(Source: cyclopentadiene, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
Youth: I think I’m [insert neurotype, sexual orientation, or gender expression].
Society: No you’re not. You’re too young to know that. You’re just going through a phase.
Adult: I think I’m [insert neurotype, sexual orientation, or gender expression].
Society: No you’re not. If you were, you would have known a long time ago.
THANK YOU
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
WAKE UP COUSIN
WE’RE GOING TO THE ZOO
(Source: endoshan, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
(Source: gond-wanaland, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
Source For more facts follow Ultrafacts
“Cole once hosted a party in which the attendees discovered that they all had the word "bottom” in their surname.“
This man is my hero.
He’s like a Monty Python character.
He paved the way for future trolls and I fear that most of us have not lived up to the standards he set.
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
#this is a coffeeshop au screaming to be brought into existence #i don’t care what fandom or what pairing #someone write it #and send it to me
Castiel could easily say that his brothers had finally lost it. It was normal for Gabriel and Balthazar to whistle at attractive men on the street, and then immediately point to Castiel as the source, but never have they taken it this far.
Perpetually socially awkward, Castiel had no idea how to initiate a conversation with someone without scaring them away, so he had built the reputation of being withdrawn. That wasn’t true. Castiel loved being around people, and maybe he, no, he most definitely, not that he’d ever admit it, wanted a girlfriend… or boyfriend… or just a partner in general.
The only people who knew this about Castiel were his maniac brothers, who did everything in their power to match Castiel up with someone. So, despite their little brother’s protests, they drew their new scheme on the special’s board at the coffeeshop where Castiel worked.
He tried to complain to his manager, but Crowley thought it was an excellent idea, and applauded Gabriel and Balthazar. Crowley didn’t actually care if Castiel got a nice partner or not, he just wanted more money. Everyone but Castiel knew how attractive he was, and by “giving those young customers the hope for a coffeeshop romance,” they could have better business.
So Castiel was dragged from his comfortable position of making drinks from behind the scenes, to being placed as barista for the day. In front of his register was the horrible board declaring
‘Today your barista is:
1. Hella fucking gay
2. Desperately single
For your drink today I recommend:
You give me your number.’
Castiel was certain, by two hours into his shift, that if it wasn’t his perpetual need to smile warmly at every customer, then it was that damn board that earned him so much attention. Most of it was creepy or unwarranted. Men from all shapes and sizes either sneered in disgust, or tried blatantly to get into Castiel’s pants. Very few girls attempted to flirt with him.
By the end of the day, Castiel was having a harder time keeping up a pleasant demeanor with all the overwhelming attention. His pocket was filled with at least thirteen crumpled papers of stranger’s numbers. Castiel wasn’t interested in any one of them, and was angry with his brothers and managers for forcing him into a position of playing with people’s emotions.
Castiel was relieved when the rush eased, and by five in the afternoon it was just the occasional customer needing a pick-me-up, or the regulars who recognized and still interacted pleasantly with him.
There was one regular, however, that had Castiel perking up to see.
The scruffy, freckled, green-eyed beauty that Castiel had been admiring for so long came up to the counter, and then glanced down at the board.
Castiel wanted to simultaneously hide under the counter, and also pray to every god that existed that maybe, just maybe, this would be the man to give him his number.
But instead, after reading the board, the man could not make eye-contact with Castiel and stiffly ordered his coffee and pastry. After paying for and receiving his purchase, the man picked the far corner of the place to sit. Without even a single glance at Castiel, he pulled out a book and cut off the rest of the world.
Castiel’s heart sank.
Dean. Castiel read the name on the man’s cup of coffee. He wanted to come up with some excuse, go over to Dean’s table, maybe say he needed to clean something up… and then what? Apologize for the offensive board? Make a fool of himself trying to flirt? Inevitably scare Dean off and face Crowley’s wrath for losing a customer?
As the other customers came in, Castiel’s smile wasn’t as genuine, and maybe the people noticed. Castiel didn’t receive any more numbers. He kept glancing over to Dean’s table though. The man was still nose deep in the book, but also looking very uncomfortable. Castiel felt humiliated and cruel, but he was too disappointed to find reason to be angry with his brothers.
Finally, half an hour later, Dean got up to throw his trash away. Castiel watched him solemnly, expecting it to be the last time he would ever see the man.
Dean stood by his table, his back to Castiel, for a seemingly horrible long time. But just when Castiel thought he was going to storm out of the shop, Dean turned and walked in straight line to Castiel’s register.
‘This is it,’ Castiel thought. ‘He’s going to tell me how disgusted he is by now, tell me he never wants to come back, never-‘
Dean thrust something at Castiel. The green eyes were still looking anywhere but to Castiel, yet Castiel noticed for the first time the spreading blush across Dean’s face.
Castiel hesitantly took the paper from Dean’s hand, and the second he had it, Dean turned about face and rushed out of the shop. He nearly tripped over a table in the process.
His heart thumping a mile a minute, Castiel unrumpled the paper and looked at it.
‘Hey, I think you look nice. Call me sometime. If you want.’ It said. Under the message and Dean’s signature was his number.
The next day, Castiel called up Gabriel and Balthazar. He was very happy to announce to his brothers exactly why they didn’t need to whistle at men on the street anymore.
He had a date with Dean Winchester that coming Saturday.
(via winjennster)
I would force a Jewish hospital to do an organ transplant if it meant saving a life.
I would force a Jehovah’s Witness hospital to do a blood transfusion if it meant saving a life.
I would force a Muslim hospital to house men and women together if it meant saving a life.
I would force a Catholic hospital to preform an abortion if it meant saving a life.Why? Because hospitals, places where you go when you are at your most vulnerable, cannot pick and choose what they do simply because ‘it goes against their faith.’ We jail Christian ‘Scientists’ for allowing their children to die.
There is a clear and defined line between keeping to religious tradition and saving a person from death. It’s not okay to let someone die or simply live a life of pain or insufficiency because ‘my god said no!’
Then go to a hospital that believes what you do? Who the fuck are you to force your agenda on anyone else when you pro choice arseholes are the ones who always shout “my body my rules” well if a religious group owns a hospital it’s “their hospital their rules” and you can go somewhere else for your abortions idiot.
Because typically EMTs have an obligation to take you to whichever hospital is geographically closer. And a hospital is full of doctors. Doctors who took oaths to treat patients, to give them the best quality care and help their patient. Who is the one who can tell them where it hurts or has physical presentation of what’s wrong.
Also, pretty sure they swear along with everything else,”I will not permit considerations of gender, race, religion, political affiliation, sexual orientation, nationality, or social standing to influence my duty of care.“
Notice that bit? How it says they can’t let their personal preferences interfere with whatever care their patient needs? It’s almost like going into the medical field - you can’t let your own personal beliefs influence how you treat patients. Now.. what’s a hospital? A great big building with a bunch of doctors. So, what’s that?
A building full of people who swore to not let anything get between treating patients and are. So, strip ‘em of their license and let them work at some building that doesn’t require such oaths. Like a McDonalds. ;)
(Source: freeoldglory, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
*drops food on floor*
germs: go get it! quick!
king germ: no.. we must wait 5 seconds.. it is the rule
my favorite thing about this post is that germs have apparently gained enough sentience to develop a form of monarchy
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
[video]
you know how much pressure there is on girls to be good at every video game they play, because if they fuck up once there’s going to be a heck of a lot of people saying how girls suck and how they shouldn’t play video games
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
