kale's a dork

8

Once upon a time, I made a joke about mermaid crowns actually being really metal because, really, seashells are basically sea bones so mermaid crowns are BONE CROWNS.

Presenting: the BONE CROWN (and BONE SHOES, which singlehandedly launched me into the position of being someone people are interested in commissioning things from, sometimes.)

Bonus: grainy Instagram photo of the BONE CROWN in action. The colours are pretty washed out in it, which is a real shame.

Day 23: Juicy

I don’t think poor Steele is getting the good side of the peaches… at least not where Kale is concerned xD. I’ve been craving/missing peaches for the longest time, and thought that they could fit today’s theme! This has happened to me before… and it’s quite funny (if you’re not on the receiving end).

Kale/Steele- Flight Lessons

Please read!- These characters do NOT belong to me, they belong to Arianwen44. You should go check her out! She is such a amazing artist and writer and she has other stories for you to look at as well!

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”Steele. Hey. Steele.“ Steele grumbled in his sleep and soon his features went slack again.


"Steele. Come on. Please wake up.” Steele slowly opened his eyes only to find green eyes and blinding gold hair 5 inches away from his face. Kale smiled down at him and poked him in the side, and after a loud groan from Steele, Kale leaned back and gently started running his hands through Steele’s hair.
“What?” Steele grumbled. He was tired and it was still early in the morning. The first few rays of daylight were barely out plus the air was cool and even with the blanket and Kale covering him, he was cold.


“I had a dream.” Steele sighed and grumpily asked “So?” Kale frowned a bit and said, “You’re supposed to ask what it was about.” “What was it about?” Steele clarified and rolled his eyes. Kale was such a dork. Kale smiled and jumped into his story without a second thought.


“In my dream I was flying and surprisingly, it felt completely natural. My first thought was that I was finally free and in control. It was much harder than I thought it would be, especially the higher up I went but then I was doing flips and tricks and it was amazing! Then I felt a strong wind current pull my toward the left and it just started guiding me. I was having so much fun and I could see the sun rising over the horizon and it was beautiful.” Kale had a dreamy look in his eye and he realized that Kale must have really enjoyed his dream. Then Kale seemed to hesitate for a second before looking back down at him.


His mind had cleared a bit while he listened to Kale talk about his dream and had a brow arched in expectation. “And you woke me up… Why?” He wasn’t annoyed per say but Kale never seemed so excited talking about dragons let alone being one. The last time Steele let Kale ride his dragon form, Kale had freaked out the entire time and insulted him teasingly when he finally landed in a safe place.


Kale seemed to make up his mind and blurted out, “I really liked flying, but since I cant… I was wondering if you would let me ride you?” Kale never really asked much from Steele, aside from asking him to stop fighting with others and eat his food, but Kale looked like he was worried he had pushed the limit with this.
Steele snorted. “What’s in it for me?” Kale looked utterly surprised by the question. He smirked and stretched, with Kale  thinking quietly while still lying on top of Steele. “Hmm. What if I make you your favorite dinner?” Steele perked up at that and Kale laughed.


“Chicken and soup?” It had been a long time since the two of them had a actual descent meal and he was craving chicken. “Chicken and soup.” Kale agreed then smiled, and he continued petting Steele as he quietly laid beneath him. “I want fruit tarts included in that as well.” Kale smiled and agreed.
“I’ll make it tonight or tomorrow depending on when we get to the town. Do you think you could carry everything as well?” Kale glanced towards their pitiful excuse of a resting place. When Kale looked back towards him, he looked so happy, even Steele couldn’t deny him his wish.


“Yeah. Its not much. When do you want to go?” “Now.” He looked up at Kale and said, “I don’t know… Its pretty comfortable down here.” Kale laughed and grabbed the nape of Steele’s neck and gently pushed their lips together. They laid there, parting when they needed air and eventually Kale sprung up and held a hand down to Steele.  

“Kissing is great and all but I wanna fly.” Steele rolled his eyes, accepted Kales hand and got up. Steele helped Kale pack all their belongings up and after that was done they looked for a wide enough clearing where Steele could transform.
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Once they arrived Kale set down their belongings. “Steele, does this look okay?” Kale was checking through their pitiful supplies again and flicked his eyes over to where Steele stood gazing up at the lightening sky. The sun was starting to appear between the trees so if Kale wanted a nice view of it, they needed to hurry.


Steele flicked his gaze over to Kale and nodded. “You ready?” He asked trotting over to the blonde. Kale was bouncing on his heels and the look in his forest green eyes was something Steele doesn’t get to see often. It was a mix of excitement and bliss and it made Kales eyes stand out in the shaded sky.


