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heard: He’s just repeating what he’s heard black people say
heard: He’s just repeating what he’s heard black people say

He’s just repeating what he’s heard black people say

heard: feedmecookiesnow: not-the-blue: @fandomforoz art for @letsallsleepoverwork, who came up with the absolutely adorable idea of the hawkeyes braiding Bucky’s hair and painting his nails! thank you!!  I thought this was cute so I wrote a story for it. ** Practice on Me New York in August, Bucky thinks, is a special kind of hell. He’s laying on the floor of his apartment with the shades all drawn and a fan blasting directly on him. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers. His entire body is pressed to the cool hardwood of the floor. There’s a cold washcloth over his forehead. An iced water sitting next to him. And yet none of it is making a dent in the heat. It’s thick. It’s awful. It’s like breathing soup. “Definitely hell,” he says to the dark room. “One-hundred percent, Grade A, whole wheat hell.” His phone rings. Bucky cracks an eye open, then gropes around on the floor for it until he can stab at it. “What?” Clint’s voice echoes through the speaker. “Oooh, you sound angry. What’s wrong?” “I’m hot,” Bucky says. “My air conditioning is broke, and the guy can’t fix it until Friday.” “Oh god.” Clint sounds horrified. “That’s the worst thing I’ve heard today.” He pauses, and then says, “Well, second worst. My favorite taco guy was out of the spicy guacamole. I had to settle for regular.” “It must be hard being you,” Bucky says dryly, and Clint laughs. “Anyway. What do you want?” “I was going to ask if I could come over,” Clint says. “But I think now it would be better if you came to my place instead.” Keep reading
heard: feedmecookiesnow:
not-the-blue:
@fandomforoz art for @letsallsleepoverwork, who came up with the absolutely adorable idea of the hawkeyes braiding Bucky’s hair and painting his nails! thank you!! 
I thought this was cute so I wrote a story for it. 
**
Practice on Me
New York in August, Bucky thinks, is a special kind of hell. 
He’s laying on the floor of his apartment with the shades all drawn 
and a fan blasting directly on him. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers.
 His entire body is pressed to the cool hardwood of the floor. There’s a
 cold washcloth over his forehead. An iced water sitting next to him. 
And yet none of it is making a dent in the heat. It’s thick. It’s awful. It’s like breathing soup.
“Definitely hell,” he says to the dark room. “One-hundred percent, Grade A, whole wheat hell.”
His phone rings. Bucky cracks an eye open, then gropes around on the floor for it until he can stab at it. “What?”
Clint’s voice echoes through the speaker. “Oooh, you sound angry. What’s wrong?”
“I’m hot,” Bucky says. “My air conditioning is broke, and the guy can’t fix it until Friday.”
“Oh god.” Clint sounds horrified. “That’s the worst thing I’ve heard 
today.” He pauses, and then says, “Well, second worst. My favorite taco 
guy was out of the spicy guacamole. I had to settle for regular.”
“It must be hard being you,” Bucky says dryly, and Clint laughs. “Anyway. What do you want?”
“I was going to ask if I could come over,” Clint says. “But I think now it would be better if you came to my place instead.” Keep reading

feedmecookiesnow: not-the-blue: @fandomforoz art for @letsallsleepoverwork, who came up with the absolutely adorable idea of the hawkeyes...

heard: I would nut if I heard all of them talk at once. by -ELEVATE- MORE MEMES
heard: I would nut if I heard all of them talk at once. by -ELEVATE-
MORE MEMES

I would nut if I heard all of them talk at once. by -ELEVATE- MORE MEMES

heard: I would nut if I heard all of them talk at once.
heard: I would nut if I heard all of them talk at once.

I would nut if I heard all of them talk at once.

heard: And I never heard from her again.
heard: And I never heard from her again.

And I never heard from her again.

heard: Yes. You heard me right. I’ll take them all.
heard: Yes. You heard me right. I’ll take them all.

Yes. You heard me right. I’ll take them all.

heard: I dont mean to be mean but i heard Joey immediately when reading that bio
heard: I dont mean to be mean but i heard Joey immediately when reading that bio

I dont mean to be mean but i heard Joey immediately when reading that bio

heard: i’ve never heard a dog like… pronounce the word woof before
heard: i’ve never heard a dog like… pronounce the word woof before

i’ve never heard a dog like… pronounce the word woof before

heard: Latency? Never heard of it
heard: Latency? Never heard of it

Latency? Never heard of it

heard: That’s the most evilest thing I’ve ever heard
heard: That’s the most evilest thing I’ve ever heard

That’s the most evilest thing I’ve ever heard

heard: the-strongest-decoy: arcticfoxbear: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” @radioactivepeasant @themagdalenwriting @iusedtohaveanaccount “HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”
heard: the-strongest-decoy:
arcticfoxbear:

by-grace-of-god:

prolifeproliberty:

candiikismet:

gingersofficial:



Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. 



If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word.

He tells us more…
So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons.
Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni . 
Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later.
It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles.
I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️
Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms.
“And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y—
“And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home.
“Is [yet another friend]’s home?”
Update from the other night:
“Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is.
I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language.
Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?”
yep!
*runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”

@radioactivepeasant @themagdalenwriting @iusedtohaveanaccount


“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”

the-strongest-decoy: arcticfoxbear: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a...

heard: muchymozzarella: godtsol: - Don’t Woof… - Woof.. I’ve never heard a dog literally enunciate Woof before
heard: muchymozzarella:
godtsol:

- Don’t Woof…

- Woof..



