An outtake of sorts from a longfic I’m working on (Stucky+Thor) in which Darcy (who is supposed to be a minor character, plz) runs a blog where she discusses ethics in science, homemade booze from around the world, and (once she’s reviewed the hootch) philosophy.

“What’s this?” Darcy looks down at the golden flask Heimdall offers her. Man, he’s big. Like statue big. And shiny.

“An entertaining Asgardian brew common among the lower classes,” Heimdall rumbles. “For your blog.”

“My blog?” Darcy squeaks and doesn’t even care that it’s uncool. She’s not passing up that flask, either. “You read my blog?”

“Your prose is engaging and your ethical considerations are unique,” Heimdall allows, with a little tilt of his heavy head. “I find myself entertained.”

“Tell me other nice things about me.” Darcy clasps her hands behind her back with the flask between them and looks up at him expectantly from under her lashes. “I mean, you see everything, right?”

“Indeed. And there is a great deal of you worth observing.” That his golden gaze trickles down her slowly is no mistake–and a universal commentary, no doubt.

“Perhaps you should help me sample this hootch.” Darcy is glad she’s having a good boob day. They look awesome. “For science.”

“Science has been the downfall of many civilizations,” Heimdall says solemnly.

“Well, then.” Darcy takes a step closer, close enough that they could touch if either of them twitch. “How about we just do it for the chemistry?”


So like months after I drew the first nine I finally finished all my Beforus Ancestors! Karkat and Eridan’s designs already have pictures of their own in different styles, but I wanted everyone in the set to match.  Feferi had an entirely different design, but I didn’t like it so I gave her a new one.

[♈] The Auguress, [♏] the Cerebral and [♍] the Claviger.

[♌] The Finagler, [♐] the Penitent and [♉] the Exponent.

[♎] The Derelict, [♑] the Tranquil and [♓] the Reticent (old).

Masterpost of information on my Beforus Ancestors.

i know a good rack of yall will get tight over this but this niggas logic had me dying at work yesterday dude got finagled into his girls phone plan with a couple iphones n she had it set up where she could see ALL of his shit n she saw him messing with other girls on numerous occasions and confronted him like 3 times n third time ol boy was deadass like “shit why u keep looking at if u know you gonna find shit you don’t like” bruh i was crying

thepetrichist replied to your post “[breathes heavily at the PartySwap mod] [remembers that i’ll likely…”



jaybauman replied to your post “jaybauman replied to your post “darth-char replied to your post…”


lmfao same.

though it just occured to me…. i’m like not even an hour past the part where you meet atris…. and i have a save literally right outside the first module that involves handmaiden……….. i could…. probably… just………….

Wtf does tfw mean?? I don’t understand??? I’ve been trying to figure it out for so long and I think I did briefly know what it meant at one point but I have NO IDEA and I need help. What does it mean??? The fucking waffles?? Time fair women?? Type faster Wallace??? Tapestry finagling when?? The fucking what?? Time for washing?? Time for water?? That’s fucking weird?? Thanks for watching?? HELP ME

fabtrek asked:


omfg winona driving bc last time George almost drove them into the San Fran bay - ‘wHAT THE FUCK, GEORGE??’ ‘oH IM SORRY WINNIE, I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE BREAK,’ 'LEARN LEFT FROM RIGHT THEN OH MY GOD,“ - before they even left for their vacation and now George is relocated to the passengers side and has a terrible habit of finagling with the stereo which winona can’t stand and the amOUNT OF TIMES THIS MAN HAS TO FUCKING PEE, GOOD LORD GEORGE U NEVER TOLD ME U HAD THE BLADDER OF A FUCKING WALNUT but tbh, it’s not all bad, most of it is good with well meaning teasing and sometimes the back seat - and the front seat, and the roof, and the hood, and the boot - sees more than it really should but if it doesn’t make winona fall in love with this giant fucking good all over again if even sometimes she thinks she won’t be able to fall asleep next him again bc wOW he’s fucking rank after he’s ate road restaurant food but god does she love the tosspot and the sprog they’ve made that she’ll never let George tell was really conceived on the hood of George’s car rather than an expensive hotel even if it does make for some good stories and stuttered explanations to their parents

I may have to invest in one of those tablet arm things since I’m loving the Krita program so much.  I have wrecked my hand finagling with my Cintiq over the past two days.

nico1073 asked:

∗ : One ( or both ) of our muses are drunk!

