take it *shoves*

While Mr. Poppeacock and Scrooge have a fairly vitriolic relationship, Mr. Poppeacock’s grandson, Nizar, gets along quite well with Scrooge’s nephew and great-nephews. He’s a good in-between, older than the boys but younger than Donald, which puts him in the position being able to relate pretty well to both generations; sharing an exasperation with his older family member as well.

anonymous asked:

is it normal to have full blown panic attacks and disconnect from reality because of dysphoria? every time i realized that i was born a girl it gets so bad i have to take emergency medication, usually i shove it away and try to ignore my body (and mirrors). is this a normal thing to happen? i'm sorry if this is poorly worded/a ridiculous question, thank you for your time

People have different severity of reactions to dysphoria. Some are extreme and some are barely there. It is normal (I have severe reactions whenever I see my chest), but it’s definitely not a good thing to have all the time. 

-Suleyman

my experiences with overwatch characters
  • genji: despite all the 'i need healing' memes, they're usually pretty nice. they know the entire team is watching and waiting for them to crash and burn
  • mccree: either spawn from hell or just here to have a good time (usually the latter). will probably try to say hi at the enemy spawn
  • pharah: very friendly. will almost never get their ult to go off but won't be salty about it. thanks healthpacks
  • reaper: KINKY. either cursed as shit or will say hello to anything and everything. anyone that mains reaper has dreamt of him crushing their head between his monster thighs
  • solider 76: VANILLA. it's okay though, most people want to fuck him but can't explain it
  • sombra: definitely only here to have a good time since she's basically useless until the devs give her a monster buff. if the player spams the boop voiceline you will hear that noise in your nightmares forever
  • tracer: very high chance they're gay. very high chance one of the enemy team will switch to tracer because they're annoying
  • ana: absolute sweethearts who will risk life and her other eye to keep you alive. secretly enjoys watching the person she's nanoboosted lose their fucking mind trying to make the most of it though
  • lúcio: again, really sweet. unless they're on ilios in which case he's public enemy number one and even if he's on your team you shoudn't trust him
  • mercy: probably picked healer because everyone else picked genji and hanzo. alternatively, a masochist. if the pistol is used a lot they probably mained medic in TF2 and don't fear god or death
  • zenyatta: most likely play competitive too much. another top tier picks for gays but they probably have clinical depression
  • symmetra: [flicking teleporter on and off] welcome to my reality welcome to my reality
  • reinhardt: in the top three most likely to say hi in spawn. please get behind him
  • roadhog: this one is skin dependent. normal roadhogs are like your weird uncle but roadhogs with the islander or junkenstein's monster skin are maniacs and will hook your entire ancestral line across the map
  • winston: i've only ever seen like three. cryptids
  • zarya: tied with tracer and zenyatta as a pick for gays. a good zarya will take your bullets and shove them back up your ass at mach-1 speed
  • d.va: the chaotic good of the universe. probably has play of the game before the match has even started
  • bastion: probably tried to play bastion in competitive once and that was enough. anyone that places him on that elevator thing in hollywood is a scorpio
  • hanzo: they take skirmish way too seriously
  • junkrat: THE CHAOTIC EVIL TO D.VA'S CHAOTIC GOOD. the sound of a riptire is actually an effective tactic to kill the enemy team irl because half of them will have a stroke out of stress
  • torbjörn: lava eating machine. all of them are cursed and i'm personally afraid of him
  • widowmaker: 57 shots, 1 kill. if they're using the odile skin they're probably a straight male
  • mei: fuck you to hell
10

Daisy Johnson in Agents of SHIELD: ‘Farewell, Cruel World!’

Haggar: I made you strong and this is how you repay me!

Shiro: 🖓😡 you made me strong? 😅 🏋 💪 I made 🔝 myself strong! 💪🏋 💯 grind ❤ never 🙅 stops 💯♛ I work ✌👌 for every 👏 gain 🏋 🎖💪 your hate 🤔 is 👏 my 👏 fuel! 🙃🏅😊 you keep whining 😑 I keep winning 👌🏆💪🏅

super duper lazy and short animatic that i may or may not clean up

While Eddy was unconscious Edd found a pillow, covered Eddy with a blanket to keep him warm, bandaged his head, poured him some juice, made/bought a get well card, and even placed a vase or flowers near him.

Instead of finding a chair Edd sits on a bucket watching over Eddy as Ed breaks open the drawer?

Why not call an ambulance or a parents if it were that serious?

Other then that Edd is the greatest friend anyone could ever have.

anonymous asked:

Bruce an tim are killing me so just, Bruce coming back from death and seeing the obvsly exhausted tim (one day in the manor getting some of his things together) and just bruce realising not everything is ok with tim because he's too skinny for a 17 yrs old kid, looks lot paler than before. And ofc bruce somehow realising tim lost his spleen and he wasn't snooping around he just stumbled into all the vitamins/pills tim takes and maybe he freaks out a bit because too many pills?? Anyway dad b pls

There’s weight to his movements– an almost imperceptible sluggishness that, at first glance, Bruce passes off as exhaustion. The kid’s been through hell and back, of course he’d be tired, but after a few more moments of closer observation, Bruce decides that that’s not what this is.