“Yeah!” Steele smiled at Kale and walked a few paces away to transform.
His transformation was always uncomfortable but never really painful. He felt his bones stretch into that of a dragons size and structure and felt his skin turn to his pale blue scales and harden as he shifted.


As the transformation completed he swung his head over to where Kale stood watching him. There was no fear in his eyes but they glowed a bright green in pleasure and excitement. Steele stumbled over to where Kale and their supplies were and lowered himself to the ground so Kale could climb up onto his back.
Kale carefully used the mane on Steele’s back ridge to fling himself up since Steele’s scales were too fine and slippery to grab ahold of and climb up. He then settled himself on Steele’s back and secured himself. Steele flicked his head over his shoulder so see if Kale was ready and after a nod from the former Dragon hunter, Steele expanded his wings and launched himself into the air.


Steele flew upwards to where Kale could see the rising sun and  then slowly turned back to where their supplies laid in the dirt. He expertly lowered himself and in a clear, precise manner, grabbed their supplies with his front claws and flew upwards once more.


Behind him, on his back, Steele could hear Kale laughing and crying out in shock when Steele would do a slight turn. Steele then did a flip in midair with his claws securely gripping their necessities, after he was sure that Kale was holding tightly onto him. Kale screamed as he did it and clung impossibly hard onto Steele’s mane, and if Steele had been in human form, he would be laughing on the ground once he saw Kale’s bewilderment and shock.


They continued to fly like that for hours. At some times, Steele would fly high in the air but low enough so that Kale didn’t suffocate on the thin air but high enough that to anyone on the ground, Steele looked like a large bird. And other times, Steele would do flips or sharp turns causing Kale to let out a scream and cling tightly to the dragon.


Both of them noticed that they were close to their designated destination and Steele decided that where they were was safe enough to land so that no one would see them and alarm the village. He flew down low enough to lightly drop their supplies and after he flew back around and landed with a hard thud on the slick, snow cowered ground. He let Kale jump off his back and transformed into his human form.


“I never should have asked YOU of all people to give me a ride” Kale groaned. Steele smiled and walked behind Kale and wrapped his arms around the amused former dragon hunter. “Was it alright?” Kale sighed and leaned back into Steele’s arms. “Yeah. Thanks, Steele. It was amazing.” Kale turned and pulled Steele in for a sweet kiss. They smiled at each other and after grabbing their supplies, they headed off to their new adventure.

A video game that lampshades the player’s ability to revive after death and incorporates it into the setting:

“I don’t know what planet you’re from, kid, but here on Earth people stay dead.”

And they do. NPCs that are killed stay dead. You experience loss over the course of the plot until one of the first NPCs to die shows up again, laughs, and says,

“It’s a bit different than back home, isn’t?”

And turns out to be the Big Bad.

anonymous asked:

Imagine all of the avengers giving Natasha and Bucky miniature cacti for housewarming presents

“Very funny,” Bucky grumbles, after everyone has left, surrounded by succulents.

“I don’t know,” Natasha says, gently prodding hers with one gloved finger. “I think it’s a fantasCACTUS gift.”

Bucky doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “You’re the only one,” he says. “There’s no cact-me, Natasha. there’s only cact-us.”

“but there is cact-I, Bucky!” Natasha laughs.

“And a cact-I is plural, Natasha.”

Natasha picks up the nearest plant– a small one that Steve shyly handed to her. “Are you a succulent, Bucky?” she asks. “Because you suck the life out of me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Bucky sputters, as Natasha laughs

Dean/Cas: Care Packages

It starts with the kale.

The delivery guy looks a little bewildered, standing there outside the bunker. He called two minutes ago - "Hi, this is Peapod. I’m… here with your groceries?“ - and though Dean answered the door with a knife snuck in his back pocket, it quickly turned out that ‘groceries’ were indeed just groceries.

"Interesting place,” the man says, handing Dean a small device with a signature pad and an even tinier pen. “Please sign here?”

“Yeah.” Dean scribbles some illegible name while he eyes the parcel under the guy’s arm. “D'you have a record of who placed the order?”

“I sure do.” There’s some shuffling around and then, “Looks like a… Casteel? Castiel?” He glances up for guidance on the pronunciation but Dean’s too busy merely staring back. “Um, yeah. Castiel Winchester.”

Dean has no recollection of what happens between hearing that and bringing the package inside. He waves Sam over since he knows his brother’s been talking to Cas, but Sam swears he has no idea what this is about and Dean believes him; after all, Sam’s a terrible liar.