I’ve never heard a dog literally enunciate Woof before

muchymozzarella: godtsol: - Don’t Woof… - Woof.. I’ve never heard a dog literally enunciate Woof before

heard: rifles: “That night, I heard her voice. On the telephone. From Kosovo. It was march 28th 1999. That night another voice has been rebelled inside of me, in my soul…” Vénera Kastrati
heard: rifles:


“That night, I heard her voice. On the telephone. From Kosovo. It was march 28th 1999. That night another voice has been rebelled inside of me, in my soul…”

Vénera Kastrati

rifles: “That night, I heard her voice. On the telephone. From Kosovo. It was march 28th 1999. That night another voice has been rebell...

heard: srsfunny: I heard the people on that huge landmass will eat anything, we should get them to do it
heard: srsfunny:

I heard the people on that huge landmass will eat anything, we should get them to do it

srsfunny: I heard the people on that huge landmass will eat anything, we should get them to do it

heard: It's been a minute since we last heard that "bird" is the word!#birds #funnybirds #cutebirds 3birdmemes #animalmemes #funnymemes #
heard: It's been a minute since we last heard that "bird" is the word!#birds #funnybirds #cutebirds 3birdmemes #animalmemes #funnymemes #

It's been a minute since we last heard that "bird" is the word!#birds #funnybirds #cutebirds 3birdmemes #animalmemes #funnymemes #

heard: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER
heard: cereusblue:
unnameablethings:


dragonsateyourtoast:

redporkpadthai:

dragonsateyourtoast:

otherwindow:

otherwindow:
This is how the golden age of piracy ended.
The first mermaid to get tattoos :)


“we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?”
“kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes.
“we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.”
“i know.”
x
“daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.”
her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her.
“daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor.
“don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing.
x
“father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?”
“your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.”
she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says.
x
“why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam.
“we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.”
she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family.
“it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.”
x
her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.”
the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass.
“why not?” the mermaid asks.
“he’ll win,” the first mate says.
the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks.
x
the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her.
“don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.”
x
the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape.
“let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.”
they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her.
she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings.
the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone.
x
she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea.
x
“you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her.
she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise.
“i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.”
the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. 
“we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either.
“i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time.
“guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.”
“without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?”
“i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?”
“of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.”
x
the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid.
“you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock.
the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy.
“they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.”
“and now?”
“they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?”
the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.”

She protects her family.

Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817
That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there!




HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER

cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the g...

heard: I’m pretty sure I heard police sirens in the back ground. (I’ll be 20 in June)
heard: I’m pretty sure I heard police sirens in the back ground. (I’ll be 20 in June)

I’m pretty sure I heard police sirens in the back ground. (I’ll be 20 in June)

heard: Feel like she’s probably heard this one
heard: Feel like she’s probably heard this one

Feel like she’s probably heard this one

heard: I heard she likes fast food
heard: I heard she likes fast food

I heard she likes fast food

heard: You’ve probably heard of responsive web design, but have you heard of “passive-aggressive” web design?
heard: You’ve probably heard of responsive web design, but have you heard of “passive-aggressive” web design?

You’ve probably heard of responsive web design, but have you heard of “passive-aggressive” web design?

heard: Henlo I hav heard my call (via: @ihugthepug)
heard: Henlo I hav heard my call (via: @ihugthepug)

Henlo I hav heard my call (via: @ihugthepug)

heard: I heard the people on that huge landmass will eat anything, we should get them to do it
heard: I heard the people on that huge landmass will eat anything, we should get them to do it

I heard the people on that huge landmass will eat anything, we should get them to do it

heard: prettyeyezciya: jess-curious: dynastylnoire: hugochillingsworth: onlyblackgirl: bruddabois: sobeitjay: catmasterfunk: thehighpriestofreverseracism: This is beautiful i will literally never not reblog this. do people really say that Yea I’ve heard people say that shit Yes, they say it all the time. http://instagram.com/miryamlumpini Here’s her account, her tattoos are so fantastic to look at. reblogging for the tattoo artists IG to be boosted I keep seeing this post and I’ve gotta speak up on it, because that isn’t a good example of color on dark skin.  I’m a tattoo artist, and I’ve had a bunch of clients come in saying they were told dark skin can’t take any color whatsoever, which is bullshit. The long and short of it is dark skin can take plenty of color, provided it isn’t too light. Tattoos look best when they’re fresh because the ink is still on the top layer of open skin. As the skin heals over the tattoo, the color gets less vibrant and defined. This is true of anybody of any skin tone. Tattoo pigments tend to act a lot like watercolor; they’re not terribly opaque in the skin, meaning that as that tattoo ages, the white will fade into patches of slightly lighter skin, and may disappear altogether, as will lighter colors like yellows and pinks. Many artists consider doing tattoos entirely or mostly in white ink to be irresponsible for that reason, and use white ink very sparingly to create small highlights, in places where even faded ink will add contrast. Notice how the yellow is all but gone on even the lightest skin, while the deeper reds have stayed. And that isn’t even factoring in sun exposure, how often the skin is submerged in water, friction, or how the skin in the area bends and flexes. I know extremely pale people who lost all the color in their tattoos in 5 years due to a variety of those factors; I’m pale as they come, and the yellow in my oldest tattoo is only 2 years old and already super faded.  Color that lasts a long time is darker and more saturated than the skin it’s in. See how the butterfly is still noticeably purple, and stands out in all the skin tones? Teals, yellows, pinks and whites photograph beautifully in dark skin, but ultimately don’t have longevity as tattoos. Dark skin, however, can still take reds, blues, greens, purples, and browns beautifully! The best way to make color vivid in any skin is to put it in a strong black outline; tattoos like the one below will look like bruises as they age, and the fading color doesn’t have structured black to contrast and frame it. Here’s some color on dark skin that will age well! The yellows in this tattoo are very saturated and framed in lots of solid black; even if they fade, the fish will stay nice and vibrant. Similarly, the white in this tattoo will definitely lighten, but the dark reds and blacks will hold the tattoo together very well. Tl;dr, have a solid black outline, make sure the colors you pick are darker/more saturated than your own skin, and don’t rely too heavily on white. These are basic tattoo principles that can and should be used when deciding on any tattoo, regardless of skintone. Hope it helps! Reblogging for the amazing fucking information I just received on tattoos
heard: prettyeyezciya:
jess-curious:

dynastylnoire:

hugochillingsworth:

onlyblackgirl:


bruddabois:


sobeitjay:


catmasterfunk:

thehighpriestofreverseracism:
This is beautiful

i will literally never not reblog this.

