happy autism awareness day to all the girls who had “ friends” growing up who were actually bullying them . to the girls who always sat alone in the grass and wondered why nobody wanted to talk . to the girls who spoke to animals like they were listening . to the girls who created a little world in their room . to the girls who always felt ashamed for how deeply they love things and how passionately they enjoyed media . to the girls who covered their ears when they were overwhelmed by everything . to the girls who carrying a special thing around to feel safe . to the girls who never understood what they did wrong to feel so lonely . to the girls who were diagnosed later in life because they weren’t little boys who liked trains. you are so special and beautiful and you’re not worse for it, you love deeply and that is so wonderful please never try to push that down . I LOVE YOU !!!!!

Somehow I ended up as a girl who was diagnosed later in life despite the fact that I was a little boy who liked trains.

The thing about "friends" who were actually bullying them is a little too real.

The most envious I ever feel is when I stop for coffee before work and there’s a group of retired people sitting together laughing and gossiping and I want nothing more than to just be able to hang out with my friends in a coffee shop all morning instead of having to go to work :(

Reminds me of this one Starbucks I would stop by every now and then before work about 5-6 years ago where a group of like 3 or 4 dudes in their 60s would hang out. I would walk in and get my stuff because my short ass hates drive-thrus with a burning passion and every time, they'd be there sitting by the fireplace with their laptops and books chitchatting. They weren't particularly obnoxious or entitled or anything like. They genuinely seemed like a cool group of people who, I can only assume, were retired professionals and just really enjoyed each other's company. I don't miss that commute or job, but I do miss that particular Starbucks for that reason.

Me getting up in the morning like 

Hittin’ the keyboard like

Friends comin’ online like

DID YOu SEE tHE THINGg MY GOD

This is and always will be my favorite Tumblr post of all time.

I'm sick of internet negativity, so let's combat it: reblog this and saying something nice/pay a compliment to the prev in the tags.

scientist voice: today i will be a dick to this cricket 

The phrase “exposed to this spider torment” will haunt me

People in the notes have entirely misunderstood the point of this experiment and what it entails.

It’s not “proving that crickets can be traumatized”. It’s proving that *animals can genetically pass on the stress that a dangerous situation causes, and the offspring will instinctually respond to the same situation without ever having personally experienced it.*

And that’s a big deal for many things, including human psychology.

When Nazis invaded The Netherlands, local Dutch peoples were under extreme emotional and physical duress. The Nazi army took their food for the soldiers, starving the population. They patrolled the streets and harshly reinforced their new laws. Existence was horrible and some parents had to give their children away to wealthier families because they couldn’t feed them anymore. This event is known as the Hongerwinter, or Dutch Famine.

One generation later, the children of mothers who were pregnant at the time of the famine have been proven to exhibit intense reactions to stress, and heightened fight or flight responses. They also experience more obesity because their bodies are prepared for starvation.

Some of these children were never personally exposed to the famine. Their mothers gave birth after conditions had improved, or even after moving to another country. But the effects are there, and those people are now adults who can recognize this and attest that they didn’t experience something else traumatic during childhood. It was passed on in the womb.

You can read about it here: https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.nytimes.com/2018/01/31/science/dutch-famine-genes.amp.html

This is called epigenetics. It’s essential to understanding how the human brain and body works. That our responses to stress can be passed on genetically. That it can show up in how we look physically, our physical health, our mental responses, our instinctual reactions. It’s especially important for people who are in therapy and need to understand *why* they act a certain way before they can actually work on it.

So no, this experiment wasn’t “haha let’s torment a cricket”. I’m not going to argue the potential cruelty of the experiment with people. I just want you to understand what it actually all MEANS.

Reblogging for that last comment!

what album did you love at fourteen? mine is a hangover you don't deserve by bowling for soup

TBF, Grogu himself is a walking, talking safety hazard.

Throwback to when I took painkillers and woke up with Photoshop open on my computer to this image I had made

Hi this currently has 37 thousand notes and I just want to ask - why?