The line of Tim’s shoulders is bent in a slump, gravity seeming to press down heavily on every inch of his frame. He’s slimmer than when Bruce saw him last, back before… well, everything. Tim’s always been a slight kid, but this is different. It’s unsettling, to say the least. Bruce is used to seeing Tim practically bouncing with a limitless supply of energy. He doesn’t know what to think of- how to take in this Tim; this more reserved, quieter version of the kid he once knew. Sure, in some ways, Tim is still the same snarky, bratty, clever partner that’s been by his side for a good while now, but it’s– it’s subdued, a little.

Bruce’s hands curl into fists at his sides as he watches Tim rummage through the medicine cabinet, pausing occasionally to shake out a pill or two from a number of different bottles, adding them to a small pile on the countertop. Bruce can’t remember Tim ever having to take that many supplements, meds, or whatever the hell all that is. It makes him feel angry; not at Tim, no, it wasn’t his fault. Mostly at himself. At Ra’s. At the world in general, for being such a cruel place.

Tim makes a sudden noise, an annoyed huff as he leans back on his heels, glaring at the pillbox resting on the cabinet’s top shelf; a good few inches above his reach. Bruce breathes out a soft laugh, lips quirking up into an easy smile as he relaxes his hands and steps up behind Tim, reachimg for the pillbox and handing it to his son, who takes it with a roll of his eyes.

“Why do we even have a shelf that high?” Tim grumbles, popping a few supplements into his mouth and dry swallowing.

“Purely to spite you,” Bruce replies seriously, nudging Tim’s shoulder with his arm until the kid breaks into a wide smile, light laughter spilling from his lips as he nudges Bruce right back.

And this is okay, Bruce thinks. Tim’s not the same, and probably never will be, but he’s here, he’s okay and he’s at Bruce’s side, and that’s all that really matters.

anonymous asked:

53 andreil for the prompt thingy???

53: “Darling, stop.” 

They’re in the chilly fluorescent produce section, Neil steering the cart and Andrew catching it whenever he finds chocolate-covered berries or cartons of blended sugary juice to add to the pile. Neil’s got his old jersey conspicuously clashing with their new team’s red sweats, a dark bandana twisted up in his hair. It’s almost closing, and everything feels a bit cool and loose like no one’s really supposed to be awake.

When Neil’s busy bagging carrots Andrew gets his arms folded over the handle of the shopping cart, this stupid black t-shirt all stretched out at the neck, wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, mouth flat. Neil’s sort of fond of Andrew wearing his glasses in public, and he finds himself walking backwards in front of the cart as it’s pushed, openly watching him. Andrew picks the pace up just enough to bump heavily into his shins.

Neil smiles, looping his fingers through his end of the cart so they each have a side, rolling lopsidedly towards the opening of an aisle.

“Stop making things difficult.”

“Let me drive the cart.”

Andrew regards him, fair eyebrows raised. “You’re a control freak.”

Neil laughs, startled. “You let three people total drive your car. You wouldn’t even let Sir or King in our bed for the first three months we had them. You bartered for my secrets when we met, Andrew. ”

“And?” Andrew asks, examining a box of cake mix.

“I don’t think you should be talking about controlling personalities.”

Andrew ignores him, tossing the box in the cart and pushing it back towards Neil. “Go get your diet plan shit.”

Neil makes a face. “It’s our diet plan.”

“I am not willfully drinking skimmed milk.” Andrew crosses to the bags of jumbo marshmallows and Neil pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll put it in your hot chocolate.”

“You’ll die,” Andrew says simply.

Neil jostles the cart into Andrew’s side, and he drops the marshmallows back on the shelf, unimpressed. “Meet me at the front in five. I’m getting actual food to sustain actual people.”

Andrew shrugs and turns to wander out of the aisle, dragging the cart the wrong way behind him.

Neil coughs so he doesn’t laugh, senselessly thrilled. He jogs back towards the meat section, threading through coolers and displays until he finds the turkey bacon and lean chicken breasts that they live on. He’s frowning at an especially lifeless beige cut of fish when he’s wrenched around by the arm.

Keep reading

  • *a taxi*
  • Sherlock: *on his phone* Thank you for your help.
  • Molly: *smiles* Anything to stop you murdering Anderson.
  • Sherlock: *frowns* Nobody is that stupid by accident.
  • Molly: *rolls her eyes* Not everyone is lucky enough to be a genius consulting detective.
  • Sherlock: True. Still, I value your opinion above anyone else's.
  • Molly: *blushes* Oh. T-thanks.
  • -the cab stops outside 221B-
  • Sherlock: *puts his phone away* Coffee?
  • Molly: *hesitates* Oh, I- err, better not.
  • Sherlock: Why?
  • Molly: *glances at the driver, blushes; lowers her voice* Because you know as well as I do that every time I come into your flat, we end up having sex and we agreed not to do that anymore. Just friends.
  • Sherlock: *sighs* Well, we won't have sex. Simple.
  • Molly: *bites her lip* That didn't work last time.
  • Sherlock: We didn't have coffee last time.
  • Molly: *nods* Yeah, okay. Coffee, we can do that *chuckles* I mean...we can control ourselves.
  • Sherlock: *paying the driver* Exactly.
  • 30 MINUTES LATER
  • Sherlock & Molly: *lying in bed; gasping for air*
  • Molly: *sighs* Fuck 'friends'.
  • Sherlock: *smirks* Is that a statement or an idea?
  • Molly: *laughs* Yes.