do people really say that


Yea I’ve heard people say that shit


Yes, they say it all the time.


http://instagram.com/miryamlumpini
Here’s her account, her tattoos are so fantastic to look at.

reblogging for the tattoo artists IG to be boosted

I keep seeing this post and I’ve gotta speak up on it, because that isn’t a good example of color on dark skin. 
I’m a tattoo artist, and I’ve had a bunch of clients come in saying they were told dark skin can’t take any color whatsoever, which is bullshit. The long and short of it is dark skin can take plenty of color, provided it isn’t too light.
Tattoos look best when they’re fresh because the ink is still on the top layer of open skin. As the skin heals over the tattoo, the color gets less vibrant and defined. This is true of anybody of any skin tone. Tattoo pigments tend to act a lot like watercolor; they’re not terribly opaque in the skin, meaning that as that tattoo ages, the white will fade into patches of slightly lighter skin, and may disappear altogether, as will lighter colors like yellows and pinks. Many artists consider doing tattoos entirely or mostly in white ink to be irresponsible for that reason, and use white ink very sparingly to create small highlights, in places where even faded ink will add contrast.

Notice how the yellow is all but gone on even the lightest skin, while the deeper reds have stayed. And that isn’t even factoring in sun exposure, how often the skin is submerged in water, friction, or how the skin in the area bends and flexes. I know extremely pale people who lost all the color in their tattoos in 5 years due to a variety of those factors; I’m pale as they come, and the yellow in my oldest tattoo is only 2 years old and already super faded. 
Color that lasts a long time is darker and more saturated than the skin it’s in.

See how the butterfly is still noticeably purple, and stands out in all the skin tones?
Teals, yellows, pinks and whites photograph beautifully in dark skin, but ultimately don’t have longevity as tattoos. Dark skin, however, can still take reds, blues, greens, purples, and browns beautifully! The best way to make color vivid in any skin is to put it in a strong black outline; tattoos like the one below will look like bruises as they age, and the fading color doesn’t have structured black to contrast and frame it.

Here’s some color on dark skin that will age well!
The yellows in this tattoo are very saturated and framed in lots of solid black; even if they fade, the fish will stay nice and vibrant.
Similarly, the white in this tattoo will definitely lighten, but the dark reds and blacks will hold the tattoo together very well.
Tl;dr, have a solid black outline, make sure the colors you pick are darker/more saturated than your own skin, and don’t rely too heavily on white. These are basic tattoo principles that can and should be used when deciding on any tattoo, regardless of skintone. Hope it helps!


Reblogging for the amazing fucking information I just received on tattoos

prettyeyezciya: jess-curious: dynastylnoire: hugochillingsworth: onlyblackgirl: bruddabois: sobeitjay: catmasterfunk: thehighpr...

heard: Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.
heard: Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.

Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.

heard: For all the stupid stuff I’ve seen and heard about the virus
heard: For all the stupid stuff I’ve seen and heard about the virus

For all the stupid stuff I’ve seen and heard about the virus

heard: Heard we’re all supposed to wear masks at the airport. I don’t really know how this is gonna help but my skin feels great
heard: Heard we’re all supposed to wear masks at the airport. I don’t really know how this is gonna help but my skin feels great

Heard we’re all supposed to wear masks at the airport. I don’t really know how this is gonna help but my skin feels great

heard: Probably the best quote I’ve heard
heard: Probably the best quote I’ve heard

Probably the best quote I’ve heard

heard: Ever heard of the dark ages?
heard: Ever heard of the dark ages?

Ever heard of the dark ages?

heard: my-pansexualmess: urbanfantasyinspiration: supreme-leader-stoat: mylifeisafairy-tale: satansbitontheside: bathedinflames: nerdyandyouknowit: cheerfulmetaphysics: tsamthepoet: I hardly see any heroic posts about Muslims on here, so here you go. I love that it takes the time to specify that his attack of choice was a flying kick The hero the world needs I remember this. But I feel we’re missing some key points. When it happened, he was out jogging with his puppy: He heard screams and sprinted towards them. He jumped a fence, saw a man pinning a woman down and immediately fly-kicked him in the face, knocking him out. He then gave the woman his jacket because her dress was ripped and got her a taxi home. She only managed to get in contact with him and tell the papers cause she later found his driver’s license in the pocket of the jacket. “If I see a person in danger then I will intervene. I would not want to ignore it and then read the next day that a woman had been raped or murdered.” And his message to the attacker: “He is a coward and a man with no morals. I won’t forget his face.” Glaswegians will always fly kick someone I swear. Good on him. Something else I love about this is that they’re calling the rapist a “beast” because that is an appropriate word to use for someone who would do something that horrible instead of showing him any form of sympathy or humanizing him What a lad proud of him
heard: my-pansexualmess:
urbanfantasyinspiration:

supreme-leader-stoat:


mylifeisafairy-tale:

satansbitontheside:

bathedinflames:

nerdyandyouknowit:

cheerfulmetaphysics:

tsamthepoet:

I hardly see any heroic posts about Muslims on here, so here you go.

