when someone associates you with a character you really really love it’s like the best feeling in the world everyone go home
Sorry not sorry.
The men of tumblr unite. Because this is more than fighting the patriarchy, this is fighting for the voice of the people.
THE FUCK DID YOU SAY THE PATRIARCHY WAS UP TO?
I’M ON MY WAY.
Who is this how did you get this numb—THE PATRIARCHY IS DOING WHTA
SAVE SOME PATRIARCH BLOOD FOR US
3:01PM SYDNEY TIME
AW HELL NO
I’M COMIN YOU MOTHERFUCKERS I DON’T EVEN CARE IF THEY DON’T LET ME ON A PLANE
Fucking bro strider come out!! Omg HAHAHAAH I love theses guys
Meanwhile In England……
"Jolly great bit of Tea"
"THE PATRIARCHY DOING WHAT!?!!?!?!"
"Those Bloody Wankers!!!!!!"
"It Looks Like Tea Time Is Going To Have To Wait"
"It’s A Jolly Good Thing I kept My Old Equipment…."
"All Right Old Chaps, Im On My Way!!!"
I just reblogged this, but IT GOT BETTER.
Ladies and gentlemen, the British.
Fucking tally ho omggggg
Sorry it’s three days late, kirayaykimura. Happy birthday, anyway! And also I’m sorry for this hot mess of a ficlet. You deserve better, tbh.
Now on AO3.
In 2nd grade, Nicki Welch told Stiles Stilinski that his plaid shirt and Spiderman graphic tee looked stupid. He responded by looking pointedly at her stomach and saying that bloodsucking hookworms were inside about 700 million people.
She cried for two hours, and Ms. Briar made him go to the quiet chair. “One day, your mouth is really going to get you into trouble!” she’d scolded with a wagging finger.
Stiles contemplates those words as his dad’s new deputy hauls him into the station.
He’s still totally going to blame Scott for the situation, though.
“I see … an orange tabby in the window,” Stiles says, straining to hold his cellphone and adjust his binoculars at the same time. “Just a regular orange tabby.”
“But what does it look like?” Scott replies from his end of the line. “Does it have two distinct white patches on its belly?”
“It looks every other orange fucking tabby that has ever existed since the dawn of time,” Stiles snaps back. “And I can’t even see its belly. Now can I please be done with this?” Seriously, he’s been so swamped with course work, TA duties, and grad school applications that he hasn’t been home in nearly a year. He and Scott should’ve commenced bro-time the second he crossed Beacon County line, but instead? He’s creepily parked in an apartment complex and spying on some old broad because Scott is convinced she stole Allison’s cat. The things I do for love, he thinks bitterly.
“Yeah, I guess,” says Scott. “Pizza and Call of Duty sound good? And Allison’s making Nutter Butter Pie.”
“Aww honey, you shouldn’t have! I’ll be there in-“
The loud knocking on his car window startles the phone right out of Stiles’ grasp. And if he lets out a high pitched shriek, the only ones who hear it are himself, God, and …
The world’s hottest cop since the stripper he booked for Erica’s bachelorette party—the one currently frowning at him through the glass and gesturing for him to roll the window down. Stiles obliges not out of any concern but because dat beard. Jesus, when did his dad hire this guy? He would’ve been home a lot sooner.