but dude it was worth it

is the dawn rockruff you get always female. i want it to be male and i dont know if its worth restarting over and over as the dude gives it to me to try and get male

anonymous asked:

Dude it's late and I'm tired you're making me as ruffled as a love bird during mating season

OH MY GOSH LMAO this is my life now!!!! my phone was on 4% battery and i’m still just writing nsfw even though i have work again in a couple hours!!!!! wtf!!!! i’m so irresponsible!!! but you know what, it’s all worth it when i get wonderful messages like this. thank you so much anon!!! i’ve really missed writing (: good to know i haven’t lost all literary abilities (yet)

Painted a hurt Fenris and Hawke sneaked in there to kiss him better - went from pure angst to 100% fluff, I do not regret.

Orphan Black Explained (with pictures):

A visual explanation of Orphan Black based off of the explanation from @thatgaycousin and I just picked the pictures..I know they aren’t exactly precise to the moment within the show but just bear with me:

A show about ^Tatiana Maslany’s world being thrown upside-down after witnessing

^Tatiana Maslany’s incident at the train station.

^Tatiana Maslany is soon found by

^Tatiana Maslany, who is killed

by a hidden ^Tatiana Maslany.

Another ^Tatiana Maslany contacts

^Tatiana Maslany and soon

^Tatiana Maslany meets up with ^Tatiana Maslany and ^Tatiana Maslany. Everything is kinda the same for awhile..

with ^Tatiana Maslany hunting

^Tatiana Maslany who is imitating

^Tatiana Maslany.

^Tatiana Maslany is quickly dragged into the bigger picture and meets the CEO…..

TATIANA MASLANY.

Understand??

“Irish Youtuber worth 2.5 million”
We can always talk about money. At least to me, @therealjacksepticeye is worth so much more. I’m not talking about money. Money can’t get you everything. That pure friendship, cute laughter and the way he cares about us are worth so goddamn much. It means the world to me. Any amount of money will never be enough to replace Seán. He’s a goddamn great dude. Attitude on point and always seeking for the positive side of things.

How The Inevitable Filler Episodes Are Gonna Go Down
  • <p> <b>Lars:</b> Oh thank god, you're here! Where were you? It's been months!<p/><b>Steven:</b> See, we were going to save you, but then there was this really kooky side plot where Peridot ran for mayor, and then Onion<p/><b>Lars:</b> Steven<p/><b>Steven:</b> wanted help running a lemonade stand, but he was using unethical business practices so we had to shut him down, and then<p/><b>Lars:</b> Steven<p/><b>Steven:</b> Pearl got upset about something, fusion mom and purple were also there. There was a lot of crying and a little singing and<p/><b>Lars:</b> Steven I Could Have Died<p/></p>

During his move to Washington, DC, Stiles made a number of realizations about life, the most prominent of which was that it was amazing what kind of hobbies a guy could pick up when his days weren’t packed full of running for his life from various supernatural horrors. Like trivia nights, for example. Stiles had a regular team and the entire bar groaned when they walked in because they knew they were about to get creamed.

Or the tabletop gaming club he joined, where everyone was just as competitive as he was, and punches had been thrown on more than one occasion.

Or like, Stiles jogged now.

Through the National Mall.

Like Captain America or some shit.

And with these hobbies came a sort of routine, and though most were on hold during the summer when his trivia team and gaming rivals were back home, the running stuck. It was calming and got his mind off things, gave him a chance to think about any papers he had to write, or de-stress about his FBI internship when it got a little hectic.

It was a good routine.

So every Saturday morning, Stiles got up a little earlier so he could get in his longer route, and left his dorm for his jog through the National Mall. On Saturdays, he took the path that went through the war memorials, down into West Potomac Park, and over to the Jefferson Memorial. It was his favorite place to take a breather because that early in the morning, there were rarely any tourists, and other joggers left him alone. It was nice and private, with a great view of the city across the water.

Stiles leaned back against the front steps and glanced around him casually, making sure there was no one too close before pulling out his little burner flip phone.

He had an old school drug dealer flip phone. His dad would be so proud.

