don't judge me for knowing all their names

anonymous asked:

Today; Do you know why I don't donate here? Because your company doesn't give the customers credit for their donations. They say "company name donated money to an animal shelter, not company customers donated." Buddy. I don't give a flying flaming fuck.

Want to know what’s worse? The company gets a huge tax write off for “donating” all the money they get from the customers. So in essence they are making a profit on your generosity.

But it’s a yes or no question and most of us don’t judge if you say no. I personally could care less. Just tell me no and we’ll move on to the next annoying question I’m forced to ask you.

-Rodney

It’s late in November when Mum brings the pony home.

Dad is sitting disapprovingly in the Morris, which he and Gabe have only managed to resurrect hours before, watching as she comes through the gates with a pony by her side. It’s small, the color of grass in the middle of winter, with black ears and legs and wide, startled eyes, but it’s sudden appearance delights me anyways.

Finn lets out a yell of dismay from his stroller, but I’m already tearing away from him and across the yard, running to Mum. “She’s beautiful! Is she ours?”

Mum smiles at me, but her gaze flicks warily towards Dad. The sun is beginning to set, and her hair glows in it, an autumn wave against her lilac sweater. Dad says I’m beginning to look a lot like her, but I can’t see it. Or the pony, for that matter. I put my arms up, and even though Mum has a hold on a rope tied around the pony’s neck, she scoops me up and braces me against her hip. I hold out a hand, and the pony puts her nose to it. Her breath is warm.

We’ve never had a horse before, but Mum likes to take Finn and I for walks around the island during the summer to see the foals. I can tell this one is young, but maybe almost grown, like Gabe. They both have long legs and look not quite as solid as the adults. “She is ours, Puck,” Mum tells me.

Dad must have gotten out of the car, because when Mum turns, there he is, standing at her shoulder and holding out a hand to the pony. Fishing season is over, so he smells comfortably of home for once, of freshly-sawed wood and his shaving cream, and he’s letting his hair grow back out curly again. “I guess we couldn’t hold off getting another horse for much longer,” he admits as I bunch a handful of Mum’s sweater in my fists.

“Another? We had one before?”

“We sold him right before your father and I married,” Mum tells me. “But I’ve missed having horses.”

Finn’s crying now, and I cast a despairing look at him over my shoulder. There’s a pony in the yard, our pony, and all he can do is wail. But that’s what you’d expect from a baby. I’m smug with being four years old- there’s lots more I can do than Finn. Including riding this pony. “I want to sit.”

“She’s not yet broke, love.” Mum puts me down on the dirt. It’s cold against my bare toes, but I dig them into the ground anyways and jut out my jaw. Gabe, still petering about in the Morris, has finally abandoned all pretense and come over to us to study our new family member.

She’s studying us back, I can tell. Dainty hooves lift, unsettled, and she tosses her floof of a mane. “Mum, where’d you get her?” Gabe asks, stepping closer. The pony puts a muzzle to his shoulder and then yanks it away, upset. Her breath is fog in the black strip of setting sun over the house. Everything about her is beautiful, but my brother frowns.

“Yes, where did you?” Dad asks, raising an eyebrow.

Mum laughs, and the pony’s ears come forwards. “Old Conwell, down the road. One of the neighbor’s ponies got in with his mare, and he’s been trying to sell the foal ever since. I decided now was as good as time as ever, yes? You can’t keep a Keown woman off a horse forever.”

“I’d have liked to have known first,” Dad says, but I can tell he isn’t really mad because he smiles and then presses his smile against Mum’s. They kiss for a moment, but then the pony tosses her head and lets out a shrill whinny. For a moment, her voice pierces the air, and when she’s quiet again it rings in my ears.

Mum pulls away from Dad. “I’ll put her up in the shed tonight. Tomorrow, Puck and I will build a paddock for her, won’t we?” she asks me.

“I’d rather ride,” I say, imagining the glimpses of race training I’d seen last month when we were in town. It’s horse and rider, together so tightly they may as well be one creature, floating down the shore in a gallop, and it’s beautiful and fast. I want to go fast.