Big Things Are Coming

💷🥄🥔 BIG THINGS ARE COMING🥔🥄💷

✨ Abundance Spell✨ 

Wealth, weal, and plentiful spoons are coming to me 👏

✨💰🪙🥄🥔💰🌟💰🥄🥔🪙 💰✨

Like to charge Reblog to cast

This blog is pro tits and anti Nazi

on this blog, y'all (and I cannot stress this enough) means all

A map of Ancient Rome, depicts various sites of significance and the location of the Tiber River. Map published by Anness Publishing.

Note: This story was inspired by a suggestion from @porgsandpops. Hope you enjoy it.

Grogu had been sound asleep when the Razor Crest landed. Well, if you call something of sharp thump, a slide, and a crashing sound a landing. He had called it unfair, but that was mostly due to the fact that he had landed on the floor of cabin with a thump of his own. Now his head hurt. Normally his dad didn’t just crash the ship if he could possibly avoid it, so something bigger must have happened and the Mandalorian hadn’t thought to wake him up for it. Meany. 

Once he was on his feet, Grogu crossed the lower deck as quickly as he could and made his way up the ladder to the bridge. Fortunately his dad seemed to be all in one piece, but it was clear from the crack in the Razor Crest’s canopy that it wasn’t. It was also clear that wherever the ship had ‘landed’, it wasn’t Nevarro or Tatooine, or any planet Grogu had ever been on before. Weird.

Grogu touched his dad to make sure that he didn’t need any healing and was happy to find that Din Djarin was just cross. Annoyed. Angry even. And, a bit puzzled. He probably didn’t recognize where they were either. At least that made two of them. 

Grogu looking on as his dad, the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, starts taking off his armor and equipment. Photo by me.

Part Two of Grogu of Rome

Splash! 

Grogu dropped the armor he collected as his dad walked to the river’s edge and raced to follow him to the water. He was horrified. More splashing. A sound he’d never heard before. It was awful. Ignoring all the various rules and protocols that had established when, how, and why he would use the Force, Grogu held out one hand and pulled the Mandalorian out of the water. Only a couple dozen cubic meters of water came with him, along with the fish, weeds, rocks, and other detritus that found it’s way into any body of water. He didn’t care. His dad was safe now. 

“Hail! Which god-ling are you, that would interrupt a sweet and necessary swim?”

Huh? The booming voice of the man approaching him, soaking wet, sounded nothing like his dad. But it was his dad. This just didn’t make sense. But that didn’t matter. He had to answer.

“Grogu”.

Grogu and Din Djarin sitting on a pile of marble planks. They are both surrounded by the pieces of the Mandalorian's clothing and armor, while Grogu had activated the flame thrower on the Mandalorian's right vambrace. Photo by me. Figures by Hot Toys.

Note: Part 3 of Grogu in Rome.

Story concept suggested by @porgsandpops

Who in the heck was Justus Marcus Acacius? Why did his dad think he was that guy? Din Djarin wasn’t a person for watching vids, whether they were historical reenactments or plain fiction. He watched Diggle and Daggle, the Fish that fish, purely because Grogu watched it and even if he didn’t like fishing itself, he liked the show. The two hosts were funny. They were informative. They traveled the galaxy just like a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter. 

Now… well, now Grogu was going to have to keep a sharp eye on the human who had diligently searched through the abandoned armor until he found Din Djarin’s favorite knife and began to gut, skin, and fillet the collection of fish they had in order to cook them. At least he had covered himself with the Mandalorian’s cape/blanket. No point in having him catch cold along with having whatever sort of delirium he was currently in the clutches of. 

“I wish I had some spices with me. Even some salt would be welcome. Fish taste better when prepared with a few, gentle flavorings. I do not suppose that is something you have in your bag of tricks, Jedi?”

Din Djarin spoke in a very different voice than the one his dad used. It was commanding, but not loud. It was decisive, but not smug. This version of his dad would never say something like ‘I like those odds’ or ‘I can bring you in cold’. Weird.

Grogu shook his head. The only thing his real dad used to flavor food was Mandalorian hot sauce, the hotter the better. Grogu knew they didn’t have any in the Razor Crest because his dad had complained about it when they were in hyper space and he was making up a ration pack. 