There was only one number the phone ever called, so there was no need to save it under a name.

He waited for a few minutes, biding his time until the clock hit 7:15am, and then he called that number.

On the third ring, Derek picked up.

“Morning, sunshine!” Stiles greeted, already wide awake from his jog. Derek grunted back. He must’ve had a late night at the bar. “Any leads?”

Derek yawned loudly. “Still no werewolves with triskele tattoos, still wanted for murder.”

Keep reading

Shout out to my fellow petite trans brothers out here
  • To the trans guys who are so thin their binder will NEVER work to sculpt “pecs” for them.
  • To the trans guys who go to try on XS clothing sizes and still end up never having clothes that fit snugly enough.
  • To trans guys who have to custom order men’s jeans because they rarely carry a size small enough for them, or to trans guys who just wear “women’s” jeans since it’s easier.
  • To trans guys who can eat all the “right” foods and do all of the specific exercises and still just… don’t ever beef up in the right ways because it’s not what their body is willing to do. 
  • To trans guys who are so small that even other afab people laugh when comparing the size of their hands or their shoe size to yours.
  • To trans guys that have height dysphoria worse than anything else sometimes.
  • To trans guys who know they’ll still be small/short even after starting T, and just have to learn how to cope with it.
  • To trans guys with a metabolism too high to be anything other than skinny.
  • To trans guys who don’t want to have the image of a soft, skinny, “smol” trans boy but always end up lumped in that category anyways.
  • To trans guys who get called ‘adorable’ in anything short of a leather jacket with bloodied knuckles.
  • To trans guys who do fit a softer stereotypical image and don’t mind that! Who embrace flower crowns and pastel sweaters and feel like they’re trans the “wrong” way!
  • To trans guys who can wear all the passing-guidebook clothing, change their gait, and deepen their voices and still get misgendered.

You’re all awesome and even other trans guys sleep on y’all but you’re just as much of a man as the 6′0″ well muscled guys you always see people praising.
You’re going to find a way to feel comfortable with your presentation some day, I promise. 
Whether that means starting HRT, getting surgeries, learning to self love, or a mix of any of these! You’re going to be happy with yourself some day, even if it takes a little bit of work.
Hang in there.

2

The moment I got this ask is when I decided to draw some self-indulgent things with Macha bc listen:

You wanna kiss King Dice? The Devil? Do it. Just do it. Wanna make a self-insert??? OCs? DO IT. You wanna make friends with the cast??? WHAT’S STOPPING YOU???? LIVE YOUR DREAMS!!!

There’s no such thing as Cringey or weird, man. It’s all fictional. Just go ahead and indulge in yourself my dude, and anyone who says otherwise aren’t worth your time lmao. Bc in the end:

As time passes, the bonds between the IPRE increase and that probably increases the power of the engine. Right at the beginning, though, as they’re racing away from one of the early worlds, Davenport has the sinking realization that it’s not enough. The engine is not running on enough power to outrun the apocalypse again, and of course it isn’t, because it was designed for a leisurely two-month exploration and not a high-speed chase. They’re not going to make it. And he thinks his crew must realize that, too, because they’re all nervously glancing out of the windows as he narrowly evades another deadly blow. 

Damn it all, they’re his responsibility, they look to him for guidance and he’s going to get all of them killed because he couldn’t do the one thing he’s best at well enough. They’re good people and they don’t deserve this. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly it’s vital that they all know that they’re more to him than just strangers. 

“If we don’t make it out of this,” he calls over his shoulder, “I want you all to know that it was an honor to travel with you.” He can’t turn his attention away from where they’re going, but he can feel their stares on his back. And, because he’s the best at what he does, he can feel the ship shudder slightly under him, gaining the smallest surge of extra energy in the engine. 

The bonds engine, which runs on bonds. Fuck.

Davenport calls out again, this time with far less gravitas: “If any of you want to, I don’t know, hug it out or something now would be a great time.”

It takes a moment for them to catch on, but they’re his crew, so of course they do.

“I think you have beautiful eyes!” It’s Barry, suddenly the approximate complexion of a tomato, and he’s got his face in his hands seconds later so it’s not even clear who he was talking to but the outburst sets the rest of them off.