Mum passes the rope to Dad and bends down so she’s eye-to-eye with me. That’s one thing I can see us both being similar in. Our eyes are blue like the summer skies, though they’re lost to winter. “Kate,” she says, seriously. So I know to listen. “This is not about riding. This is about your new best friend. If you take care of her, she’ll take care of you. But she does not exist to be ridden, yes? That is not her only purpose in life.”

I understand. “Yes, Mum.”

She smiles and stands, taking the rope back from Dad. Finn has stopped crying now, and the yard falls silent.

Tentatively, Gabe asks, “what is the pony’s name?”

“She’s a horse,” Mum corrects, leading her forwards. “And I haven’t decided yet. Maybe you and Puck should think of something.”

But I already know, because it’s in a story Father Mooneyham told us last week, about how all the animals were trapped on a boat and they sent a bird out to find land. It found an island, and it came back with a stick to prove it. I loved that story, because I liked imagining that I was that bird, battling the winds, the sea, the odds, by myself to find my island. And of course I did.

“Dove,” I answer. “Her name is Dove.”

Conversation about why LGBTQ+ needs Rep.
  • Him: Why are films adding so many gay characters this year?
  • Me: They are trying to be inclusive and represent us.
  • Him: they're trying to shove downs gayness down people's throat!
  • Me: no they're not. They wanna show we're here! We have feelings and we need accurate representation.
  • Him: my thing is, it's either a learned condition or a generic condition. You're defective.
  • Me: I'm not defective because I'm gay! It's not a learned condition because my life is full of heteros and I'm still hella gay.
  • Me: if heteros get to be represented, why can't LGBTQ+ be as well?
  • Him: why do you want to be represented?
  • Me: So that they know we are all human and we matter. No one is going to jump a straight couple holding hands on the streets. No one is going to call them names just for loving who they love! We go through life being judged and hurt by other simply because they don't understand. That's why we need representation.
Have any of you heard of these bands/singers?

•Alice In Chains
•Alison Krauss
•Heart
•Limp Bizkit
•Hinder
•Kid Rock
•Queen
•Green Day
•Blink-182
•Sleeping With Sirens
•5 Seconds Of Summer
•Boston
•Stone Temple Pilots
•KISS
•Three Days Grace
•Three Doors Down
•Bob Segar
•Metallica
•Neil Young
•John Denver
•The Beatles
•Skillet
•Shinedown
•Led Zeplin
•Def Leopard
•Nikel Back
•Puddle Of Mud
•Linkin Park
•God Smack
•Areosmith

If so, tHEN LETS BE FRIENDS OK? OK.

TALKING TO A CUSTOMER
  • HER: i wanted to get my first tattoo?
  • ME: sure, hun, what were you thinking of?
  • HER: well, i wanted an outline of a spray paint can on the pad of my finger
  • ME: ...
  • ME: okay, i'm gonna tell you right now that that's a terrible idea and no reputable artist will do that.
  • HER: WHY NOT! i really want it!
  • ME: that's nice, our shop policy is that we don't do hands, forearms, neck, or faces on people for their first tattoo. it's because we're looking out for you, and the sad truth is that people will judge you, deny you jobs, not rent to you, all because of these tattoos.
  • HER: yeah, i don't care about that.
  • ME: [thinking "obviously, because you're a CHILD"] but it's going to fade out unevenly and look like a blurred mess. none of our artists want to attach their name to something that will look like shit.
  • HER: but i promise i won't tell anyone who did it. [she legitimately pouts here]
  • ME: ...
  • ME: YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE, INSULT MY ART!
  • [okay, i actually said "you do know tattoos are an art right? well, our artists have integrity that they're not going to just toss away." after which she said "really?" and then left, saddened.]
  • FUCK YOUR TINY TRENDY TATTOOS, THINGS DON'T WORK LIKE THAT.

1st Try

Imagine Namjoon being your roomate. He is rarely home, because of his tight scedhule, but you two are so close that your friends starting to think that you two are things.


It is starting that night when you are already fast asleep and namjoon just come from his usual exercise with the boys.


