{ wear }
Dad made his son a hand with a 3D printer for $10 instead of paying tens of thousands for a prosthetic.
CAPITALISM BITCHES!
Can we just talk about the thing that dylan o’brien does where he drags his face up when he kisses all open mouth and GASFNHDKJfabnldgkjnaeldgrkndkndklfgvnjdlfk
“Okay, so I’ll just,” Derek muttered, shoving his belt through his beltloops, looking down. Stiles rolled over and looked at him; the sweat was still cooling on the back of his neck, his knees pleasantly loose from orgasm, but Derek looked—not pleasantly loose.
“Okay,” Stiles said cautiously. Derek bent and picked up his shirt, the muscles in his forearm bunching, knuckles white.
“Was there—” Derek’s eyes snapped up to his, pale and blank, and Stiles had to force himself to keep talking, “did I do something you didn’t like?” He’d seemed like he’d liked it, smiling up at Stiles, expectant, when Stiles slid down on top of him, let their legs tangle together, knees knocking, the hot little catch in his throat, later, when Stiles said, “You want me to?” and Derek said yes, shuddering.
“Nope,” Derek said.
“See, now you’re mad,” Stiles said, sitting up, angry himself, at Derek, for fucking everything up, for getting dressed when Stiles had wanted him to stay, to wear Stiles’ purple bathrobe and eat cereal, sitting on the kitchen table, robe splitting open over the knob of his knee, at himself, for making Derek look like that.
“It doesn’t matter,” Derek said, finally, and Stiles saw it then, Derek’s eyes widening in dismay when he realized what he’d done. “I mean, it’s not—there isn’t—”
“We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way,” Stiles said, and Derek just folded like a house of cards, shoulders hunching in defeat, like he’d known Stiles for eight years and had stopped being able to lie to him five years ago, had stopped trying three years ago, had started—doing other things, hanging out on his couch, talking a little, up late, eyes sleepy and content, turned into someone Stiles wanted to tell things to.
“I just—thought you were going to kiss me, that’s all,” Derek said, in a tumbling rush. He looked embarrassed.
“What?” Stiles said. “I kissed you!” They’d kissed inside the door, Derek’s hands on his face, in bed, Stiles dragging his mouth against Derek’s tattoo, the hot arc of his shoulder, the heavy deliberate curve of the small of his back.
“Yeah, but—” Derek shrugged.
“But?”
“You didn’t do the thing,” Derek said.
“The—”
“Your thing!” Derek said, making a vehement, incomprehensible gesture. “Your move! With—the—your face.”
“That’s, what?” Stiles said. “I don’t have a move. I don’t—how would you even know if I have a move?”
Derek rolled his eyes.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Stiles huffed. He stood up and dragged on his jeans, awkwardly, hopping on one foot, thinking this whole thing had been a huge, stupid mista—
“Look, it’s just this thing you do with girls when you really want them to think you’re sexy or whatever, or get them all—”
“I don’t have a move!” Stiles said, “and if I did, it wouldn’t be—”
“I’ve watched you kiss a lot of girls,” Derek said flatly. “You have a move. I guess you just didn’t—” his shoulders shoved up, a half shrug. “think that I was—”
“What, good enough for the move?” Stiles said incredulously, but Derek nodded, and put his shirt back on, picked up his shoes, like he was leaving, “wait, are you—leaving?”
“I think—yeah,” Derek said. “I should go.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, I’ll do the move,” Stiles said, reaching out and grabbing one of the shoes out of his hands. “I mean, I’ll do all the moves, I’ll do any move you want, I’ll—please don’t go.”
Derek hesitated. Stiles took the other shoe, dropped them both on the other side of his desk.
“You don’t have to,” Derek said.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles said. Derek’s eyes flicked down over his chest, his still unbuttoned jeans, back up to his face, eyes going a little dark. “C’mere,” Stiles said.
GUH
society: oh you have your period? well you have two options.
woman: okay.
society: you can use sanitary pads, which make you feel like you are wearing a diaper, and have the added fun benefit of being extremely uncomfortable and give you the extreme paranoia that they will not be enough coverage and at any moment with any movement or sudden sneeze you’ll bleed over onto your clothes and walk around all day with blood stained trousers while everyone points and laughs at you.
woman: sounds awful. what’s my second option.
society: a penis shaped wad of cotton that you shove uncomfortably inside yourself and it catches the blood before it leaves your body.
woman: still seems pretty awful.
society: wait! it gets better! there’s the outside chance that using those will kill you!
woman: well, are they at least free? like how men can have access to free condoms? i mean, it’s not like i’m choosing for this to happen.
society: HAHAHA! that’s funny. no, you have to pay for them. and they’re really fucking expensive.
woman:
society: oh, and if you tell anyone that you ARE on your period, your judgement, opinions, and reactions are going to be dismissed as the crazy ramblings of a lunatic.
woman:
society:
woman: i think i’ll go with my third option.
society:
woman:
society: what third option?
woman: i think i’ll bleed on everything you love.
And that’s why I use a Diva cup! Only $20, reusable, safe, comfortable, and it’s good for the environment too!
I think you wrote it wrong.
For the people saying Glee wasn’t endorsing/excusing what they made Tina do. They aren’t starting a conversation. They aren’t “exploring teen sexual assault.” Because they don’t even get that it’s a problem — evidenced by the folks now excusing the act. They made Blaine apologize for the love of god. Just like they made Kurt apologize to Karofsky after he stalked him, got mad that he didn’t reciprocate, and then attempted suicide (also presented without a trigger warning). Being a “dark comedy” doesn’t excuse this crap because ASSAULT ISN’T FUNNY OR DARK COMEDY MATERIAL especially in our rape apologist culture where there are already too many “jokes” flying around about rape and what people are allowed to do to othe people’s bodies. Glee isn’t subtle. When they wanna teach you a lesson, they beat you over the head with it. They are inadvertently teaching twisted notions of what is okay or excusable when you have a crush, because they don’t get that this is wrong. People need to stop excusing their crap and pretending they are the only ones who are smart enough to get Glee’s “brilliant and nuanced” story telling when in fact they are the few who refuse to get it. Meta the fuck out of whatever else you want, but don’t use your faux intellectual fellatio to excuse this kind of blatant irresponsible story telling that will no doubt lead to even more problematic ideas in the minds of our youth!
That was a bad hat decision. It needs to be like 50% smaller.
Joss Whedon is a fucking genius and here’s why.
HE’S A GODDAMN ANGEL FROM HEAVEN.
25% off this weekend.
50% off when you enter “pandora8”
I just got a $50 item for $15 and I can’t not pass that on, okay
plus free stuff too
I FUCKING LOVE YOU.
In other news Tantus also has a sale on Purple items. 20% off with the code PURPLEPASSION
SEX TOYS FOR ALL!!!
Just in case you ever decide to play D&D.
I do play D&D and my character is a Fey Corgi Barbarian.
oh my god
I love corgi’s but this is an abomination.
:/
omg this is a real thing
media bias hurts heteros
um. Taylor Lautner isn’t gay, right?
Being Alive (Glee Cast Version)
Gangnam Style (Glee Cast Version)
UNCONTROLLABLE LAUGHTER
Oldest American Ren Faire hires first female jouster Virginia Hankins. Because she’s awesome.
What a majestic human being this is.
Wow.
wOW.
WOWe.
She’s Merida grown up, aND NOBODY CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.
Wow, now this is a knight in shining armour I wouldn’t mind sweeping me away.