The thing about company parties is that unless someone (most often Trager) was acting drunk and ridiculous, they were obscenely boring. Which, in a vicious cycle of sorts, led people to drink. The nurse had somehow managed to finagle Mark into letting her spend time with Nico so he could do whatever the hell it was that he did at these things, and somehow the two had ended up at the bar.

“Ooooooooh, Nico, shots was a bad idea.” Dahlia had a hard time hoisting the other woman up considering her own inebriated state, and instead of helping, Nico just giggled at her. The party was winding down, and the drinking felt like a million years ago, but her head was clouded, and she had to get this other girl home safely.

“Nico, look, there’s your, um- the guy.” She pointed hazily at Mark across the room, headed towards Mr. Trager, and the spilled drink inbetween the two. It almost happened in slow motion- Nico’s gaze followed her pointed finger, Mark reached the spill and went backwards, the outraged look on his normally very stoic face-

And then the high peals of laughter from the two women at the bar, holding tightly to one another, Dahlia practically on the floor, Nico shaking with joy.


Girl Code 101. We are the finaglers. The exceptions. The girls who have not run the mile in four years, who layer deep v-necks with excuses, eyelashes bat wiffle balls at the male gym teachers.

We are the girls taught to survive by using our bodies as Swiss army knives.

Calculated scrunched notes, giggles, and friendly forearm lingers.You’re so funny.”

“Please don’t touch me.”

We convince ourselves there is protection in being polite. “No, you can go first. Girls, we have to be nice.” Male kindness is so alien to us, we assume it is seduction every time.

We remember aged nine the first time we are cat-called. Twelve, fraudulent bodies calling us women before we have the chance to.

Thirteen, the year Dad says wearing short skirts in the city is like driving without a seat belt. Fifteen, we are the unmarked tardies, waved attentions, honorable mentions, and lush floral dresses.

Sixteen, we are the public school mannequins. Seventeen, we know the answer, but do not raise our hands.

Instead, we are answering to guidance counselors who ask us,

“Well… what were you wearing?”

Their voices clink-less toasts, we are led off the hook from hall monitors, retired football coaches who blow kisses and whisper “Little Miss Lipstick” into our ears in the high school cafeteria.

We shiver, but hey, at least we still get away without wearing our student IDs.

This is not female privilege. This is survival of the prettiest.

We are playing the first game we learned how to. We are the asses smacked by boys who made welcome mats of our yoga pants.

We are easily startled. Who wouldn’t be? We are barked at from the street, we are the girls petrified of the business school boys, who learn to manifest success by refusing to take “no” for an answer.

And I wonder what it says about me that I feel pretty in a dress, but… powerful in a suit.

If misogyny has been coiled inside of me for so long, I forget I will not stand before an impatient judge with an Adam’s apple, hand grasping gavel, ready to pound a wooden mark.

Give me a god I can relate to. Commandments from a voice both soft and powerful. Give me one accomplishment of Mary’s that did not involve her vagina.

Give me decisions, a wordless wardrobe, and opinion list dress, give me a city where my body is not public property. Once my friend and I got cat-called on Michigan Avenue, and she said “Fuck you” while I said “Thank you,”

… Like I was trained to.

anonymous asked:

Would you write a Yuzu and Toushiro ficlet using one of your headcanon scenerios between these two?

You have excellent taste. 

Yuzu Kurosaki was terrifying. She didn’t exude the raw power her siblings did, nor the sensation of impending death like Zaraki, or even Unohana’s intimidating presence. No, she didn’t come off as even remotely threatening. She was terrifying like Aizen. Not as evil as he, but definitely as manipulative and charismatic as he was.

She was a mastermind, for sure. She naturally knew the ins and outs of a person within minutes— their peeves and fears and weaknesses and sorrows and adorations, and knew how to exploit them. If she wasn’t so focused on her interpersonal relationships, like trying to get Ichigo and Rukia together, or finagling a couple of bucks out of her father so she and Karin could get a box of donuts and pop, she could very well cause as much havoc as Aizen did. It terrified him, and garnered his respect. She didn’t need physical strength or powers to get what she wanted, she didn’t even need to lift a finger. She just batted her eyelashes and whispered a couple of honied words and people practically threw themselves at her feet.

