was perfectly tousled and the moonlight crept through the window for the sole purpose of casting a glow to his bare chest. You found yourself perched atop him, a leg on either side as you ground into him slowly, the smooth fabric of his briefs causing little friction to the lace you wore.

His wrists were limp as you pinned them down to the pillow on both sides of his head, his mouth open only slightly with fluttering eyes which struggled to stay open. He was achingly hard beneath the tight black fabric and the new leather collar must have been growing increasingly uncomfortable.

Leaving open mouthed kisses up his chest, you moved your hips slowly, feeling him twitch beneath you.

“Tell me, baby- you’ll be good, won’t you?” You moaned softly, leaving small nibbles at his collarbone, drawing your tongue languidly over the skin. You could see him shiver beneath your touch, sucking in a shallow breath before nodding profusely.

“What a good boy.” You cooed, marking hot kisses along his pronounced jawline, leading up to his ear where you moaned softly, rolling your body to brush your chest against his, feeling his hips twitch once more as you let your mouth brush against the shell of his ear. Taking his earlobe between your teeth gently, you tugged a bit, eliciting a soft ‘fuck’ from your partner, who lay hot and bothered, trapped beneath you.

“Shit, y/n…” He cursed softly, drawing in a sharp breath.

With an exaggerated roll of your hips, you pulled away from his face, grip on his wrists tightening, the skin slightly sweaty beneath your palms.

“Baby… You know you shouldn’t be making those noises. Boys who curse and complain get teased and edged until they have to beg to cum- you know that.” Every word dripped with that of an obviously fake scolding as you whispered to him, faces drawing ever closer until your lips were nearly brushing together. Shared hot breath mingled in the minimal area between mouths before you smirked, moving to get away.

Climbing off of him, you gathered the handcuffs kept on the bedside table and secured them to his wrists, gathered right above his head.

“You’re so fucking good for me babe, you know that, right?” Kissing the corners of his mouth and avoiding his needy lips, you caressed his scruffy jawline with a hand. He was nearly whining as you slowly trailed a hand down to his tight briefs, rubbing ever-so gently on the fabric that held his straining erection.

Slinking down the bed, you straddled his legs, bending over to hover your face just above the place he wanted you most. Letting a hot breath out, you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, pressing firmly against his outline. Making a long stripe with your tongue, you could taste the precum through the fabric, growing more eager by the second.

Pushing your hands up along each of his thighs, you tucked the very tips of your fingers into the waistline of his briefs. Delicately curling your fingers, you pulled the waistband away from his body, glancing up to see a tortured, teased Mikey biting his lip with eyes screwed shut, nearly trembling.

Tugging the material away, you toted the covering down his legs, pulling them completely off before gazing at his exposed form. This was the first time in years he agreed to being dominated, and you sure as hell were going to make the most of it.

Returning to your previous position, you took his aching cock in hand, happy to see exactly how turned on he was.

“Shit, Mikey… Is this all because of me?” You purred, watching his eyes open, pupils wild and dilated in the dim light. He nodded profusely, his body tensing in anticipation for you to make another move. Trailing a single finger straight down from his chest, you could feel him shiver beneath you. Letting your finger travel further down, you encountered a bit of a wet spot, swiping up the precum with your finger and gingerly licking the substance off your finger as he watched. Completely sucking on the single digit, you hollowed your cheeks and allowed your innocent eyes to meet his.

“Mikey, baby, do you want me to suck that dripping, aching cock for you?” You moaned softly, punctuating the question as you licked your lips, watching him bite at his as he nodded yes. “So fucking desperate, Babe.” You murmured, setting in again between his legs.

Gripping his shaft with one hand, you ran your thumb over the slit lightly, gliding over the smooth surface. With painstaking slowness, you began to move your hand- the lightest, most delicate movements you’d ever made. Hearing Mikey groan, you decided to exercise your rights as Dom. With your free hand, you lay a firm slap to his side, scolding him.

“No noises, babe. You know the rules.”

Just as you found yourself poised to teasingly suck him off, you felt his fingers curled in your hair, his grip tight and painful. The cuffs on his wrists jingled slightly as he tugged, pulling you by your hair up to face level.

“Fuck the rules.” His teeth were gritted and even with his restricted grasp he was easily able to flip the pair of you so he was on top. “Now you’re gonna un-cuff me or pay the fucking price, baby girl.” His voice was a devastatingly seductive low growl, despite the threats he made.

Blindly reaching to the bedside table, you scrambled to grasp the key, fitting it to the lock as Mikey ditched the cuffs and threw them. They made a loud clatter as they hit the wall, and you watched as they hit the floor, oblivious to your partner’s actions until the collar you’d bought for him was snug around your neck.