“… What am I looking at?” Dean asks once they’ve opened the box, because he honestly isn’t sure. Did Cas really mail him shrubbery?

“It’s kale,” Sam explains through a laugh, reaching for the invoice tucked in the back. “Oh, there’s a message.”

“Lemme see that,” Dean says, and he has to bite back a smile when he reads it for himself.

Dean - I heard from Sam that you’ve embarked on a 'health kick.’ According to my research, kale is a popular food item among health-conscious individuals and celebrities. I will text you the recipe for 'kale chips.’ It sounds promising.

“Dork,” Dean rolls his eyes, but he pulls out his phone and slaps Sam’s hand away when his brother snaps off a leaf. “Dude, get your own.”

“What? You’re gonna hate it anyway.” Sam makes a show of chewing on the bit he’s got and Dean simply frowns at him. Smart-ass, overgrown rabbit.

But as much he hates to admit that Sam was right, Dean takes a brave bite of his 'delicious veggie wrap’ a few days later only to groan “What the hell is kale? Ugh.” It’s a good thing Sam’s too preoccupied to hear him.

Keep reading

I do kind of love that all you folk who have stuck with me since the beginning have watched me grow from an uncertain mostly sex-positive queer to an openly trans nerd who works door for a play party, protests neo-nazis while nearly too sick to stand, has a volunteer job walking other queers home safe, and expresses immediate willingness to fight anyone who fucks with my found family of awesome burlesque strippers

I guess there are people who pull away from the more divisive side of public queerness, and then there’s “I’m gonna suplex every neo-nazi into the sun”

You know what? Thirteen year old me would be really fucking proud of twenty-eight year old me. I made it, and I’m kicking fucking ass.

Okay, but

Confession time: despite being utterly obsessed with that little red Fantastic Beasts book as a child- to the point where I can still quote pieces of it despite not having seen a copy in over a decade- I have not seen the movie.

I have not seen the movie because at some point in my childhood, my brain decided very firmly that Newt Scamander was Black. As best as I can figure out, this was probably because I’m from a very small, very white town, and presented with a weird name like Newt, my ignorant young mind went “sounds like a Black person name” and that was that.

Except that wasn’t that. That wasn’t nearly that. Newt Scamander wasn’t just “a Black man” to me. Somehow, over time, my mind developed an incredibly vivid image of what he looked like, and it was this:

Newt Scamander was a dark-skinned Black man in his mid-sixties, about 5'9", stocky, with a broad face and big callused hands with broad palms and short fingers. He had close-cropped salt and pepper hair, but he usually wore a hat. It was tan. He wore immaculate green checkered suits- not kelly green, more yellow, like a vibrant olive- and mustard yellow ties. He wore light brown leather shoes. He had smile lines and smiling eyes.

I have no fucking idea where this image came from. To the best of my knowledge, I did not ever encounter someone who looked like this, and I don’t usually form such absolute pictures of characters- the image was so vivid I just always assumed there had been an illustration of him somewhere.

So when the trailer for Fantastic Beasts came out, I went “WOAH, HOLD UP, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT?” and that’s when I found out that this image I had been carrying around in my head for years and years had no basis in canon- I literally scoured the internet looking for any indication that a description of Newt had ever been given. I was so sure, you know?

I actually don’t think I even can watch the movie- even the trailer gives me such wild cognitive dissonance as to be basically unwatchable.

But yeah, tl;dr: when I was a kid I decided Newt Scamander was an older Black man in a three-piece green checkered suit and a tan hat and for the life of me I cannot undo the conviction of that mental image.

(Did you know I play Pokemon Go? Well, now you know.)

Y'know, I’ve figured out what I want from Pokemon Go.

I want a fourth team- a team that isn’t really a team at all: Team Defect, the grey team. Defectors come and go, pass through Defect so they can join the team they realized too late they wanted to be on, but true Defectives always come back.

You can only defect from a colour team once every twenty-four hours (but can rejoin or join a new team right away) and you can’t defect while you’ve got Pokemon in a gym, because Defect members can’t hold gyms. They can fight them, defeat them, but the cost of abandoning allegiance to a leader is having no banner to fly a gym under. Grey gyms are Defect’s gyms. Empty gyms are Defect’s gyms.

(There’s rumours of a Team Defect leader, but they’re so varied and conflicting that it’s impossible to know if they’re talking about one person. many, or no one at all.)

I want a team that is, in function, an “oops” button for players who want to change teams to be with their friends, but in spirit, a place for people who want to just opt-out of the whole mess and hang out like an NPC.