I love that it takes the time to specify that his attack of choice was a flying kick

The hero the world needs

I remember this. But I feel we’re missing some key points. When it happened, he was out jogging with his puppy:

He heard screams and sprinted towards them. He jumped a fence, saw a man pinning a woman down and immediately fly-kicked him in the face, knocking him out. He then gave the woman his jacket because her dress was ripped and got her a taxi home. She only managed to get in contact with him and tell the papers cause she later found his driver’s license in the pocket of the jacket.
“If I see a person in danger then I will intervene. I would not want to ignore it and then read the next day that a woman had been raped or murdered.”
And his message to the attacker:
“He is a coward and a man with no morals. I won’t forget his face.”

Glaswegians will always fly kick someone I swear. Good on him.


Something else I love about this is that they’re calling the rapist a “beast” because that is an appropriate word to use for someone who would do something that horrible instead of showing him any form of sympathy or humanizing him 



What a lad

proud of him

my-pansexualmess: urbanfantasyinspiration: supreme-leader-stoat: mylifeisafairy-tale: satansbitontheside: bathedinflames: nerdyandy...

heard: pieprincess-andthe-fallenangel: westotanu: jeanjauthor: ao3commentoftheday: You’ve heard of lemons and the Citrus Scale? Well, what about KINKTOMATO? KINKTOMATO is an important concept in fandom. It’s a humourous re-spelling of YKINMKATO - Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That’s OK). This is the idea that if you don’t like a particular kink or ship etc, that’s fine but you don’t need to attack or shame the people who do. Just leave them alone to enjoy their fics and art in peace and ask that they do the same in return.  KINKTOMATO is the “you do you” of fandom. It’s the “whatever floats your boat” of leaving other people alone. It’s an easy and judgement-free way of hoping that your fellow fans enjoy their content as much as you enjoy yours and understanding that different folks like different strokes.  Having preferences is human. Having squicks is totally normal. Everyone has NOTPs or lines they don’t want to cross. But fandom is a large group of diverse people with varying tastes and interests and backgrounds. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Ship and let ship. Don’t like? Don’t read. Your kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.  This, writers. And yes, do bring back “squick” because if it makes you go “ew, ick” then that’s a squick, or a hard “uh no NOT for me” it’s a squick.  (Something that’s genuinely triggering will give you symptoms like hyperventillating, shaking hands, cold sweats, nausea, the feeling like you’re gonna faint, etc, but if it just makes you go “ew, ick” and scrunches your face in distaste, then that’s a squick, my friend.) just to add on - KINKTOMATO is not easy, which goes against the usual ‘it’s not hard to just hit the back button’ narrative but I’m gonna say it. most people think they can do this stuff just fine but usually what they’re considering as ‘things they don’t like’ are things they feel neutral about. ‘I’m not really fond of X but it doesn’t make me want to run for the hills if I see it in a fic’ is not ‘oh wow I really REALLY hate that’. it takes conscious effort to be fair about it. you have to resist the urge to be like ‘this is disgusting and I want to yell at someone for subjecting my poor eyeballs to this’. sometimes you gotta leave and do other things for a few days or even weeks just because you read the tags/summary on something and were like ‘oh god nope no ew ew ew’. nobody really enjoys practicing this type of self-discipline. it is sincerely unpleasant to encounter kinks you are repulsed/squicked by. there have been times when i was lax in reading through the tags or when i assumed a tag represented one kind of take on a thing but no actually it was another, way less appealing one, and it’s not a fun time to get that particular cold glass of water thrown onto your soul. be mature and fair about it anyway. resist the urge to be the fandom equivalent of those white suburban moms who yell at underpaid (or volunteer, in this case) cashiers and demand to speak to the manager. ignore the people who will try and appeal to you by telling you that your aversion is a result of some innate Goodness on your part and that people who make things you don’t like are Evil. And friendly reminder that both tumblr and AO3 have ways to filter out unwanted tags so that you can easily go about your day without seeing content for one of your squicks or notps. In fact, I find it good practice to do an AO3 search for all of my favourite ships, filtering out all tags and ships I don’t like, and then saving that page as a bookmark/favourite to make my future fic-browsing easier. That way, I never accidentally come across something that makes me squick. And whenever I come across another ship or tag that I hate, I add that into my ‘excluded tags’ list and resave it. It’s really simple and saves me a lot of pain and effort!
heard: pieprincess-andthe-fallenangel:

westotanu:

jeanjauthor:

ao3commentoftheday:

You’ve heard of lemons and the Citrus Scale? Well, what about KINKTOMATO?
KINKTOMATO is an important concept in fandom. It’s a humourous re-spelling of YKINMKATO - Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That’s OK). This is the idea that if you don’t like a particular kink or ship etc, that’s fine but you don’t need to attack or shame the people who do. Just leave them alone to enjoy their fics and art in peace and ask that they do the same in return. 
KINKTOMATO is the “you do you” of fandom. It’s the “whatever floats your boat” of leaving other people alone. It’s an easy and judgement-free way of hoping that your fellow fans enjoy their content as much as you enjoy yours and understanding that different folks like different strokes. 
Having preferences is human. Having squicks is totally normal. Everyone has NOTPs or lines they don’t want to cross. But fandom is a large group of diverse people with varying tastes and interests and backgrounds. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Ship and let ship. Don’t like? Don’t read. Your kink is not my kink, and that’s okay. 