“Lucretia, you have lovely handwriting even though I can’t read a damn word!”

“Magnus, for the love of whatever gods are watching, you are very brave but please stop getting yourself killed?”

“Those cupcakes without the icing that you made are kickass, Taako!” (And, somewhere in the background an indignant shriek of “Muffins? Do you mean muffins, Magnus?”)

“You make the best coffee at three in the morning which is some kind of fucking lost art, and that’s the only reason you’re allowed to correct my notes even though I was absolutely right about that last equation you erased, wasn’t I?

That was an accident, Lup - Merle I think your approach to both horticulture and religion are… uniquely inspired.”

“Davenport, you are a very brave leader and I appreciate all of the difficult decisions you make.”

They’ve almost got it. They’re almost there, they might make it after all, they just need a little more power. It comes from a very unlikely source.

“That’s just our luck, right?” Taako is looking out of the window, and he sees what Davenport sees, that the force chasing them is still just a little too fast. “Finally get used to having these chucklefucks around and now we’re gonna get eaten. Finally find some people worth keeping and boom, apocalypse. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

Everyone is staring again. Taako’s ears twitch lower as he realizes what he’s just said, aloud, at a clearly audible volume and obviously unintentionally. Magnus sniffles a little, clearly moved, and mutters “Aw, dude.”

Lup sneaks up on Taako and hugs him from behind, holding him firmly in place as Magnus and then the others join in. Davenport is the only one who notices the moment when they outrun the Hunger one more time, just barely slipping through its grasp.

(Davenport considers organized bonding activities after that, but he watches his crew make a mess of breakfast together the next morning, and he realizes that isn’t necessary.)

clueless

Summary: Scary movies lead to protective cuddles leads to… you and Bucky?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,459

A/N: Here is my super late submission for my beloved Foster’s[ @lady-thor-foster ] Halloween challenge! Hope you all enjoy! | masterlist

Originally posted by xopsychogirlxo


Keep reading

Maybe, if I post every time this happens, abled people will stop thinking that this sort of thing is rare.

A while back I was sitting by the restaurant in Ikea and using my phone while I waited for Marvin to buy some things.

I was seated at one of four high-backed chairs arranged around a low coffee table. Across the table from me was a stranger, his young son sat in the chair to the right of me, and his daughter, who was about nine-years-old, sat on the floor at the coffee table. She was colouring and her brother was playing on a DS.

Their father stared at me while pretending he wasn’t. It’s pretty obvious when someone is watching you from eight feet away, though. I didn’t get angry vibes so I wasn’t concerned and just pointedly ignored him while catching Pidgey after Pidgey.

My phone had a semi-transparent, soft plastic case on it. I usually covered it with cute stickers. At that time, it had large words written in sharpie on the back that said, “It’s rude to stare”.

I was absorbed in my game when the stranger across from me laughed suddenly, loudly, and pointed me out to his daughter.

“Her phone says, ‘It’s rude to stare’,” he said.

He chuckled and looked at my face, expecting an explanation.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

I sighed.

“Oh, yeah. People stare at me a lot,” Just like you were, I thought. I waved my phone to show off the words. “So I wrote that on there. So, yeah.”

I went back to my game. Guy chuckled again.

“Really, people stare at you? Why?” He asked.

I looked up from my phone. I stared at him.

He stared back. I raised my eyebrows. He kept waiting for an answer.

I held up the butterfly-printed cane that had been leaning against my legs by way of explanation. “Sometimes I use a walker or wheelchair, too.”

“And people stare?” He pressed.

“Yep,” I said shortly.

“Wow. Well, you know, I think it’s probably because of their own personal fear.”

I seriously bristled at that. The tone was awful, really patronizing.

“Yeah. Seeing disabled people in public is a real shock. We remind people of their own mortality,” I said humourlessly, adding in some sarcastic laughter for good measure. I tried to signal my disinterest by lowering my head and leaning over my phone screen.

“Yeah-” he said, charging full speed ahead like he didn’t even need me for this conversation. He clearly had something to say all prepared.

