Aboot

meightaboot  asked:

So if PJ loses all his ink and gets trapped as a soul can you like.. put him in your pocket? Carry him around? Make a fancy alive necklace? I have weird ideas

Yep! You can do all of that AND MORE!!

You can use his soul as a Frisbee! Play some Frisbee Golf FRIENDOS!

You can also use it as some decorative item for your home! It even glows when angry! ^^

Bonus, it can be a third light if you tie it to the front of your car!

THE POSSIBILITIES ARE E N D L E S S!

i’m here for all the trans boys that are gay, that like boys and everyone thinks they’re just straight girls

i’m here for all the trans boys that can’t bind, or don’t want to

i’m here for all the trans boys that have larger than c cups

i’m here for all the trans boys that are poc and not thin and white

i’m here for all the trans boys that like girls but girls “can’t like them back b/c they’re straight”

i’m here for all the trans boys that are chubby 

i’m here for all the trans boys too scared to come out

i’m here for all the trans boys that are feminine and like makeup and dresses

i’m here for all the trans boys that have mental illness so they aren’t sure if they’re actually trans or if it’s just the illness

u all are valid ok, what you look like or sound like or think like doesn’t have anything to do with ur gender, what you have to say about it is what matters

anonymous asked:

Okay but i swear to you i will sacrifice my entire being for someone to write that pens!bitty fic or one shot. I need like air

(Alright, you monsters, I did this one, but I’m not great with RPF so this is probs it for Pens!Bitty <3  tw for concussion)

A sprained ankle here, a blown ACL there, and Bitty’s on the Penguins starting line flanking Sidney Crosby like it’s nothing. Like it’s no big deal he’s racking up assists left and right for the man who is going to displace two of Bad Bob’s career records this season. Like Eric didn’t have a debilitating fear of physical contact less than five years ago and is now playing for a team defending a championship title.

From behind, Sid looks like Jack. Or at least he has Jack’s ass, which is a hell of a thing to realize after being slammed into the boards. He’s disoriented enough to ask, “Jack?” when his captain skates up to check on him.

“Bittle, you okay?“

Eric blinks and the illusion is gone. No Jack, no Samwell, just the Pittsburgh Penguins beating the snot out of the New Jersey Devils. And the Devils beating the snot out of Eric.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Eric says, pulling himself to his feet and blinking through a blossoming headache. “You know you look a lot like Jack Zimmermann from behind?”

“Better not be a crack about my ass, Bittle,” Crosby elbows him lightly, herding him back to the bench.

Aboot,” Eric echoes, “I wouldn’t joke about your ass, Captain. Special kind of cheek meat.“ 

That didn’t come out right…and why are the lights so bright? Are they always this bright?

Crosby slides to a stop and Eric bumps right into him. “You sure you aren’t concussed?” Though he’s asking, Eric can clearly see Sid waving over a trainer. Eric takes a moment to reflect on his situation, what he’s just said to his teammate.

“No, but you really look like my boyfriend.”

“You just said I look like Zimmermann.”

“I know. Jack Zimmermann looks like my boyfriend.”

Crosby connects invisible dots in midair with his finger. “I look like Jack Zimmermann, who looks like your boyfriend, who looks like me.”

“Yes. No?”  That sounds right. Kinda.

“Bittle. Do I look like your boyfriend from behind?”

Eric nods, even though the motion makes his world tilt sideways.

“I look like your boyfriend, Jack Zimmermann, from behind.”

“Yes.” Wait. That’s a secret. “Shit, that’s a secret.”

“Fuck, yeah, you’re sitting this period out, buddy.”

Malkin slides up beside Crosby and gives Eric a once over. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Got his bell rung, thinks I’m his boyfriend.” Crosby slaps the rail twice with his glove and shoots Eric a wink. A couple of the boys whistle and holler while the trainer shines a light in Eric’s eyes. The part of Eric’s brain still functioning properly is probably really upset right now.

“I don’t think it’s a concussion, he’s just dazed.”

“I’m ready to go in, coach, just give me a chance.” Eric jokes, though no one laughs. “Ace Ventura? No?”

The arena turns sideways along with Eric’s stomach and he burps wetly. Sullivan makes a face and says something to the trainer and just like that Eric is being directed to the locker room for further examination.

