i’d like to nominate “being a twink who gets physically picked up by a man and loses the ability to think for a few minutes” to become an officially recognized emotion
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@dolphishy
i’d like to nominate “being a twink who gets physically picked up by a man and loses the ability to think for a few minutes” to become an officially recognized emotion

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*help her kill
List of People who could use this:
-Trans women (cosplayers and non-cosplayers)
- Cis Women who feel too shy to actually show off their chest but still want to pull this off
- Cis women with small chests who also want to be true the characters.
- Pretty much any dude who wants to cosplay as a female character
- Anyone who wants to piss off Travis
Fuck Travis
These McElroy’s be out here putting out a funny funny goof goof live show while holding a knife behind their back waiting to strike with the next episode of amnesty
Rainy Thursday mornings.
Just stay in bed.
#pascalcampion

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For you and your internet friends! 💙
Feel free to send these to them but please do not repost
I must be an absolute fool but I never realised until now that the Stolen Century is the 7th arc of the Balance campaign, complementing the Seven Birds
Here There Be Gerblins - Lup, lost and found. The Phoenix Fire Gauntlet. Not knowing yourself well enough to mourn the destruction of a town or the loss of your sister. Just damage. A certain blue jeaned man. Coming home to your family again after all this time. Familiar but not too familiar
Murder on the Rockport Limited - Davenport. The Occulus Lens. Thinking a problem through, asking questions, playing tricks, creating doors out of nothing. Stepping up to responsibility and driving this goddamn train because there’s no one else! Relying on strangers who will eventually become your family.
Petals To The Metal - Merle Highchurch. The Gaia Sash. Antics. Hanging off an elevator platform with your entire ass hanging out. Knowing who you are. An abundance of alarming plants. A deep-running undercurrent of love and joy, invisible initially, pulling the whole story inexorably towards a happy ending. Starting to see the depth and wonder in something silly and irreverant
The Crystal Kingdom - Taako. The Philosopher’s Stone. Being clever. Picking red. Knowing things and not remembering why. Understanding the world. Not getting into suspicious elevators. Trapping handsome men in tentacles. Being selfish and selfless for the people you love.
The Eleventh Hour - Magnus Burnsides. The Temporal Chalice. Rustic hospitality. Asking a community for help and having help given freely. A constant underlying threat of harm to the people you love. Regret that cuts to the bone. A past that seems very present. Being kind to animals, no matter how dangerous
The Suffering Game - Barry Bluejeans. The Animus Bell. Being pushed to your very limit. Terror at losing the people you love. Resilience in the face of cyclical dread. Blind faith. Not pressing forsake. Looking for information, for your family, for the bell, for the woman you love. The promise of answers after far too long.
The Stolen Century - Lucretia. The Bulwark Staff. A family in a hundred years, a million little moments. Growing as a person, warping under pressure. Writing it all down. Having more skills and knowledge than most people earn in a lifetime. Dividing something that’s meant to be whole. A desire to protect, twisted into an instinct towards insulation. Writing stories into existence, and setting people along them. Mistakes and love in equal measure.
Story and Song - The Seven Birds. The Light of Creation, made whole. One family, reunited. The love that ties them all together, the love that flies a spaceship through the multiverse. Fighting back against loss and hopelessness. Forgiveness. New friends and family flooding home to help. Bonds tying you to the ground beneath your feet, to the arms that held your wife, to the world’s greatest detective, to a fish, to a goddamn taco. Not going anywhere. The happy ending you earned.
Obtaining an Abortion in a State That Has Banned It
Rule Number 1: take an at home pregnancy test, pay for it in CASH at the store
Rule Number 2: tell NO ONE. Not over text, phone, social media, or even in person. No trails.
Rule Number 3: Obtaining an abortion.
Option 1: There are online options to obtain an at home abortion if applicable through AIDACCESS.ORG and WOMENONWEB.ORG. Of course, do ensure that there is no trail and all evidence is destroyed just to be safe.
Option 2: take a vacation to another state. Plan to visit family, go camping, to a conference, to a museum or national park, etc. DONT EVER tell anyone anything else.
Rule Number 4: When obtaining the abortion at a doctors DO NOT sign any waivers. You will be safe if you don’t sign any waivers giving consent for even providers to communicate to other providers. Also, use cash as much as possible throughout the trip and for medical expenses.
Rule Number 5: HIPAA ensures that your information is federally protected. If the one and only person who knows you had an abortion leaks it, THEY will go to prison. Why? Because they violated HIPAA.
Doc Ock Fight Scene
Things I love:
“ I’m jUST tAKing the wHOLe thing !”
The REVEAL
“My friends actually call me Liv.”
Every time she says “Peter”
The yoga ball
Miles using his spider-stick to cling onto the computer
“We don’t need the monitor.”
Miles jump-slipping through the closing door
Yeets the bagel at a science man
Bagel is an onomatopoeia
Miles noises
The spiderman mask emote as he says “Intense life-threatening pressure”
Just the all background music, all of it.
The forest aesthetic, the birds chirping, the snow physics
Doc being extra just rips an entire tree in half
Miles being clutch but still keeping the tension up
“Thwip!” “and release!”
Guitar kicks in, y’all immediately know what’s up
She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll punch a scientist in the face
The entire movie
The tiny smile on Doc’s face when she realizes there is a third Spider and what that means, before she gets her ass kicked
The cute little shuffling as Gwen gets her feet in position on the branch
The whole fucking movie
i would like to point out that not only will next year be twenty mineteen, it will also be Minecraft’s 10 year anniversary and i, for one, will be popping the FATTEST bottles o’ enchanting
TODAY’S THE DAY
FUCK NOTCH