"And you know, it’s funny. But I used to be scared of- people- people with disabilities,” he said, with a smile and lean-in, touching his fingertips together, making me want to punch his face.

I was in a bit of social shock. I just kept thinking, are you kidding me? This Ikea food court confession is happening right now, huh?

“Not physical disabilities, but mental disabilities.”

He was so smarmy, you guys. When he said that, I think my soul left my body. And I had no idea how to either respond or extricate myself reasonably. 

I hesitated, looked from this guy to his children, who were watching the exchange with awkward interest.

“Oh. Uh. Well, I’m autistic, so…” I let my words trail off. To this day I have no idea where that sentence would have gone.

“Oh. Oh! But I mean, you can’t tell,” he turned tomato red. “You’re so well-spoken and- I guess you could say that you have really overcome.”

As he was fumbling, I was giving him an exaggerated but sincerely felt grimace and an unimpressed "ehhh”.

At his pronouncement of my overcoming, I sat up straight and said, loudly and pissed enough that his children started looking worried, “Uh, yikes. No.”

Guy’s daughter looked like she would rather he did anything but continue talking, but that’s what he did. Like any allistic abled white dude worth his salt /s, he powered through, ignoring my obvious and projected displeasure.

“But, I mean. In school, it’s funny, because it ended up that most of my friends were handicapped. I guess I kind of protected them-” His voice took on an artificially soft, sticky quality. It was at this moment that I snapped.

“Okay. I’m going to cut you off there,” I said. I put my hand up. His tomato face spoiled.

“What? Why?” He seemed torn between expressing frustration and wanting to appear kind-hearted and open-minded in front of his children.

“Well. Uh. Ugh,“ I looked at his kids, wondering how harsh or how kind I should be. I hated that he put me in this spot. In that moment I hated him so much.

"Well, you’re saying a lot of stuff that non-disabled people think is nice to hear, but it’s not. It’s just- it’s just not.” I knew it was pointless to try to explain. My words were failing fast. He didn’t really care, anyway.

“I wouldn’t even be able to explain it to you,” I shrugged.

He gaped at me. Now he was angry. This wasn’t going how he had wanted it to.

“I know you’re coming from a good place. But it’s not nice. It’s just not… yeah.” I gripped the handle of my cane in one hand and my phone, Pokémon Go forgotten, in the other. I fought the urge to literally run away. I felt the surreal pressure of my behaviour being one of these kids’ formative disability-related experiences.

“Oh. Uh. Well. Okay. Sorry,” he said, embarrassed, not sorry. “And uh, thanks for saying that,” he said, trying to get me back. I looked away.

“I just-” he started. Even his children looked unhappily surprised that he was trying for that last word.

“I just want to say that you’re great.

I didn’t look at him. I smiled at his daughter, who smiled back out of habit, more confused than anything. His son looked down at his DS, secondhand embarrassment turning him red too.

“Hmm. Well, your kids seem nice,” I offered breezily.

After that, I moved away from the circle of green chairs and sat in an uncomfortably high stool in the corner. I hid there, head down, my hands shaking very slightly, feeling paranoid. Like I failed. And that my friends, is ableism. 

@justifiably angry anon,

The “snk is nazi propaganda” garbage started back a few years ago when someone wrote a post screaming about how Isayama supports WWII Imperialistic ideals and is a Nazi sympathizer because his story draws inspiration from historic happenings. They basically made the massive leap that because Erwin’s name is so obviously German inspired, that Mikasa was named after a battleship, and that Isayama is Japanese, surely he is an imperialist. Basically, op did this:

Originally posted by a-night-in-wonderland

What op of said post failed to do was look beyond the first season of the anime and read the fucking manga, do proper research, and realize that even though Isayama has WWII-esque era stuff in his series, he never portrays the actions of either side in his story as justified. Nor does he try to paint it as agreeable. He depicts it as absolutely horrifying and something that should be met with disdain.

