avrupasya

[avrupasya]

Idea where after Bingmei Vs Bingge extra, Bingge finds out that the 'kind Shizun' was the result of a qi deviation...

So he ends up taking Shen Jiu out of water prison and forcing qi deviations.

He is basically doing a qi deviation gacha everything hoping for kind shziun...

Eventually Shen Jiu dies and Shen Yuan is forced into body by system.

Shen Yuan waking up as scum villain....that's for some reason not in water prison... his limbs are intact... but he's pretty sure he sees scars and have these been reattached?

Then Luo Binghe is there smiling...happy and offering food and... What the fuck is happening? What is this plot? System the fuck?

Is this some new torture? Is he luring him into a false sense of security? What is Luo Binghe's plan here???

LBH:MY PLAN WORKED! YES! time to start planning wedding and coronation of my empress.

SY: internal screaming and confusion.

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when me and my boyfriend make meals we have a tradition of sending each other unappetising off-centre photographs of them in poor lighting. we call this "wikipedia food".

[avrupasya]

so i wore a pride flag pin to work the other day and the kids were all interested (obviously) (find me a classroom of preschoolers who are not obsessed with rainbows) (i'll wait) so they crowded around to see.

"aww!" they said, "it's a flag!!"

but the thing is: they're little. a lot of them don't really have a handle on all their mouth sounds yet.

such as, notably, that tricky tricky "L" sound.

[avrupasya]

My favorite kind of customer

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Another thing fandom needs to start doing more of is projecting on tops.

There are delicious amounts of psychological distress you can inflict on that guy once you get into his head. The brainworms of forcing agency and initiative on someone who genuinely is Not Fucking Ready For It are exquisite.

[avrupasya]

apparently my boss who is a professor at my school doesn’t have a cell phone and his coworkers were upset by this so they bought him a childs toy phone and labeled it “David’s jitterbug” (for those of you that don’t know jitterbugs are phones made for old people that have like massive buttons and shit) so the other day I walked into his office to ask him a question and he pressed a button on it which made it start loudly playing the ABCs and he said “excuse me I have to take this” and then started singing along to the ABCs while shooing me out of his office

[avrupasya]

Happy pride month to my dad. When I came out as bi to him, this man googled what it ment, look at me and said "ohh. Yeah. You get that from me. You'd have far more siblings of I only shaged women." And went right back to his work emails.

[avrupasya]

scurvy has got to have one of the biggest disease/treatment coolness gaps of all time. like yeah too much time at sea will afflict you with a curse where your body starts unraveling and old wounds come back to haunt you like vengeful ghosts. unless☝️you eat a lemon

[avrupasya]

If tomorrow I won the lottery or some elderly billionare relative died and left me their fortune and I had a massive pile of cash, I would immediately buy a lot someplace more habitable and then build a next level Art Nouveau castle.

I see billionaire mansions or luxury houses and they're all so fucking boring. What's even the point. You have all this money and everything is white and looks like a dentist's office waiting room? The fuck is wrong with you. Install a two story stained glass window. Live a little.

[avrupasya]

if you have ocs it is so so so important that you have Barbie Time™ (drawing them over and over wearing all sorts of different outfits)

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Penelope: Yeah, this shroud is taking me 20 years.

Suitors:

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Or as Strunk and White said in Elements of Style (to the best of my memory), "Feel free to ignore everything in this book rather than write something inelegant."

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can i matchmake you guys somehow?

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You can't just casually mention garlic cock man and not tell the story that's against the law

Are you sure you know what you’re asking of me? Are you sure? Well, okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. This post is long and contains description of genital injury.

So as you’ll know, I worked three and a half long, hilarious years at an NHS sexual health and contraception clinic. I loved that job, and packed it in because the Tory cuts to the service meant running it became hideously untenably stressful, but that’s a story for another time. 

One of my duties at the clinic was to take phone calls. Patients liked me on the phone because I have a nice voice and I’m basically completely unflappable, and they felt happy to tell me things. A vital skill in the wang biz.

One day, a man called. This was not unusual.  “Hello,” he said. “I need to see one of your nurses about my, er, my chap.”

“Righty-oh sir,” I said, “are you experiencing any symptoms that you’re concerned about? It’s just a yes or no kind of question.”

“Well,” he said, and I instantly felt a dark and terrible energy pulsate down the phone.  “Well… sort of. But, uh, it’s not symptoms of anything, it’s just…”

I would come to regret what I said next. “Is everything all right, sir?”

“Well.”  There was a pause. I heard fidgeting.  “I got a yeast infection.”

Phew, easy peasy. Yeasties are easy to fix. I sounded reassuring and buoyant. “Well that’s nothing to worry about, sir - if you don’t want to get anything over the counter from the chemist, we can-”

“No, no, that’s not the problem. Listen -” he sounded serious. “Listen, I’ll just tell you what’s the matter, and you’ll see what I mean.”

This is where, whenever I tell this story, I like to ask the listener to play a little game with me. The game is “Where Would You Tap Out?”  I’d have already tapped out by going to the chemist and getting some Canestan.

“I didn’t want any chemicals on my chap, so I decided to go for a home remedy.  Internet said garlic was good for yeast infections, and I’ve got a lot of garlic, so I figured that’d be all right.”

I made sympathetic noises.  Home remedies for yeast infections are normal, and garlic is actually quite effective.  “Oh good,” I said.

“I wasn’t sure how much to use, but I figured, I have a lot of garlic usually, so I minced a whole bulb.”

The dark energy wafting down the phone intensified.

“I packed it all over my, you know, knob, made a poultice.  Packed it all over the head, like a hat.  But, uh, I wasn’t sure how to keep it on..”

I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to scare him off by sounding judgemental.

“..so I just duct taped it all on. Wrapped duct tape all round it.”

Still with us?  Tapped out yet?

“So er, that worked, kept it on nice and tight, and I left it on over night.”

Over night. All night with your cock mummified in garlic paste like some sort of fiendish chicken kiev.

“But, uh, when I took it off the next morning, well… garlic is…”

“Caustic,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Garlic is caustic.”

“Yeah! Yeah, it is!” he said, sounding cheerful that I, too, understood the Way of Garlic.  “So I unwrapped my dick and, well, it looked kind of like… melted.”

I sat, silent, on the phone. Already I’d missed 6 other calls, watching them sail by on the other line while this saga unfolded. 

“So I figured,” he continued, the terrible juggernaut barrelling unstoppably through this phallic disaster, “I should probably exfoliate it.”

“Exfoliate,” I echoed weakly.

“Yeah,” said this abject human disaster, misinterpreting my echolalic expression of horror as hearty encouragement.  “So I had a look around the kitchen -” he was in the kitchen for all this “- for anything I could use and got my brillo pad-”

For anyone not in the UK, that’s what we call one of these:

I must have betrayed myself and given a gasp of horror at that point, because he quickly reassured me - “No, no, no, it’s okay - it was a new one!” before going on to describe scrubbing the affected area to remove the alkaline chemical burn that he’d inflicted on his poor, blameless cock.

“So you want to come in because of… this?” I said, assuming he would want a new dick by this point.

“Oh no, no -” he said, jovial again. “No, it’s all fine - it just, my knob’s gone all… well, it kind of looks camo print now.  I was wondering if you could do anything about it looking camo print.”

No, sir. No, neither we nor anyone else can do anything about your camo print garlic cock mistake.