Realize that you were asleep he tip toe to your room to peek from your door that open a lil bit, kind of your habit because you know it is safe at your apartement.


Namjoon was all silent like a cat and when he arrived at the end of your bed seeing you peacefully sleep with your back facing him, he had this kind of urge to sleep beside you, not with his sweaty body of course.


Just like that, he leave your room immediately to shower and after that, he, again, tiptoeing to your room, your bed precisely, to sleep beside you.


Being a sleepyhead you are, you don’t realize that Namjoon is spooning you. You just think that you are in your comfy, squishy duvet and without you realize it you feel comfortable with the a lil bit hot duvet and lean on it.


It makes Namjoon freez to realize that you still quite asleep.


But to Namjoon dismay, you start to rolled your front body to him, and twice, it makes him freezed to realize again you were still asleep.


To see your furrowed brow, he kissed it gently and when he realised he kissed all your face, your eyes, your nose, your cheeck, chin, and lips.


It stirred you in your sleep but it is not a great disruption for a sleepyhead like you, but there is this thing about you that make his dimples appear, in your stirred sleep phase, you call his name, because you just dream about him kissing all your face when in reality he already did that.


And that was the time Namjoon was so speechless that he bite your ear and you suddenly awake with hurt and another things, his face facing you with bottom lips being bitten and you know that you are in danger

hi my name’s usnavi and i’m on ao3

i make reddie fanfiction. i should be making winteriron (or any tony ships, really) ones but i’m in a funk don’t judge me.

anonymous asked:

nurseydex 17 and it's the same name on each wrist lol

17. the one where your soulmate’s name is on one wrist and your enemy’s name is on the other and you have no clue which is which.

Looking back, Will thinks, it’s probably not fair that he hated Derek before he ever met him.

It’s in his nature, to fight. He grows up fighting everything–wrestling his brother, slamming people hard on the ice, crawling his way out of his piece of shit town to a scholarship at a Ivy League university. 

But the names on his wrists don’t help. Perfect text, scrolling across his skin–and matching. Derek and Derek, like the whole universe is laughing at him. And maybe it is. Two matching names, two matching male names. 

If he wasn’t already fighting, he’d start now.

By the time he gets to Samwell, he’s already done with Derek, whoever Derek is. 

Just his luck that Derek is Derek Nurse, Will’s height, and broad-shouldered, and muscled from hockey, and grinning at Will, his green eyes bright and so gorgeous Will wants to bolt out of his tour group and jump on the first bus back to Maine. 

They clasp hands, though, because it’s the part of the tour, and Will’s wrists burn like he’s been branded.

“Holy shit,” Derek says, his eyes wide. “Holy shit–William, right?”

“It’s Dex,” Will says. 

Derek is still staring at him. He has his sleeves pushed up to his forearms, and Will looks, because he has to, and–

Fuck.

Derek’s wrists match, too.

Will drops his hand, shoving both of his into his pockets. “It’s just Dex,” he says, stepping back. 

“Wait,” Derek says, reaching for him.

Will bolts.

And then, because it’s habit–he starts fighting.

It’s almost a relief when Derek starts fighting back.

Except that it isn’t. Because Derek fights as dirty as Will does but looks way better doing it, and Will can barely focus on yelling at him without getting distracted by his stupid eyes and his stupid hair and his stupid face and just–everything. And it’s not supposed to come onto the ice, but of course it fucking does, and then Chowder’s mad at them, and–

Well. It’s only a matter of time.

The basement door closes behind them, and Will slumps back against the dryer. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Next to him, Derek snorts. “Might smooth things out,” he says. “You wanna give it a try?”

Will scowls at him. “Don’t even joke,” he snaps, and Derek flinches, and then sighs. For the first time in weeks, the fight seems to go out of Derek’s face, and something twists inside his chest as he watches Derek sit down on the floor, leaning up against the beaten-up couch across from the laundry machines. Will hesitates, and then, because his stupid heart won’t let him not, sits down next to him.

For a few moments, they sit in uncertain silence, almost close enough to touch, but not reaching out.

Derek speaks first. “I dated a William in high school,” he says.