Hey, tumblr.

I know I’ve been kind of vanishing lately, and some of you have been worried about me- don’t worry! I’m okay. At first, I was playing a shitload of video games (and not LPing any of them, whoops. I do intend to do more LPs, though) and now I’m up to something else.

I’ve been writing a book.

Some of you might recall AlterNatural, which I was writing- it sort of fell to the wayside. I was deeply concerned with not sounding like a fanfiction author (whatever the hell that actually means) when I started writing, and as a result, it rarely flowed naturally for me. I’m not happy with it, and I’m thinking I’m going to rewrite it at some point in the future. I still love the story- it just deserves better.

In the meantime, I’ve been writing something else. It’s something I started two years ago, wrote about half a chapter of, and then put down because I was too intimidated by the difficulty of executing the premise. I thought about it a lot, but never touched it again.

Until about a month ago.

Since then, I’ve completed three chapters of The Listening Man, and I’m close on a fourth. My characters keep surprising me, and I keep surprising myself, because the second I started telling myself I had to commit to races and/or ethnicities for my characters so I wouldn’t end up with a default all-white cast, they started coming to me a lot more easily, with more vibrancy and personality than before.

I’m writing a book about a biracial man with a very unusual superpower. He’s not a superhero. He’s just a guy with a kinda shitty ex-boyfriend- low-key and unintentionally shitty, like they sometimes are. He’s just a guy who’s made a system of coping with the symptoms of his ability- and who’s too tired of coping to keep pushing for more and better from things that just work. He’s just a guy who feels alienated from other people and slips into depression- sometimes for long enough that even he forgets what his sense of humour is like. He’s just a guy. That’s a central theme of the book.

And I love it. I hope you will, too, when I’m done.

I just thought I’d give folks an update on what I’ve been doing.

Writing, mostly.

So I hear you want white hair.

As someone who had white hair for several years and just finished sending someone advice on the subject, I figured “hey, what the hell, I’ll just post this shit.”

Bleaching is bleaching, that’s about all- depending on what colour, texture, type, and level of processed your hair is, the amount of bleaching it’s gonna take is going to vary. Full disclosure: if you’re trying to go white from hair that’s been dyed black, prepare yourself for the fucking inferno, because that shit is miserable. Soap caps can help with lifting relatively fresh dye without doing too much damage.

Once you’ve gotten your hair to a reasonable sort of pale lemon or inside-of-an-orange-peel colour, it’s time to talk about toning.

There are commercial toners. It’s cheaper to make your own.

What you do is take a vegetable-based dye like Manic Panic or Special Effects (or whatever equivalent you guys have across the pond) and mix a tiny bit with a ton of conditioner- either your regular stuff or, if you’re not feeling picky, a ton of cheap shit you can experiment with. 

You need to make sure the dye is blue-purple- the blue will neutralize orange tones while the purple will neutralize yellows. Ideally, the dye should be a blue-based purple (rather than a red-based purple or a purple-leaning blue, I mean) because if you’re going white or silver, you’re going to have a lot more yellow than you will orange.

The thing with making your own toner is that while it’s both cheaper in the long run than buying commercial toner and better for your hair because it’s conditioning (vegetable-based dyes are non-damaging), it can take some doing to figure out the right ratio of dye to conditioner (hint: less is better than more). You might turn your hair a very pale periwinkle blue for a week a couple of times- god knows I did.

If you use a dye that requires developer, you’ll have to dilute it the other way: with a shitload of neutral pigment. It can be done, it’s just harder on your hair and harder to fix if it goes funny.

When I had white hair, folks were always commenting on how soft it looked despite being bleached, and a lot of that had to do with both how I was toning it and how I cared for it- a lot of you probably already know this stuff, but just in case:

- It’ll be a lot drier, so you don’t need to, and shouldn’t, shampoo it every day.

- Try not to do too much in the way of heat styling, and if you do, see if you can use a protecting spray.

- If you can find hair cholesterol, it’s great, but it’s not magical or anything. If you can find anything that’s keratin-infused, it might do you some good.

- If you’re doing it yourself, try not to overlap too much with already processed hair when you’re bleaching your roots.

- Combs, not brushes, and be gentle with it when it’s wet. (If it gets stretchy when it’s wet, that means it’s very fragile and you need to not pull on it at all, ever. It’ll break like overcooked spaghetti.)

Note: I am totally sulfate-free when it comes to shampoo, and was sulfate-free when I was bleaching my hair, which is apparently less damaging. I really have no idea how much that actually affects anything.

