f bomb f bomb f bomb

anonymous asked:

What input does Bill have on Dipper's fashion? Dipper on Bill's?

Bill: What you’re wearing is absolutely atrocious, I’m gonna need you to strip now thx.

Dipper: Every. Fucking. Day. Bill, I don’t need this.

kinda salty that Shepard didn’t have a little tiny bit more “colorful” vocabulary, even Paragon Shepard I mean they’re a marine they’re supposed to have a dirty mouth especially if the Shepard is an Earthborn no one was there to teach them manners plus they were in a gang

...Pleasant Conversation

Angry words shatter the stillness
you fire I bob, I weave and I duck
all things considered I’d rather
we both say I’m sorry
take this into the bedroom 
and share a nice…

Good morning my dear friends. Get your minds out of the gutter LOL, and do please try to forgive me.  Seems like I’m in a playfully good mood this morning, and it would be a shame to waste it.  Now on to more serious matters, if no one’s told you yet today, let me be the first to say…

I love you,
Mike <3

8

“Well now, what happened is, one of our base commanders, he had a sort of… well, he went a little funny in the head. You know, just a little… funny. And, uh, he went and did a silly thing. Well, I’ll tell you what he did. He ordered his planes… to attack your country.”

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964) dir. Stanley Kubrick

the boy king

(I felt like trying my hand at writing some fic, as a change from just drawing!)

Summary: It’s 1947, and they’re supposed to be picking up the pieces. Alfred makes a scene, Ivan is unmoved and Arthur reflects on how the world has changed- and what Alfred has become. 

Warnings: historical!hetalia. allusions to various real events. profanity.  


The silence is shattered by the sound of Alfred’s chair scraping across the floor.

Alfred is smiling, as always. There is no want for jauntiness in his manner, nor in the casual friendliness of his relaxed slouch, palms pressed to the table. He’d always been good at that. Putting people at ease. Not for the first time, Arthur thinks of the tall blonde surrounded by a ragged semi-circle of German children, cracking jokes, ruffling heads, handing out sweets and chewing gum. They took to him easily; he was every bit that straightforward and handsome boy-next-door, who might’ve been their older brother in another life.

But now, there is also something distinctly calculating in the tilt of his head, in the sharp alertness of his eyes.

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