Eric hopes this makes for a really funny story later.

gotham rogues as scottish tweets
  • <p> <b>Harley Quinn:</b> realised how shite bein a girl is, spent half my life on a diet, bleeding or crying whilst boys just helicopter their nobs n call us psychos<p/><b>Scarecrow:</b> just seen a bird shoutin at her bairn to put his pants on then pointed at me sayin 'look the mans gonna steal ur willy' Wtf no am no<p/><b>Catwoman:</b> burd in the pub kept tellin everycunt her cat had thumbs n then we ended up in her gaff and shit u not that wee hing could beat u at Fifa<p/><b>Riddler:</b> a say "ano" a lot for somecunt that knows absolutely fuck all aboot anythin<p/><b>Two Face:</b> "huving one of they days" aye right man am huvin one of they lives<p/><b>Penguin:</b> aw a ever hink aboot is scran, swear tae fuck al be sittin eatin ma dinner n am hinkin what am i gonnae have after it<p/><b>Poison Ivy:</b> "u canny hate someone forever" aye a can watch me<p/><b>Joker:</b> reminder that JK Rowling a grown woman multi millionaire blocked me for calling her made up character in a book about wizards a specky cunt<p/><b>Mad Hatter:</b> im at the age where people r askin "so what u doin with ur life" n im like mate am genuinely jus here for a laff x<p/><b>Mr Freeze:</b> ye ever wanty just wrap yerself up in tinfoil nice and cosy and then just fucking get right inty the microwave and blow yersel up ta fuck<p/></p>
OK LETS TALK ABOOT READER INSTERT FICS

ok so like u know those docs tagged like “Steve/reader” and then in the fic the author fucking names the reader and gives them a fucking body type like is it a reader insert or a fucking OC SPECIFY BITCH! Also I’m fucking sick of seeing one million “ships” example: on the fucking fic the ships will be “Steve/Reader, Natasha/Reader peter/reader tony/reader, Bruce/reader” when its a fucking fic about the romantic relationship between the reader and Thor. Like why would you fucking deceive me like that I gotta mow my fucking grass so I can get rid of the snakes! I can’t trust shit, not a summary, not the tags, not even the first chapter reader insert fics will go completely left in a fucking paragraph. I’m ALDO sic an tide of these “you cheeks turned pink from their usual pale pallor” bitch I am the same shade as muthafuckin kunta kente the only pink I have on me is my tongue and my tongue is too busy cursing out the fucking tags because they don’t clue me into what this shit ass story is about. God I HATE WHEN THE AUTHOR FUKCING DESCRIBES THE READER I HAVE SAID THIS BEFORE BITCH DO NOT DESCRIBE WHAT I LOOK LIKE YOU DO NOT KNOW ME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO FUCKING EMERGE THEMSELVES IN THIS WORLD TO ESCAPE MY REAL LIFE PROBLEMS AND COMPARTMENTALIZE YET HERE YOU ARE EMBEDDING PICTURES OF A LITTLE WHITE BABY ON THE AVENGERS PREFERENCE OF HOW I LOOKED AS A KID! I am done with reader insert all of it sucks it’s all people who haven’t taken a fucking basic class of English and think every word in a sentence that a character speaks when troubled should start with 5 fucking stutters to emphasize the problems that they are in. PLEASE DO BETTAH PEOPLE!🙏🏾🙏🏾🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️tag ya shit as it should be tagged for the sack of my sanity

Frank: Wait, whoa, what damage to the Argo did I cause?

Piper: Remember that night where you drank the twelver of Molson and got all “Super Canadian”?

[flashback]

Frank: [drunk and holding a hockey stick] Stanley Cup. Game six, eh? The Rangers are aboot to be sorry they ever played shinny with the Canucks.

Piper: Hey hey Frank, I’ll give you twenty bucks if you can shoot it through the front door.

Frank: Oh! You’re nuttier than a Tim Horton’s maple log! Tally Ho! [tries to shoot the puck through the door]

Leo: [grabs the puck] No. That’s it, Frank. Gimme the stick!

Frank: I’ll give you summer teeth… Some are here, some are there.

Leo: Frank, give me the stick!

Frank: Take off, [shoves Leo] hoser!

Leo: Alright, that’s it!

[Frank and Leo begin to fight]

Jason: Go America!

Annabeth: Alright, alright! Break it up! BREAK IT UP!

Percy: Anna-beth, no! You never break up a fight! NEVER!! [drunkenly punches a hole in the wall and storms out]