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ScreaMING
HERE’S THE THING THOUGH
I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click
And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”
So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is
“No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.”
I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:
“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security.”
I accidentally called the director of the FBI.
My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.
This is my new favourite story.
When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.
There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.
The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.
During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”
So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound.
I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.
So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…
“Uh… Is Shantavia there?”
It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.
There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.
The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.
Every time I try to find this story, I end up having to search google with a variety of terms that I’m sure have gotten me flagged by some watchlist, so I’m reblogging it again where I swear I’ve reblogged it before.
But none of these stories even come close to the best one of them all; a wrong number is how the NORAD Santa Tracker got started.
Seriously, this is legit.
In December 1955, Sears decided to run a Santa hotline. Here’s the ad they posted.
Only problem is, they misprinted the number. And the number they printed? It went straight through to fucking NORAD. This was in the middle of the Cold War, when early warning radar was the only thing keeping nuclear annihilation at bay. NORAD was the front line.
And it wasn’t just any number at NORAD. Oh no no no.
Terri remembers her dad had two phones on his desk, including a red one. “Only a four-star general at the Pentagon and my dad had the number,” she says.
“This was the ‘50s, this was the Cold War, and he would have been the first one to know if there was an attack on the United States,” Rick says.
The red phone rang one day in December 1955, and Shoup answered it, Pam says. “And then there was a small voice that just asked, ‘Is this Santa Claus?’ ”
His children remember Shoup as straight-laced and disciplined, and he was annoyed and upset by the call and thought it was a joke — but then, Terri says, the little voice started crying.
“And Dad realized that it wasn’t a joke,” her sister says. “So he talked to him, ho-ho-ho’d and asked if he had been a good boy and, ‘May I talk to your mother?’ And the mother got on and said, ‘You haven’t seen the paper yet? There’s a phone number to call Santa. It’s in the Sears ad.’ Dad looked it up, and there it was, his red phone number. And they had children calling one after another, so he put a couple of airmen on the phones to act like Santa Claus.”
“It got to be a big joke at the command center. You know, ‘The old man’s really flipped his lid this time. We’re answering Santa calls,’ ” Terri says.
And then, it got better.
“The airmen had this big glass board with the United States on it and Canada, and when airplanes would come in they would track them,” Pam says.
“And Christmas Eve of 1955, when Dad walked in, there was a drawing of a sleigh with eight reindeer coming over the North Pole,” Rick says.
“Dad said, ‘What is that?’ They say, ‘Colonel, we’re sorry. We were just making a joke. Do you want us to take that down?’ Dad looked at it for a while, and next thing you know, Dad had called the radio station and had said, ‘This is the commander at the Combat Alert Center, and we have an unidentified flying object. Why, it looks like a sleigh.’ Well, the radio stations would call him like every hour and say, ‘Where’s Santa now?’ ” Terri says.
For real.
“And later in life he got letters from all over the world, people saying, ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ for having, you know, this sense of humor. And in his 90s, he would carry those letters around with him in a briefcase that had a lock on it like it was top-secret information,” she says. “You know, he was an important guy, but this is the thing he’s known for.”
“Yeah,” Rick [his son] says, “it’s probably the thing he was proudest of, too.”
So yeah. I think that might be the best wrong number of all time.
Source: http://www.npr.org/2014/12/19/371647099/norads-santa-tracker-began-with-a-typo-and-a-good-sport
OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS.
I’ve seen the first post a bunch of times, but never the story of How The Santa Tracker Started.
an essential accessory for all occasions patreon
I can’t be the only one who has/had major crushes on all these dark/emo/goth and angsty characters!
turn on sound
This has a better three-act structure than some movies I’ve seen lately.
I appreciate this for being so over dramatic.

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guy fieri’s flagship show is all about him going to underappreciated family-owned restaurants, praising their work and bringing them nationwide positive attention and business. he openly supports lgbt people like his sister and frequently has gay chefs on his grocery games competition, including ones revolving around relationships and family. he donates all of the non-perishable food from grocery games to food banks and advocates for fighting hunger. he goes to parts of the country where natural disasters have hit and hosts big events where he cooks for and feeds the victims. he has a legitimately funny sense of humor on his shows and is generally said to be a really nice person. he loves his son and has done whole television specials about taking him along on trips having once-in-a-lifetime experiences together. he might look goofy but that man does things that nourish the SOUL and u cant put frosted spikes on THAT
please. please do yourself a favor and read this incredibly well-written and thrilling article, written by a woman who willfully sat in a TGI fridays for 14 hours, and ordered far too many mozzerella sticks, in order to see whether or not “endless appetizers” were truly endless.
i am not kidding you when i say that it is the best thing i’ve read in a long time.
It’s so damn well written please read this
reading this article lowered my quality of life and worsened my mental health and you should absolutely still read it