However, instead of actually reading the story, the op wrote a salty post in the beginnings of the fandom and chose to remain ignorant in their beliefs while spreading their “THIS IS PROBLEMATIC AND THEREFORE NO ONE SHOULD ENJOY IT!!” guilt trip. Unfortunately, a lot of those who have never read the manga or never made it into the uprising arc bought into the bullshit and that’s how this spiral of idiocy began.

Just block them, dude. If they can’t even be open minded enough to read a work of fiction without shitting a mountain of salt out of stubbornness and refusal to admit that they’re wrong, they aren’t worth your anger. Like what you like, ignore the haters, and move on 👌💕

The Sides as Conversations I’ve Heard in Theatre

Roman: Am I not clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming, as kind as I’m handsome-
Virgil: No. You’re not.

Patton: I’m already so emotional, why on earth are you doing this to me?
Logan: All I’m doing is playing music from Les Mis.
Patton: *sobs* I know!

Virgil: How many bones do you think I would break if I fell off stage?
Logan: Well, it’s hard to say. Depends on whether you’re falling forwards or backwards, what part of your body you land on, there’s a lot factors with those kinds of things.
Virgil: Well, only one way to find out. *Hurls self off stage* Ow.

Logan: *Sliding across the stage in fuzzy socks* FOR SCIENCE!
Patton and Virgil: STOP! You’re going to hurt yourself!
Logan: *Stops sliding, falls on butt* Worth it for SCIENCE!

Roman: *Swinging prop sword all around* HI-YA! I will vanquish ALL THE FOES! *Accidentally hits Virgil hard enough to leave a mark* Oops.
Virgil: Dude, that’s kinky.
Patton: *From across the room* You guys are so CUTE! And GAY!

Seeing people complain about the CW’s lack of positive female rep and in particular female friendships is great. Seeing them complain about Arrow especially is even better.

Seeing them complain about it without mentioning Laurel Lance though, is WILD.

“Felicity’s so isolated, she has no female friendships”

“The new team has no women”

“What happened to women supporting women”

“Why are there no female friendships”

like, man, I dunno, it’s like they all disappeared for NO REASON I WONDER WHAT HAPPENED

How to make a bad impression on a mother, self-insert-version:

Went to McDonald’s to grab me one of those ice creams I love so much. In front of me was a mother with her little girl – around, four, five years old, minimum – and they were grabbing a Happy Meal for the little one, and the girl was already squeaking in joy of the toy she would get.

Now, I don’t know if it’s always like that, but here in our country, girls get the more “girlish” toy with their happy meal and boys the more “boyish” toy.  

And that little girl wouldn’t have that.

“Mommy, they gave me the wrong toy!” Already having ripped open the package to her meal to see what toy was in there. Looked like something from the Nerf-toys, in a crazy pink color. Like, BRIGHT pink.

“No, sweetie, they didn’t, that’s the toy for girls.”

“But I wanted the other one! The blue one!”

“That one is for boys, sweetie.”

And I, being a complete menace sometimes, throw in loudly, “You know, I also like blue a bit better than pink.”

There was a pause as the mother stopped counting her money and turned to me, already looking as if she wanted to yell at me, but her girl was faster, beaming up at me, “Blue is my favorite color!”

“Really?” I played along, as if I didn’t see that every bit of her clothes had at least a tiny bit blue in it. “Mine, too. Pink is cool, but blue just beats pink for me.”

“For me, too!”

And now the saleslady chimed in, looking just as amused as I felt. “If it’s just about the color, we have the same thing in blue. I can get it for you.”

“REALLY?!”

“But that one is for boys,” the mother insisted, looking insecure by now.

And the saleslady looks at her, completely deadpan, and goes in a voice that says Are you kidding me “It’s the exact same toy.”

“Yes,” a guy behind me said, joining in. “But it’s blue. That’s so much better.

And then the girl started chanting, “Blue toy, blue toy,” and the guy behind me and I laughed, and the saleslady went to exchange the pink toy with the blue toy.

Left the McDonalds with only a little bit of anxiety after being in the center of attention, a feeling of victory and a sulking mother sitting in a corner with her happily babbling little girl who was aiming with her blue toy and waved after me and I think that’s all completely worth the hate of one weird mother.