This, writers.
And yes, do bring back “squick” because if it makes you go “ew, ick” then that’s a squick, or a hard “uh no NOT for me” it’s a squick.  (Something that’s genuinely triggering will give you symptoms like hyperventillating, shaking hands, cold sweats, nausea, the feeling like you’re gonna faint, etc, but if it just makes you go “ew, ick” and scrunches your face in distaste, then that’s a squick, my friend.)

just to add on - KINKTOMATO is not easy, which goes against the usual ‘it’s not hard to just hit the back button’ narrative but I’m gonna say it. most people think they can do this stuff just fine but usually what 
they’re considering as ‘things they don’t like’ are things they feel neutral about. ‘I’m not really 
fond of X but it doesn’t make me want to run for the hills if I 
see it in a fic’ is not ‘oh wow I really REALLY hate that’. it takes conscious effort to be fair about it. you have to resist the urge to be like ‘this is disgusting and I want to yell at someone for subjecting my poor eyeballs to this’. sometimes you gotta leave and do other things for a few days or even weeks just because you read the tags/summary on something and were like ‘oh god nope no ew ew ew’. 
nobody really enjoys practicing this type of self-discipline. it is sincerely unpleasant to encounter kinks you are repulsed/squicked by. there have been times when i was lax in reading through the tags or when i assumed a tag represented one kind of take on a thing but no actually it was another, way less appealing one, and it’s not a fun time to get that particular cold glass of water thrown onto your soul. 
be mature and fair about it anyway. resist the urge to be the fandom equivalent of those white suburban moms who yell at underpaid (or volunteer, in this case) cashiers and demand to speak to the manager. ignore the people who will try and appeal to you by telling you that your aversion is a result of some innate Goodness on your part and that people who make things you don’t like are Evil.



And friendly reminder that both tumblr and AO3 have ways to filter out unwanted tags so that you can easily go about your day without seeing content for one of your squicks or notps. In fact, I find it good practice to do an AO3 search for all of my favourite ships, filtering out all tags and ships I don’t like, and then saving that page as a bookmark/favourite to make my future fic-browsing easier. That way, I never accidentally come across something that makes me squick. And whenever I come across another ship or tag that I hate, I add that into my ‘excluded tags’ list and resave it.
It’s really simple and saves me a lot of pain and effort!

pieprincess-andthe-fallenangel: westotanu: jeanjauthor: ao3commentoftheday: You’ve heard of lemons and the Citrus Scale? Well, what a...

heard: why-animals-do-the-thing: actualaster: kidzbopdeathgrips: sydario: springcottage: thedragonwoodconservancy on ig laser gun gator boys oh my god i didn’t realize this video had audio Okay as adorable as this looks, I’m pretty sure that’s a distress sound?  A “mommy help me I’m scared come save me!” sound? @why-animals-do-the-thing This video is from Dragonwood Wildlife Conservancy, and they are yearling (last year’s babies) Cuban crocodiles. Good news for you, this isn’t actually a distress call! According to @kaijutegu​ (and her giant bookshelf full of reptile resources), the laser sounds are an affiliative social call that young Cuban crocodiles use to communicate with their parents. They normally stop making the noise at around two years old, which is approximately when they start dispersing from the family group. See, Cuban crocodiles are a super social species - and one of the few where the fathers stick around and provide paternal care for the babies! In the wild, babies would regularly interact with both parents, including when they provide food. This call is basically the type of vocalization that the babies use to communicated with their parents. These crocodiles are being hand-raised as part of a private-sector breeding and reintroduction program (because the parents are so protective of their offspring that if you left them the babies to raise, you’d never be able to safely get close to them), and so they’re responding to the guy in the video the same way because he’s constant known safe individual and also the provider of food. He’s not a threat - his presence is a good thing, and he’s worth interacting with because it normally means food. You can also tell from their behavior and body language that they’re not stressed: some of the crocodiles are actively climbing on him and interaction of their own volition, but the ones that aren’t don’t show any indicators of hyper-vigilance. If that were a distress call, every crocodile that heard it would be alert and on edge looking for the threat. Distress calls tend to only happen once or twice, because in the wild continuing to make noise makes a baby more vulnerable: so these crocodiles wouldn’t be continually vocalizing if they felt threatened. There’s no snapping or gaping or freezing, all of which would be behavioral indicators of distress or discomfort. (Here’s a video of a baby nile crocodile being harassed by photographers which will give you a visual reference for both freezing and gaping.) So, hey, this is certifiably cute - and good for conservation! Babus
heard: why-animals-do-the-thing:

actualaster:

kidzbopdeathgrips:

sydario:


springcottage:
thedragonwoodconservancy on ig

laser gun gator boys


oh my god i didn’t realize this video had audio

Okay as adorable as this looks, I’m pretty sure that’s a distress sound?  A “mommy help me I’m scared come save me!” sound?
@why-animals-do-the-thing

This video is from Dragonwood Wildlife Conservancy, and they are yearling (last year’s babies) Cuban crocodiles. Good news for you, this isn’t actually a distress call! According to @kaijutegu​ (and her giant bookshelf full of reptile resources), the laser sounds are an affiliative social call that young Cuban crocodiles use to communicate with their parents. They normally stop making the noise at around two years old, which is approximately when they start dispersing from the family group. 
See, Cuban crocodiles are a super social species - and one of the few where the fathers stick around and provide paternal care for the babies! In the wild, babies would regularly interact with both parents, including when they provide food. This call is basically the type of vocalization that the babies use to communicated with their parents. 
These crocodiles are being hand-raised as part of a private-sector breeding and reintroduction program (because the parents are so protective of their offspring that if you left them the babies to raise, you’d never be able to safely get close to them), and so they’re responding to the guy in the video the same way because he’s constant known safe individual and also the provider of food. He’s not a threat - his presence is a good thing, and he’s worth interacting with because it normally means food. You can also tell from their behavior and body language that they’re not stressed: some of the crocodiles are actively climbing on him and interaction of their own volition, but the ones that aren’t don’t show any indicators of hyper-vigilance. If that were a distress call, every crocodile that heard it would be alert and on edge looking for the threat. Distress calls tend to only happen once or twice, because in the wild continuing to make noise makes a baby more vulnerable: so these crocodiles wouldn’t be continually vocalizing if they felt threatened. There’s no snapping or gaping or freezing, all of which would be behavioral indicators of distress or discomfort. (Here’s a video of a baby nile crocodile being harassed by photographers which will give you a visual reference for both freezing and gaping.)
So, hey, this is certifiably cute - and good for conservation! 