She was like a queen. Not his queen, but powerful all the same.

ah okay that’s a good stopping point. the mixer is v clear and clean but the channel bleed is reallllllly prominent. i had to put the analog input on channel 16; monitoring of the daw is coming from ½

i’ve finagled a way to record through plugins into Live with low latency but it requires recording two tracks at once and discarding one of them. since i don’t have like a UAD or something that’ll need to do if i want the sound printed in before anything else

BNW Alum Derek Hughes Has Got Talent!

If you’re a fan of “America’s Got Talent,” you may have seen this man delight you with his incredible magic, great comedy, and heart (and butt?)

What you might not know is that Derek Hughes is an alum of the Brave New Workshop stage! We got Derek to take a few minutes from his busy schedule to answer some questions about his life, the craziness of AGT, and the impact the BNW has made on him.

How did you get involved with the crazy kids down at the Brave New Workshop?

I went to a performing arts high school for a year and we took a field trip to the old space adjacent to the Southern Theatre to see Dane Stauffer’s [another BNW alum] one man show, “Dusenberg 55.” I finagled my way into the Monday Company and began performing weekly long form improv shows with Melissa Peterman, Jim Lichtscheidl, Margi Simmons, a whole crew of amazing talent.  It was on that stage I first experienced the power and majesty of the almighty “group mind”!  

How does your background in improv help you write jokes, create your act and perform on stage? And how did it help you react to the judges on AGT?

Improv is an indispensable facet of my artistic voice and vision.  A lot of my material involves audience participation.  Improv training has strengthened my listening.  While performing I try to listen (with all of my senses) to what is going on, and then respond and react to what I perceive in as honest and immediate a way as I can. For me, allowing the interaction to unfold in this one of a kind way is the meat of what a great show is made of.  Though my act is tightly scripted, the script is there for when the real show doesn’t happen.

What else have you been up to since leaving the frozen tundra of MN?

I’ve found the love of my life, my wife Charlene, and we’ve been blessed with two awesome boys, Edward (4) and Benjamin (2).  Charlene is constantly Zillowing homes in the Metro area.  I fantasize about raising my guys as Minnesotans.

Your America’s Got Talent act, er, “cracked” the judges up. What behind-the-scenes scoops can you tell us?

I’ll say, I was surprised by the magnatude of the the behind the scenes production.  Waiting to perform on stage in a holding area stuffed with the chaos of reality television production, it feels like countless cameras are running on acts rehearsing, b-role footage, back story interviews, it’s non stop all day long. It feels like that last thing on anyone’s mind is the 90 seconds of stage time.  Its 90 percent reality show, 10 percent talent showcase.

What’s the next step in the AGT process? 

Judge Cuts.  They’re having a guest judges sit in with the fab four.  If I make it past the Judge Cuts I’ll be headed to the live rounds at Radio City Music Hall!

You gave MN a little jab during your act (don’t worry, we forgive you). How is performing for a Minnesota audience different from other audiences?

For me there’s no audience in the world that compares to a Minnesota audience.  A huge part of success on stage is the performer’s comfort level and when I perform for Minnesotans I feel I’m at home with friends.

Any shout-outs you want to give to your peeps back in MN?

I love you with all my heart.  Not a week goes by where I don’t, at some point, close my eyes and click my heels together.  Hasn’t worked yet but I truly believe, theres no place like home.



40 years in the making and the Warriors are finally on kings of the mountain top and let me tell you, the view is spectacular. 

Just take the time to look back at the pictures, the players, the trades that didn’t work , the heartbreak, the pain of draft picks, the low spots, the brief bright spots, the players who turned into stars, the players who wore a warriors uniform when they should have been jockeying a cash register at McDonalds. 

I mean, these are the Warriors; the laughingstock and punching bag of the league. The team that good teams called to fleece good players or get the GM drunk and then finagle some future all-star away from. 

When the warriors won I cried a little bit, thinking of the years that I watched and listen to the games with my grandmother who loved this team from the time they came to the Bay Area. Through all of the very low, low times, she continued to listen, continued to support, and continued to say “They will turn it around at some point”.