To demonstrate that I am not, in fact, full of shit, have this super attractive photo:

(It is important to note that my hair is a dirty blond naturally- bleaching from virgin hair only took me one process. Like I said, it’ll be more upkeep for anyone darker than that.)

kageprobably-deactivated2016010  asked:

Kale since you're into bones and skeletons and things where do you think you would fit into the skeleton war, rank-wise?

Well, you see, presumably I, Private Skaletal “No Knees” Screamy, would start off as a humble skeleton foot soldier, drafted into the war after my unexpected and invariably silly demise at the hands of several expired hot dogs and a particularly high-voltage electric fly swatter.

After some time spent narrowly avoiding being reduced to so much bone dust and wasted marrow together, I will have formed a close bond with similarly hapless Privates Phallanghip “G-Flat” Yellingson and Hyroid “The Beef” O’Hollerman, who met their ends by way of a badly-tuned and inadvisably situated grand piano and the too-sharp edge of a freshly opened can of Chef Boyardee Whole Grain Beefaroni, respectively.

Over the months to come, Yellingson, O’Hollerman and I will share our hopes and dreams for life after flesh. I will learn that Yellingson is waiting for his love to expire and join him, though O’Hollerman and I will frequently confer privately about our confusion over where he got the x-ray of her skull that he keeps folded and tucked in the foraman of his L5 vertebra.

O’Hollerman, fibulas bowed and phalanges gnarled, will express contentment at her lot, saying she’d rather not see any of her children or grandchildren any time soon. One night in the trenches, she will admit to me that the incessant shrieking of a land overrun by warring skeletons is still rather quiet compared to the home of her daughter and son-in-law, where she spent her last days.

During an especially knobbly engagement with the enemy, who is nearly indistinguishable from ourselves except for having crudely markered-on angry eyebrows on their supraorbital ridges instead of crudely markered-on curly moustaches on their maxillas, Private Yellingson will meet his tragic yet bizarrely appropriate second end by way of a handmade frag grenade filled with piano keys, and despite my best efforts to drag a fractured Private O’Hollerman to safety, she will clack reassuringly at me in the mood-appropriate downpour before screaming her last.

Tormented by their reintegration into the soil, I will grow reckless and be mildly but not disfiguringly injured in the line of duty, at which point I will meet the comely skeleton nurse Shrieksa Osteone, with whom I shall go on to carry on an extended love affair. Charmed by her gentle manner and the completely unsuspicious and flatteringly jaunty way she pulls her nurse’s cap down over her supraorbital ridge, I will come to regard her as the love of my bony, patella-less afterlife.

However, hoping to surprise her with a token of my love, a ring I have created out of the bullet she removed from my sacrum, I will stumble upon her without her nurse’s cap and discover her true identity as a double agent. Alas! Her curly moustache was only dry erase marker, and our love nothing but a convenient lie.

Double-tormented by the second ends of my friends and the betrayal of my lover, I will desert the skeleton army, scraping off my crudely markered-on curly moustache by rubbing my skull against the ground in self-destructive loathing of an unfair world.

I will spend long years hiding from the skeleton military police before stumbling across a familiar skull- it is my brother, the elder Screamy! Together, we will hatch a cunning plan- to escape to the land of the living and blend seamlessly amongst them, undetected.

It will not be easy, but when we finally arrive, we will establish ourselves as modest human traders, erecting Screamy & Screamy Shoe Polish Supply in the parking lot of an unsuspecting and unappreciative Wal-Mart. Undisturbed by such things as land ownership and with great experience screaming at things until they go away and stop bothering our customers, as well as screaming at our customers until they buy something in the desperate hopes of being released from our store, we will go on to become the region’s foremost supplier of bulk shoe polish and dehydrated cosmetic tapeworms.

It is there we will spend the rest of our bony existences, blending amongst the humans and accumulating a slew of incredibly mixed Yelp reviews.

That’s the general idea, anyway.

I haven’t really thought about this a lot, as I’m sure you can tell.

And He Was Only Ever Kissed By Thieves

About cooks, sailors, soldiers, thieves, bastards, and liars- a tale of someone who has lived long enough be all of these things but one, and someone who is only the other, but knows better than to take the rest too seriously.

Written on a whim. Eight thousand words of the most self-serious idiot on the high seas and a kid whose life skills appear to include peeling potatoes and not a hell of a lot else.

If you are looking for suave Levi, he is not here. He has never even seen this work. This is the antithesis of suave Levi. I have met kindergarteners with more game than this Levi.

Fair warning.