It’s not what Will’s expecting. “What?”

He looks up, but Derek’s looking at the floor, not at him. “It was my freshman year,” he says. “He was a senior. But like–I had his name on my wrist, you know? And the first time he touched me, it was like what happened with us. Just–instant. Electric.” He glances up. 

Throat tight, Will nods. He remembers. “What happened?”

Derek shrugs. “Turned out to not be such a nice guy.” He curls his fingers over his right wrist, briefly, and then presses his lips together. “I’m just saying,” he says, and hesitates. When he speaks again, he sounds nervous. “Just because it’s the same name doesn’t mean it’s the same person.”

Will opens his mouth. His first instinct, feral and automatic, is to push. To say, yeah, but both of my wrists burned. To say, you don’t know what I went through, having your name on my skin

But as much as he’s used to pushing, Derek Nurse’s eyes are–

He takes a breath. “I,” he says, and his voice comes out low, and uncertain, and small. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Derek’s hand slips into his. The skin of his wrist is warm against Will’s. It doesn’t burn, doesn’t itch. It–fits.

“Good,” Derek says. “Me neither.”

Courage the Cowardly Dog Starters
  • But creepy stuff happens in ___
  • Stupid dog!
  • You made me look bad!
  • I'll save you!
  • The things I do for love.
  • I know I'm not gonna like this.
  • I just know something bad is going to happen.
  • What do I do? What do I do!?!
  • Where's my dinner!?!
  • So good to see ya.
  • Would you like a cup of tea?
  • I'm ugly! UGLY! UGLY!
  • There's nothing I can do, nothing at all.
  • You twit.
  • You look good enough to me.
  • Something smells fishy.
  • Return the slab, or suffer my curse
  • What's your offer?
  • This night, you will be visited by three plagues, each worse than the last
  • Well judging by the markings and the obvious age of the relic, I'd have to say it would be...GARBAGE!!
  • That freak's not setting one freaky foot in this house!
  • Hello new friend my name is ___
  • The words you hear are in my head.
  • I say, I said my name is ___ and I've been very... NAUGHTY.
  • Where's my chair?
  • Hey! That's my washing machine!
  • I don't know why I'm doing this. But I like it.
  • This is all your fault!
  • Let me lay down the ground rules
  • Remember that and we won't have no trouble.
  • You wanna piece of me!?
  • He's stupid, right?
  • I don't know why I thought that would work.
  • That is the worst case of ___ I have ever seen.
  • I hope that's the sound of dinner getting made in there.
  • Sad, isn't it?
  • A little sport before dying?
  • I wish you hadn't done that.
  • You're gonna make hamburgers?
  • Where's my burger?
  • Where's my breakfast?
  • I'm starving to death!
  • Who the heck are you?
  • Help!Help!help!
  • It appears that I am being kidnapped!

oh-boy-am-i-gay  asked:

I'm gay & due to my experiences with religion and the people who follow it, my relationship with religion is tenuous. As a person who identifies as transgender, how do you seek solace in a religion people use to judge you? If you don't mind my asking

that’s simple– it’s people who do the judging, not the religion. we know from scripture that god loves all his beloved children, and yes, beloved includes his queer children too. one of the principle tenants of christianity is to love thy enemy as thyself. someone may stand in opposition to you, but you gotta keep your moral backbone and behave towards them with peace because that’s what christ wants his followers to do. if someone tries to degrade me in the name of religion 1) they’re acting sacreligious, as any form of degradation of another man goes directly against god’s word, and 2) their words can’t harm me because i know how religion really works. it exists to fight for the oppressed, to liberate those who need liberating, and to bring light into the lives of those lost in the dark. people will hate me for being trans and keeping my faith. doesn’t matter. at the end of the day i’m gonna pray that they and their families know nothing but love and happiness (as hatred stems from insecurity and fear), and that one day they will be awakened and educated to their mistakes.

