Hello!
My name is Michaela. You can call me Mikki for short.
This is my rvb blog, so enjoy all the shitty art, pictures, posts, Fanfics and headcannons I have to offer.
Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/
Reblogged from agenderlocus  9,068 notes
ameerajas:

coutois:

dynastylnoire:

dulceetdecorus:

MISSING: 12-year-old boy from Montgomery County

WHEATON, Md. (WUSA9) — Montgomery County Police need your help locating a missing 12-year-old from Wheaton.
Rashad Williams, of the 3300 block of Hewitt Avenue has been missing since September 5th.
Williams is described as a black male, 4’8” tall and weighing 100 pounds. Williams has brown eyes and medium length brown hair worn in twists, police said.
Williams frequents the Aspen Hill/Layhill area of Wheaton, the Westfield Wheaton Mall and downtown Silver Spring, police said.
Anyone with information regarding the whereabouts of Rashad Williams is asked to call the Montgomery County Police Special Victims Investigative Division at 240-773-5300, or the police non-emergency number at 301-279-8000 (24-hour line). Callers may remain anonymous.


booooooooooooooooooooooooooooost

Boost!!!!!

Boost like shit I live in moco tf

ameerajas:

coutois:

dynastylnoire:

dulceetdecorus:

MISSING: 12-year-old boy from Montgomery County

WHEATON, Md. (WUSA9) — Montgomery County Police need your help locating a missing 12-year-old from Wheaton.

Rashad Williams, of the 3300 block of Hewitt Avenue has been missing since September 5th.

Williams is described as a black male, 4’8” tall and weighing 100 pounds. Williams has brown eyes and medium length brown hair worn in twists, police said.

Williams frequents the Aspen Hill/Layhill area of Wheaton, the Westfield Wheaton Mall and downtown Silver Spring, police said.

Anyone with information regarding the whereabouts of Rashad Williams is asked to call the Montgomery County Police Special Victims Investigative Division at 240-773-5300, or the police non-emergency number at 301-279-8000 (24-hour line). Callers may remain anonymous.

booooooooooooooooooooooooooooost

Boost!!!!!

Boost like shit I live in moco tf

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

Reblogged from alpha-mel  28 notes

A Grande Cafe Mocha

alpha-mel:

(with good news and a new pillow)

washington always gets his coffee a certain way and tucker is the barista who memorized the paragraph of instructions and writes you’re hot on the cup. and grif eats all the pastries in the back. and simmons is the delivery guy that grif seduces with his fucking amazing pastry skills. basically a shop owned by tucker and grif and they kill it

Still have no idea what the fuck these are called or why the fuck you guys read these.

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7

Read More

Reblogged from r3d5t0n3  419,967 notes

bellaruska:

leonkyuwata:

mayrlynray:

supermansadork:

thehuntingwinchester:

a-dash-of-hiddles:

allonsyimpala:

santiloveatthedisco:

kentromanoff:

That time Peter Parker was trained by Natasha Romanoff. 

It’s a spider thing

It’s a spider thing

Don’t you love how Peter can do it with his calves but Natasha has to use her inner thighs. This whole equality thing is great.

Thighs are stronger than calves, and you can get a tighter grip, as well as have a higher chance of breaking things. Peter was intending to disarm, Natasha was ready to kill. Natasha is a trained assassin, and Peter is a student who works for a newspaper.
Given their backgrounds and experiences, it would be UNequal to have Peter using skills and disarming tactics that Natasha was trained to do so.

So yes, this whole equality thing is great.

Owned

This post is brilliant.

also peter has bALLS OK you dont want to SLAM YOUR FUCKING TESTICLES into someons fucking SKULL 

Reblogging for last comment. Laughing for 3257865 years

Reblogged from north-and-theta  1,204 notes

whatthefuckistevvs:

saccharinescorpion:

lucifer-kit-kat:

I SAW THE BOOK OF LIFE AND GUESS WHAT 

image

THIS KID WASNT GENDERED LIKE AT ALL NO ONE SAID THEIR PRONOUNS 

GUESS WHO’S HEADCANNONLY AGENDER/NONBINARY NOW 

from the art book

image

sadly not named, but i think it’s interesting that Gutierrez went with a gender-neutral descriptor for them….

Reminder this kid was also like “LA MUERTE IS SOOO PRETTY” and almost inmediately went XIBALBA IS SOOO HANDSOME as well

Reblogged from north-and-theta  224,006 notes

thegadaboutgirl:

whowasntthere:

championofazura:

Girls, romanticize yourselves. You are a queen. You are a warrior. You are an enchantress. You are a mermaid. You are a goddess. You are all of these things and more, you are the stuff of fairytales. 

Women, traumatize others. You are a dragon. You are a wolf. You are a bump in the night. You are the last thing they see in the darkness. You are all of these things and more, you are the heart of their fucking nightmares.

image