She is why I am still fan because believe you me, I was close to calling it a day on multiple occasion. You can only hear the jokes from others for so long. I once went to a Laker game with my cousin where a kid of around 10, a Lakers fan, looked at me and said “Warriors suck…always have, always will”. His dad saw the rage in my eyes and escorted his son away from me. But the funny thing is that was a little over a decade ago when that happened and the kid was right. The Warriors did suck and it felt like they always would. 

But I stayed on because Warrior fans do not give up even when the team is terrible. Being around those crowds that cheered their ass off for teams that constantly disappointed and had no right to be cheered was enough to keep me on a perpetually sinking ship. 

It has to turn around at some point, right? 

Finally, finally it did and now all the years of frustration, of wondering if I would ever see a title, of envying every other franchise because they seem to have a clue, it was our time. For the Warriors and Warrior fans our ship has finally come in. 

And the funny thing is this team that Golden State assembled is the team that broke through. Well, that is until you break through things like NBA logic, personal logic, NBA history, and a franchise with a culture of losing, to see that of course these guys would be the guys to break through 40 years of futility. 

This was a point guard lead team, a point guard that once was plagued with ankle issues on top of a slender frame to be exact, that shot way too many threes, threes that they made in record numbers, with a power forward that stood at 6′5, listed at 6′7, a center who wore the phrase “If healthy” like a Scarlet Letter, a Head Coach that had never Head Coached anything, a wing player that was not athletic enough, another wing player that thought too much, a sixth man that never came off the bench before, another bench player who was the highest paid player on a team where he should have been making the veteran minimum, and a backup point guard who almost had to have his leg amputated. 

Of course this team would win. When you have so many questions attached to you and your basketball family then wouldn’t you be out to prove anyone wrong? Wouldn’t you feel like the weight of the world was on others in San Antonio and OKC and Houston where they have proven, bonafide Super Duper stars that have been there and done that before. You would never hitch your wagon or even jump on the bandwagon of a team that had so many question marks attached to it.

 A team that implemented a style that didn’t work in the 80′s when they tried it. It didn’t work in the 2000′s when the Suns used it, and then when the Warriors went back tot it. NBA logic mandates that you have one dominate big man to throw the ball into when the offense needs a basket in a slow, bogged down pace that the NBA playoffs become. You cannot, I repeat cannot, deploy five guys under 6′8 and expect to win a championship. It can’t be done. 

And then it happened. 

40 years is a long time. I hope this does not set off another 40 year departure from relevancy because that type of cruelty is something I wish on no sports fan. 

But I will not think of the future, no Warrior fan should, I will, however, bask in the greatness of a team that was 40 years in the making. A team that treated their long suffering fans to one of the most memorable, epic, and beautiful display of basketball in the history of the league. 

From 40 years of hell to 40 years to a championship. 

Thank you. 

Got my gallbladder out today. It was my first surgery ever and the first time I ever went under anesthesia. I don’t remember a damn thing from the operating room besides sliding over onto the table from the bed I was on. Then I remember waking up and saying “was it Stoney” lmao I mean obviously
It was full of stones or they wouldn’t have removed it but I find it hilarious that was the first thing I said. When i woke up and came to they shipped me back up to my room. My mom spent the day with me after that and my dad brother and niece came after that, I can’t stop peeing because of all the fluids they’ve been pumping into me but I’m in minimal pain now due to the pain pills given. It’s a semi long road to recovery but shorter than most I suppose. I have to be out of work for at least two weeks unless they can finagle something to give me light duty. I have to ask the doctor tomorrow how long it has to be if it’s light duty. I think he said a week. That kind of sucks because I have bills to pay rent to pay and a cruise to save for but I won’t be getting paid for all those weeks -.- I’m just happy to hopefully now be free of all the things that have been forsaken me lately. I’m kind of tired probably from the meds so I might close my eyes.

Working on Gem’s bio- little concerned that she’s only 16, and I may have to do some finagling to get her to a point where her absurd behavior doesn’t make me want to drag her to a convent myself.

But I’m also over on Wen keeping her up and running since she’s just back out of the box and I don’t want to lose her after everyone over there has been so kind welcoming her back. So she’s being suuuuuper active. I promise I have not forgotten any of you all. I’ve just gotten out of the habit of this level of activity.