“God, you’re such a pretty little bitch.” He groaned, pressing down into you with his body, his mouth attached to you at the neck. Whining softly, you could feel the bruises blooming along your jaw. “Baby girl, you know good girls don’t talk… And when they do, they get punished.” He smirked, peeling back from your body, eyes flicking to your lips only for an instant.

Within moments he had moved down your body, pulling away your panties, nearly soaked with anticipation. Wasting no time, you were grabbed around the waist and flipped over, adjusted until you were on your knees. Mikey’s fingers were warm on your slick skin as he gripped you tight around the waist with one arm.

His other hand was used to grip his cock tight, guiding it to your entrance, but not before teasing your sensitive clit, your legs nearly shaking at the contact. At this point you found your lip to be intensely sore, your teeth pressed tight against the skin to hold back moans.

In another instant, Mikey was buried deep inside you, his size nearly too much. Trembling softly, you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, arms giving away as you left your knees to prop you up enough.

“Shit, Baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He grunted, another thrust reaching deep inside of you as you keened into the pillow.

His hand came down on the side of your ass, forcing you to nearly scream. Once again, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly in place as he worked, sharp thrusts reaching deep within you, every time brushing against your g-spot, nearly driving you wild.

Soon enough he started panting, moaning your name as you felt your face burn, the air leaving your lungs as you buried your face further into the pillows.

“Fuck, you’re such a freaking tease!” He grunted through gritted teeth, his hips suddenly nearly doubling in pace. “Baby Girl, you’re gonna be here all night long until you’re fucking raw…” His voice was dangerously low and you could feel the pressure within you reach a boiling point as you squealed into the pillow. “And Daddy’s gonna use any precious little hole he wants.”

The words were barely heard over the buzzing in your ears as you came, nearly screaming into the fabric beneath you as your fingers curled into the sheets. Clenching tight around Mikey’s cock, you could feel his thrusts grow slightly deeper, becoming a bit more erratic as he swore, dropping a soft 'fuck’ before finishing deep within you, riding out his orgasm slowly before pulling out and giving a sharp spank to your ass.

Pushing a hand to your side, you rolled over easily, desperately attempting to catch your breath. Laying hot and bothered in the sweat soaked sheets, you nearly hit another high just looking at Mikey when your eyes fluttered open.

His lips were parted softly and his eyes were heavy with lust, bits of blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. You could see the rise and fall of his trim chest in the moonlight, and could only imagine how good he felt.

Closing your eyes for a split second, you felt four fingers reach under your leather collar, cool against your burning, soaked skin. You found yourself pulled upwards by the collar, face dangerously close to Mikey’s as his hot breath hit your skin, lips only brushing against each other as he spoke.


Live and Let Live: How to Read Sherlock’s "Gay Jokes”

I want to take a moment to talk about something that has made a lot of fans uncomfortable with Sherlock.

Over and over on the show, John is shown insisting that he isn’t gay and/or isn’t in a romantic relationship with Sherlock.  And when this motif comes up, it tends to feel like a gag or a joke.  But what exactly are these repeated protestations really telling us?  

When we refer to these bits as “gay jokes”, it sounds like we mean “humor at the expense of gay people”.  This kind of humor has been accepted and unremarked upon on TV shows for decades – a character walks in with a limp wrist and a lisp, and the audience (or more likely, the laugh track) laughs, because gay people are (supposedly) inherently weird and funny.  

In my reading, that’s not what’s going on with Sherlock. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How about Cody and Max with "superhero au where the hero and villain are roommates and friends but don't known about the other person's identity" prompt?