i take solace in my religion because it’s not a religion of hate, it’s a religion of freedom. other people have stated it better than i can, but jesus’s teachings were a radical example of liberal activism meant to give protection and strength to all those facing marginalization from the people in power. sure it’s got a complex history and sure bigots often appropriate it for their personal greed, but listen, between you and me christianity ain’t here to elevate the judgers. it’s here to elevate the people who’ve been broken by years and years of weight, who live hand to mouth, who struggle to make it in a society that wants them to fail. jesus was a mixed-race brown boy murdered by contemporary police for actively, radically, amazingly defying the oppressive government of the time. jesus was a fantastic example of strength and light in the face of the same type of people who would hate him if he were alive today. jesus is here for you and your gayness, he’s here for me and my transness, he’s here for all the people who get harassed and beaten and spat on and abused and told they’re not beautiful. he’s here for you, he’s fighting for you, he’s fighting back with you and he thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, and damn it if that’s not enough to give me solace every day for the rest of my life, then i don’t know what will.

OTP Tags!
  • So I have a load of weird tags for all my OTPs (some haven't been used yet) but I wanted to post the names here so they're easy to find in the future. All are preceded by "OTP: "
  • Tsukkiyama: Night Sky
  • Bokuaka: You know owls say up all night ;)
  • Daisuga: Suga-ry and Sawa
  • Levyaku: Welcome To Our Cafe
  • Kagehina: Sunkissed blueberries
  • Iwaoi: The local tip
  • Kiyoyachi: Beauty and the cutie
  • Kuroken: Cats do all sorts when you're away ;)
  • Asanoya: I love Yuu
  • Kyouhaba: One man and his mad dog-chan
  • Ukatake: Beauty and the badass
  • And... That's it? I only have 11 OTPs.

you know what makes me happy? girls being excited for other girls when they have sex. girls being supportive of girls who want something casual. girls being there for girls who don’t want anything at all. girls lifting each other up for their choices instead of calling them rude names and judging them for something that doesn’t hurt anyone 👌🏽👍🏽👀

You by Jack Harries.

Hi there! My name is Jack, and I guess I’m what you call a ‘content creator’ on YouTube.

There’s one simple reason why I’m able to call myself a creator on YouTube, and that reason’s in the name of the platform. It’s you.

You see as a creator on YouTube, you start like everyone else.

A voice amongst millions, uttering a word, with a somewhat absurd assumption that you might just be heard.

Perhaps you have big ambitions for your place in this space, or perhaps your reason here are not all that clear.

Regardless of your reason, your desire is the same.

And neat passion to connect and build your own name.

‘Cause really, if you think about it, isn’t that the aim?

To communicate and inspire? Regardless of how vain and an aim of how some consider this game.

You see to be successful on YouTube: Two things are required,

A combination of luck and a deep burning desire.

You see no one gets anywhere without the good will of others,

a kinsfolk, a community, a band of cyber-brothers.

We rely on you, to give us our start,

and once that’s done, it’s our turn to play part.

You see, no one gets anywhere without hard-work and dedication,

a fact that’s often missed by these mainstream media publications.

You see YouTube is a democracy. Laughing in the face of media’s monopoly,

They think we won this like sort of of lottery.

And as a result, they write about us with an error of mockery.

But don’t for a second, imagine that as creators we are complicit,

about how lucky we are to be in situation.

Having said that, let me make clear,

that there are some individuals who simply don’t belong here.

You see for some, a level of influence seems to lead to an inexcusable ignorance.

You see there are certain characters who’ve recently made the news,

Those who use their power to abuse.

But, believe me when I say, their names will soon fade away.

You see, the creators that I admire, are those who have the desire,

to push and reach another level higher,

those who attempt to break free from the norm,

to challenge the often repetitive form.

But, don’t think for a second, that they forgotten their roots.

Those initial subscribers who supported their pursuits.

You see as a creator, I am grateful and humbled,

but please bear with me as I haphazardly stumble,

whilst it might look like I understand what I do… Allow me to confidant you and say I haven’t a clue.

As this website expands and evolves, content-creators appear and dissolve,

Trends will come and go,

and over while, the website will grow.

But one thing stays the same,

and will continue to do so.

And the reason the website grew all those years ago,

Is in the name of the website and it won’t go away.

The reason why I do what I do today…

Is you.