Babus

why-animals-do-the-thing: actualaster: kidzbopdeathgrips: sydario: springcottage: thedragonwoodconservancy on ig laser gun gator bo...

heard: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”
heard: by-grace-of-god:
prolifeproliberty:

candiikismet:

gingersofficial:



Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. 



If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word.

He tells us more…
So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons.
Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni . 
Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later.
It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles.
I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️
Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms.
“And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y—
“And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home.
“Is [yet another friend]’s home?”
Update from the other night:
“Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is.
I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language.
Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?”
yep!
*runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”

by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is tell...

heard: earthsong9405: All done with Urbosa’s redesign and the additional sketches for her role in my headcanon! <: As usual I didn’t change too much but I gave her a slightly different hairstyle, some tusks (as is natural for Gerudo in my headcanon), and a brand new outfit! She has such lovely colors to work with, I love her so much ;-;But I’m sure ya don’t wanna hear me babble about how enjoyable her design is. So, let’s go straight into the headcanon! <:————————--Urbosa is the current chief of the Gerudo and serves as the acting Champion for them as well. As a Champion in this timeline, she holds a key component in gaining access to Old Hyrule-”Champion” in this timeline doesn’t fully hold the same function as it once did in BotW. Instead of being chosen to pilot the Divine Beasts, a Champion are a handful of chosen warriors that serve as Hyrule’s best line of defense against any threat. Despite every group of peoples having their own form of governing, culture, and way of life, all of them are still united under the banner of Hyrule, and the Champions could be the physical representation of this tight alliance. A Champion may not necessarily have a lot of political power by themselves but what they represent and what they stand for still puts them in a high position in social status and therefore their word often holds significant weight. As not only the chief of Gerudo but also their Champion, Urbosa is in a position of having more power than what would typically be seen for a Chief. Thankfully though, she doesn’t abuse it and leads her people well: there’s a reason she’s so well respected and loved among not only the Gerudo, but across Hyrule as well.-As one of the original Champions, Urbosa retains many of her memories from her past life, including what ultimately led to her death-I’ve always liked the idea of Urbosa being a motherly figure to just about anyone she meets, but that also includes being an actual mother! Her kid in this headcanon is Riju <:-While Urbosa isn’t actually related to Ganondorf, he refers to her as his “aunt”. Of all the Gerudo in his life, Urbosa was a consistent presence, often visiting him and his parents at their secluded home in the middle of Korok Forest. She’d bring stories of adventure and gifts and even helped train him to be a skilled warrior, but as much as she loves the boy her visits held an alternative motive.-As a whole, no one really knows of Ganondorf’s past as being the vessel for the Demon King, but if anyone would have any idea about it it’d certainly be the Sheikah and the Gerudo. As per tradition in their culture, a newborn Gerudo must be brought forth to a shaman for examination to ensure their health and to fully proclaim their citizenship as a new member of the tribe. When Ganondorf was examined, the first thing the shaman noticed was the peculiar mark upon his chest: a birthmark in the shape of the wound that struck Demise down all those thousands of years ago. In seeing the mark the shaman took the baby away from his mother and brought it to the council and Urbosa to discuss what to do with it.The Gerudo are intimately familiar with the history surrounding the Demon King and how he stole one of their own, so the mark was very telling of what the child once was. And given the long stretch of peace Hyrule was experiencing it understandably buzzed some fear among the elder council. Many were afraid his birth meant an end to that peace, that the Demon King had somehow reincarnated once more and meant to bring hell back to Hyrule.So in response to all of this, the elders argued amongst each other about a solution. Many ruled the boy too dangerous to allow him to grow older and demanded he be… dealt with. Others deemed that too cruel, even for a damned child, and suggested they simply leave him somewhere far away: let nature decide if he lives or dies. But, as chief and Gerudo Champion of Hyrule, it ultimately came down to Urbosa’s choice. She held the babe her council hissed demon, stared at the birthmark that marked him as a vessel, heard the pleading sobs of the boy’s mother over the whispers of “we’ll make it quick, but we mustn’t let him live”, “he is dangerous, he will bring doom to us all” “end it now while he is weak”.Stared at the supposed demon child, who simply yawned in her grasp and blinked up at her with innocent, yellow eyes. She met the Demon King once: she had stared into that monster’s eyes while she fought it to her death in her past lifetime. She knows soulless eyes when she sees them… and this baby didn’t have those eyes.So Urbosa made her decision: the boy will not die. It was largely met with disbelief and anger: you will doom us all! they said. Despite Urbosa staying firm in her decision, it took her days of arguing with the council and the aid of a Sheikah Seer (who examined the child themselves and confirmed that he didn’t house the Demon King) to finally reach a compromise: the boy will live, but he can’t live among the Gerudo. He had to live with his mother in exile, and his growth had to be monitored as a precaution. The monitoring came in the form of Urbosa’s frequent visits.-Urbosa is close friends with Zelda’s parents and is also something of an “aunt” figure to Zelda as well; Zelda absolutely adores Urbosa and even sees her as more of a secondary mother figure than anything.————————————Aaaaaaaaand that’s all I have for Urbosa for now! If I think of anything else I’ll be sure to add more, and of course if ya have questions you’re more than free to ask them. <: Otherwise I hope you enjoy! ^.^
heard: earthsong9405:

All done with Urbosa’s redesign and the additional sketches for her role in my headcanon! <: As usual I didn’t change too much but I gave her a slightly different hairstyle, some tusks (as is natural for Gerudo in my headcanon), and a brand new outfit! She has such lovely colors to work with, I love her so much ;-;But I’m sure ya don’t wanna hear me babble about how enjoyable her design is. So, let’s go straight into the headcanon! <:————————--Urbosa is the current chief of the Gerudo and serves as the acting Champion for them as well. As a Champion in this timeline, she holds a key component in gaining access to Old Hyrule-”Champion” in this timeline doesn’t fully hold the same function as it once did in BotW. Instead of being chosen to pilot the Divine Beasts, a Champion are a handful of chosen warriors that serve as Hyrule’s best line of defense against any threat. Despite every group of peoples having their own form of governing, culture, and way of life, all of them are still united under the banner of Hyrule, and the Champions could be the physical representation of this tight alliance. A Champion may not necessarily have a lot of political power by themselves but what they represent and what they stand for still puts them in a high position in social status and therefore their word often holds significant weight. As not only the chief of Gerudo but also their Champion, Urbosa is in a position of having more power than what would typically be seen for a Chief. Thankfully though, she doesn’t abuse it and leads her people well: there’s a reason she’s so well respected and loved among not only the Gerudo, but across Hyrule as well.-As one of the original Champions, Urbosa retains many of her memories from her past life, including what ultimately led to her death-I’ve always liked the idea of Urbosa being a motherly figure to just about anyone she meets, but that also includes being an actual mother! Her kid in this headcanon is Riju <:-While Urbosa isn’t actually related to Ganondorf, he refers to her as his “aunt”. Of all the Gerudo in his life, Urbosa was a consistent presence, often visiting him and his parents at their secluded home in the middle of Korok Forest. She’d bring stories of adventure and gifts and even helped train him to be a skilled warrior, but as much as she loves the boy her visits held an alternative motive.-As a whole, no one really knows of Ganondorf’s past as being the vessel for the Demon King, but if anyone would have any idea about it it’d certainly be the Sheikah and the Gerudo. As per tradition in their culture, a newborn Gerudo must be brought forth to a shaman for examination to ensure their health and to fully proclaim their citizenship as a new member of the tribe. When Ganondorf was examined, the first thing the shaman noticed was the peculiar mark upon his chest: a birthmark in the shape of the wound that struck Demise down all those thousands of years ago. In seeing the mark the shaman took the baby away from his mother and brought it to the council and Urbosa to discuss what to do with it.The Gerudo are intimately familiar with the history surrounding the Demon King and how he stole one of their own, so the mark was very telling of what the child once was. And given the long stretch of peace Hyrule was experiencing it understandably buzzed some fear among the elder council. Many were afraid his birth meant an end to that peace, that the Demon King had somehow reincarnated once more and meant to bring hell back to Hyrule.So in response to all of this, the elders argued amongst each other about a solution. Many ruled the boy too dangerous to allow him to grow older and demanded he be… dealt with. Others deemed that too cruel, even for a damned child, and suggested they simply leave him somewhere far away: let nature decide if he lives or dies. But, as chief and Gerudo Champion of Hyrule, it ultimately came down to Urbosa’s choice. She held the babe her council hissed demon, stared at the birthmark that marked him as a vessel, heard the pleading sobs of the boy’s mother over the whispers of “we’ll make it quick, but we mustn’t let him live”, “he is dangerous, he will bring doom to us all” “end it now while he is weak”.Stared at the supposed demon child, who simply yawned in her grasp and blinked up at her with innocent, yellow eyes. She met the Demon King once: she had stared into that monster’s eyes while she fought it to her death in her past lifetime. She knows soulless eyes when she sees them… and this baby didn’t have those eyes.So Urbosa made her decision: the boy will not die. It was largely met with disbelief and anger: you will doom us all! they said. Despite Urbosa staying firm in her decision, it took her days of arguing with the council and the aid of a Sheikah Seer (who examined the child themselves and confirmed that he didn’t house the Demon King) to finally reach a compromise: the boy will live, but he can’t live among the Gerudo. He had to live with his mother in exile, and his growth had to be monitored as a precaution. The monitoring came in the form of Urbosa’s frequent visits.-Urbosa is close friends with Zelda’s parents and is also something of an “aunt” figure to Zelda as well; Zelda absolutely adores Urbosa and even sees her as more of a secondary mother figure than anything.————————————Aaaaaaaaand that’s all I have for Urbosa for now! If I think of anything else I’ll be sure to add more, and of course if ya have questions you’re more than free to ask them. <: Otherwise I hope you enjoy! ^.^

earthsong9405: All done with Urbosa’s redesign and the additional sketches for her role in my headcanon! <: As usual I didn’t change too...

heard: you heard it here first, dezertt is funding medical school for everyone !!
heard: you heard it here first, dezertt is funding medical school for everyone !!

you heard it here first, dezertt is funding medical school for everyone !!

heard: my-pansexualmess: urbanfantasyinspiration: supreme-leader-stoat: mylifeisafairy-tale: satansbitontheside: bathedinflames: nerdyandyouknowit: cheerfulmetaphysics: tsamthepoet: I hardly see any heroic posts about Muslims on here, so here you go. I love that it takes the time to specify that his attack of choice was a flying kick The hero the world needs I remember this. But I feel we’re missing some key points. When it happened, he was out jogging with his puppy: He heard screams and sprinted towards them. He jumped a fence, saw a man pinning a woman down and immediately fly-kicked him in the face, knocking him out. He then gave the woman his jacket because her dress was ripped and got her a taxi home. She only managed to get in contact with him and tell the papers cause she later found his driver’s license in the pocket of the jacket. “If I see a person in danger then I will intervene. I would not want to ignore it and then read the next day that a woman had been raped or murdered.” And his message to the attacker: “He is a coward and a man with no morals. I won’t forget his face.” Glaswegians will always fly kick someone I swear. Good on him. Something else I love about this is that they’re calling the rapist a “beast” because that is an appropriate word to use for someone who would do something that horrible instead of showing him any form of sympathy or humanizing him What a lad proud of him
heard: my-pansexualmess:
urbanfantasyinspiration:

supreme-leader-stoat:


mylifeisafairy-tale:

satansbitontheside:

bathedinflames:

nerdyandyouknowit:

cheerfulmetaphysics:

tsamthepoet:

I hardly see any heroic posts about Muslims on here, so here you go.