((I love this AU??? Oh my god))
“Unhand me, you-“
“Careful now,” said Apollo, grinning. He had his arch nemesis, who was cornered and limping, by the wrist. “We have kids watching us on the news. You can’t be swearing.”
“Then don’t touch me,” Metalhead hissed, though Apollo wasn’t sure if it was from his anger or his physical pain.
Apollo manifested handcuffs from the sunlight streaming through the city. His solar powers worked best during the day (obviously), so it was odd that Metalhead hadn’t attacked at night. It was probably more chaotic this way, Apollo thought.
Apollo’s dark hair swept just by his mask. He was surprised nobody had found out who he was. His appearance as a superhero and as Cody Jones were strikingly similar. Maybe the yellow, sparkly outfit blocked people’s vision.
Metalhead was oddly calm as he waited for Apollo to cuff him. All according to plan, thought Metalhead. Though he wore a hood, his face was oddly exposed, save for a dark mask that obscured the upper half of his face. Honestly, though, it was odd that nobody had figured out that Maxwell Puckett was Metalhead, the esteemed supervillain. They looked too similar.
Right as Apollo got close enough, Max used his metal-controlling powers to levitate a fake earring off of his ear and straight at Apollo’s face.
Apollo instinctively jerked back to avoid the sharp end of the earring, and Metalhead dove to the side. He telepathically flung a sewer lid at Apollo, then disappeared down the hole.
Apollo lead a force down through the sewers to search for Metalhead, but there were too many branching pathways, and they had to declare an end to the search without finding the supervillain. Angry but determined, Apollo told the captain of the police that he would do a patrol around the city that night in case anything suspicious happened. The captain thanked him, and he sped off.
“Dude, are you ok? You look and smell horrible,” said Maxwell Puckett to his roommate, Cody Jones, who yawned.
“I was working late at the office last night. I haven’t had a chance to shower,” Cody said, shrugging.
Max didn’t think anything of his friend’s excuse. He had a plan to hatch and a limp to hide.
Cody noticed Max’s limp, but figured some training accident had happened. Max was a stunt double, so it made sense. Besides, Max could take care of himself, and he had a supervillain to catch.
“Oh, by the way, Max,” Cody said. “Before I forget, we’re having a Halloween party at the office this Saturday. Do you want to come?”
“What? Oh, uh, sure?”
“Awesome. It’s at 8. Look sharp.”
As soon as they put on their costumes, they knew something was wrong.
“He looks like…” Cody thought, as he looked at Max in a store-bought Apollo costume.
“He looks like…” Max thought, as he looked at Cody wearing a store-bought Metalhead costume (why did they sell those anyway?).
The masks made them look eerily similar to…
“YOU!” they screamed at the same time.
“We are soooo stupid!” Max groaned.
“I can’t believe- after all this time-“ Cody sputtered.
“So what do we do now?” the two asked each other at the same time.

Oh yeah…hurry, call a doctor for Havoc. Please.”

It was just like him to insist that the doctor be summoned for Jean, and as Alphonse took off down the dark corridor in search of help, she wanted to chastise him for it. Wanted to tell him again to worry about himself, about the ugly, searing wounds on his side, about just how ashen his face was and how weak the limping pulse in his wrist really was. He fell silent as they waited, and she felt her stomach twisting itself into impossible knots. 

“ Colonel, please stay with me.”

No response. He was breathing, chest rising and falling, but that was not enough for her.

“ Colonel, sir, please. Can you hear me?

Still nothing. Panic licked at her, heart pounding. He was too still, too quiet. It was unnatural.

Roy Mustang, don’t you dare.”

Dark eyes slid open, taking a moment to focus on her, before offering a slow grin. She felt relief numb her, shuffling to gently cradle his head in her lap, a tiny chuckle coming from him.

“ You…haven’t called me Roy in a long time.”

“ Needs must.To hell with being embarrassed about the slip in formality now. He knew, and she knew that was all that really mattered, particularly right now. His eyes still slipped back into unfocused, and she knew this was a well fought front. He’s in danger. Big danger.

“ I like it.  Seeing this softer side to you, Lieutenant.”

It drew a small huff from her, and he knew that as a sign of shared amusement with his teasing. She didn’t speak, tongue flicking over her lips anxiously, nimble fingers checking for a pulse against his wrist once more.

Riza. I’m alright.”

She did not reply nor did she meet his eyes, but simply hugged him closer against her at the sound of her name from his lips. Her breathing slipped to quiet sobs, face burying in his dark hair, and her fingers clung to him tightly.  He could not help but sigh, the only disappointment evident aimed at himself, voice quiet when he spoke.

“ Sorry…I’ve hurt you again, haven’t I Lieutenant? It’s okay. Stop worrying.” She scoffed at his words, pulling away and glancing briefly to the awful wound on his side once more, nausea threatening as she did, and tears stung at the corner of her eyes, tracks already on her cheeks, bitterly uncontrollable. 

“ That…that is perhaps the stupidest thing you have ever said, sir.”

anonymous asked:

What would make Heathers better if Veronica were a boy? Besides, you know, a gay romance i guess.

no offense but i almost didnt answer this ask because it comes across as insufferably whiny. But because i think im a good person, I’m going to. It’s your lucky day!

First of all, Heather mocks Veronica for “playing barbies with Betty Flynn”. This line takes on a whole new resonance if Veronica is a boy.

Secondly, the beginning of the movie is punctuated by the homophobic insults Ram and Kurt spew at JD. If Veronica is a boy, these lines actually mean something, besides being throwaway lines.

Finally, the irony of JD’s line at Ram and Kurt’s funeral: (“Yeah, but how’d his old man respond to a limp wrist with a pulse”) also means much more in that instance. I could go on, but I’m not in the mood.