-

(P.S: I know some words won’t make sense. I couldn’t spell/understand some of the words he stated.)

3

<FILE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU AMAZING ARTIST>

(((Yes, a (2-day-late) happy birthday to http://ciderarts.tumblr.com/ who requested some cuddling Rainbow Dust in the cybiverse because I don’t know why. Whatever. You got me to actually update this blog, so congratulations?

Also, nobody cares how much you dis/like your art, it’s an inspiration to someone out there. Not every piece of art you post has to be something to be proud of. If that were the case, this blog wouldn’t even exist. Uh scratch that.

If anyone actually reblogs this, please edit out these triple parentheticals because gods what a shipwreck of a mess it is. It’s midnight, okay? Strange things happen at the witching hour. (Also I just recieved a heartfelt letter from a friend that’s made me all emotional; stop judging me.))))

anonymous asked:

When I saw you last Summer at my dad's PR event you were maaaaaddd stuck up and snooty. You were with Glyn and I was just there chilling, I didn't even notice that you were there but then I did, and I looked at you only ONCE and you gave me THE stankest look ever! You don't even know me. Btw, I am a girl. You need to watch it cause a big head won't get you very far in this industry. You ain't all that, nor does anybody know your name yet. So until then, Learn to be humble hun.

When people say this to me it’s just so annoying… You look for anything in someone facial expression to judge them or be like “they’re stuck up” …

What if there was something in my eye.. What if I just heard something I didn’t like what if I was just not in the mood. I’m a human too I have emotions just putting that out there. Just because I don’t have a smile on my face 24/7 doesn’t mean I’m stuck up or not humble.
You don’t even know me… I bet you haven’t even listened to my music

Trust me.. Unless you’ve done something to me there is no reason in this world I’m looking at somebody I don’t even know with an attitude.

anonymous asked:

Have you ever actually read the Qur'an? These extremists are NOT Muslim, and it sickens me that they claim to be. They're just this generation's version of the soldiers who fought in the crusades: brain-washed, bought, but they don't speak for the religion as a whole. Did/Do those beliefs of "killing the name of God" ring true for the entirety of the faith? Both Christianity and Islam are against killing, and judging a faith based on its ignorant followers just isn't fair.

I actually want to once I find the time, so that won’t be an argument against me.

But, for now:

Quran (2:244) - “Then fight in the cause of Allah, and know that Allah Heareth and knoweth all things.”

Quran (3:151) - “Soon shall We cast terror into the hearts of the Unbelievers, for that they joined companions with Allah, for which He had sent no authority”.

Quran (8:12) - “I will cast terror into the hearts of those who disbelieve. Therefore strike off their heads and strike off every fingertip of them”

Quran (9:30) - “And the Jews say: Ezra is the son of Allah; and the Christians say: The Messiah is the son of Allah; these are the words of their mouths; they imitate the saying of those who disbelieved before; may Allah destroy them; how they are turned away!”

Quran (9:123) - “O you who believe! fight those of the unbelievers who are near to you and let them find in you hardness.”

Quran (66:9) - “O Prophet! Strive against the disbelievers and the hypocrites, and be stern with them. Hell will be their home, a hapless journey’s end.”

Just some out of the few things in the Quran that call for violence against nonbelievers. Plus, this is backed up by things actually happening. You don’t see christian self proclaimed crusaders committing acts of terrorism in muslim countries. Yet what we do see is Jihad happening, as well as extreme persecution to downright genocide of christians in muslim nations.

Islam is not a religion of peace. it will never be, it was founded on war and war will always be at its core.

Handbags are great.

In what feels like less than like half a meter you’ve got this amazing vault that you can fill up to the brim with completely useless crap! After this weekend in Napa Valley where I spent three fourths of the time utterly drunk, I managed to pack in a case of dental floss, two thongs, a single bra strap, my Karl doll I thought I had left back home and a flashlight. Anyone wanna tell me how all of those things fit in there? Nobody knows! Magic. The magic of the handbags!

Hello, my name is Cara, these are the things that amuse me when I’ve slept twenty hours in the past four days. What’s amusing you?