I love that it takes the time to specify that his attack of choice was a flying kick

The hero the world needs

I remember this. But I feel we’re missing some key points. When it happened, he was out jogging with his puppy:

He heard screams and sprinted towards them. He jumped a fence, saw a man pinning a woman down and immediately fly-kicked him in the face, knocking him out. He then gave the woman his jacket because her dress was ripped and got her a taxi home. She only managed to get in contact with him and tell the papers cause she later found his driver’s license in the pocket of the jacket.
“If I see a person in danger then I will intervene. I would not want to ignore it and then read the next day that a woman had been raped or murdered.”
And his message to the attacker:
“He is a coward and a man with no morals. I won’t forget his face.”

Glaswegians will always fly kick someone I swear. Good on him.


Something else I love about this is that they’re calling the rapist a “beast” because that is an appropriate word to use for someone who would do something that horrible instead of showing him any form of sympathy or humanizing him 



What a lad

proud of him

my-pansexualmess: urbanfantasyinspiration: supreme-leader-stoat: mylifeisafairy-tale: satansbitontheside: bathedinflames: nerdyandy...

heard: [OC] Heard you wanted to be blown away…
heard: [OC] Heard you wanted to be blown away…

[OC] Heard you wanted to be blown away…

heard: Have you heard of that cool IDE?
heard: Have you heard of that cool IDE?

Have you heard of that cool IDE?

heard: Vaccines? Never heard of him. I use this essential oil from Thailand made from grass.
heard: Vaccines? Never heard of him. I use this essential oil from Thailand made from grass.

Vaccines? Never heard of him. I use this essential oil from Thailand made from grass.

heard: jayofolympus: valsore: silver-millennial: mandalorianreynolds: icantwritegood: 3hunnitcreditscore: chantosakura: cliomancer: bunjywunjy: rjzimmerman: From the Facebook pages of Project Coyote/Classic Cars USA: Last week on my way to work in the early morning, a coyote darted in front of my car and I hit it. I heard a crunch and believed I ran over and killed it. Upon stopping at a traffic light by my work, a construction woman notified me that there was in fact a coyote still embedded in my car. When I got out to look, this poor little guy was looking up and blinking at me. I notified Alberta fish and wildlife enforcement right away who came to rescue him. Miraculously, he was freed and had minimal injuries despite having hitched a ride from Airdrie to Calgary at highway speeds! Their biologist checked him over and gave him the good to go. They released him in Kananaskis. Clearly mother nature has other plans for this special little guy!-Georgie Knox FOOD CHAIN, BABYYYyYyy Plot-essential NPC. I’m dying at the fact that he looks only like…mildly perturbed and inconvenienced by this at most. “Well shit, this is not how I expected to spend my day” the coyote on the highway like I feel slightly bad for laughing so much… But, uh, luck of a Trickster God indeed; The roadrunner got away this time Anyone can accidentally hit an animal. But you FUCKING STOP TO CHECK ON IT. Maybe it´s not dead, Maybe it´s injured and needs help, maybe he´s suffering. What the fuck is wrong with people! Not funny, not funny at all. Sometimes it’s just not feasible to stop. If you’re on the highway or somewhere else where it would be dangerous to stop, then you just have to keep going and hope the animal is okay
heard: jayofolympus:
valsore:


silver-millennial:

mandalorianreynolds:


icantwritegood:

3hunnitcreditscore:

chantosakura:

cliomancer:

bunjywunjy:

rjzimmerman:

From the Facebook pages of Project Coyote/Classic Cars USA:
Last week on my way to work in the early morning, a coyote darted in front of my car and I hit it. I heard a crunch and believed I ran over and killed it. Upon stopping at a traffic light by my work, a construction woman notified me that there was in fact a coyote still embedded in my car. When I got out to look, this poor little guy was looking up and blinking at me. I notified Alberta fish and wildlife enforcement right away who came to rescue him. Miraculously, he was freed and had minimal injuries despite having hitched a ride from Airdrie to Calgary at highway speeds! Their biologist checked him over and gave him the good to go. They released him in Kananaskis. Clearly mother nature has other plans for this special little guy!-Georgie Knox

FOOD CHAIN, BABYYYyYyy

Plot-essential NPC.


I’m dying at the fact that he looks only like…mildly perturbed and inconvenienced by this at most.



“Well shit, this is not how I expected to spend my day”

the coyote on the highway like



I feel slightly bad for laughing so much…
But, uh, luck of a Trickster God indeed;



The roadrunner got away this time

Anyone can accidentally hit an animal. But you FUCKING STOP TO CHECK ON IT. Maybe it´s not dead, Maybe it´s injured and needs help, maybe he´s suffering. What the fuck is wrong with people! Not funny, not funny at all.



Sometimes it’s just not feasible to stop. If you’re on the highway or somewhere else where it would be dangerous to stop, then you just have to keep going and hope the animal is okay

jayofolympus: valsore: silver-millennial: mandalorianreynolds: icantwritegood: 3hunnitcreditscore: chantosakura: cliomancer: bun...