Pedro Pascal in costume for the role of General Marcus Acacius for the movie Gladiator II. Image from behind the scenes still photos. Image depicts a Roman leader in white leather armor with gold embellishments, holding a glass goblet, while wearing a pair of modern eyewear.

Note: Part 4 of Grogu goes to Rome

“Vist Rome?”

Grogu had to ask. If this person had been in charge of something there, then maybe Grogu could verify his story. That was definitely something a Mandalorian bounty hunter would do before they jumped to a bunch of conclusions. Maybe his dad was just teasing him and doing a very convincing job of it. Somehow.

“You wish to see the city of my birth? Of course we may go there. I suppose I should dress, now that we have eaten. These clothes were made by the gods and I did not wish to show disrespect, but I needed to feel the water upon my skin. Tell me, has such a thing ever happened to you? Or do gods not need nature that way?”

Hmm. Was that a really question? Grogu felt like he was talking to a trained soldier and not some person who had finally woken up after a long, strange sleep. Of course, maybe Marcus was a trained solider. He talked about leading legions for Rome. Grogu just had no idea at all what a ‘legion’ was. What if they were bantha? Or eopie? Or scurriers? 

“Snow.”

Grogu said the first word that popped into his head when thinking about water and all the forms it can take. He was a good swimmer. He didn’t have to worry about flailing about and sinking like his dad. But he didn’t want to give Marcus any useful information. Given the temperature of the air and what Grogu could see and sense through the Force, the closest snow was hundreds of klicks away. 

“Snow? You are braver than me, my friend. It has been the downfall of many.”

Marcus smiled at him, but Grogu didn’t understand why. Was there something funny about snow that he didn’t understand? He just nodded his head and waited to see what the other man would do.

Din Djarin holding Grogu while they both watch an event out of frame. Desert/rocky background. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 2, The Passenger.

Note: This is part 5 of Grogu goes to Rome

Grogu wished, that of all the things he had access to right then, he’d thought to carry a repulsor disk around in his pocket. His dad never complained about the weight of the beskar armor and he was covered with the stuff. Grogu just had the roundel and the shirt and they barely seemed to weigh anything at all. So why did the helmet, hip pads, back shield, thigh pads, knee covers, boot covers, and that stinking cuirass with its belly extension weigh the same as a bantha? 

Plus he had the weapons in the bag which was way too big for him to wear the way Din Djarin had worn it across one shoulder and bouncing gently against his hip. If he weren’t a Jedi, he’d have probably given up. If he had been a full, pledged to the Creed Mandalorian, instead of the adopted son of one, he’d probably have put it all on or just returned to the Razor Crest.  Uff.

Instead he was walking along the side of a broad, nicely paved road. They were on the side because his companion didn’t think they should walk right on the road. There would be carts and riders and others using the road and he didn’t want to interfere with them. So far, Grogu had seen nothing of other people which seemed strange but was probably for the best. How was Marcus Acacius going to explain himself to his people or explain Grogu for that matter? 

Pedro Pascal as Din Djarin in The Mandalorian. Image from Season 2, Episode 7, The Believer. Image depicts a helmetless Din Djarin in an Imperial vehicle driver's armor.

Note: This is the final chapter of Grogu goes to Rome.

Marcus Acacius thought he had seen many wonders. Lived through many battles that should have ended him. Had given his life to honor an old friend and the love he felt toward the woman who gave him everything he ever dreamed of. As the arrows had sunk into his flesh, he knew that he had done all that he could to live his life as a Roman should. What puzzled him now was how had this come to pass? His return to Terra Mater. Breathing the air of his ancestors. Feeling the Tiber upon his skin as if he’d never left it all behind in the arena. Why had the gods chosen that moment to take interest in him?

And, if a god should take any interest in him, why the god of the Mandalorians? He’d never heard of them. He’d learned of the Celtic gods, many that there were. He’d heard tales of familiar Roman gods among the tribes and peoples of Gaul, but with their names changed to suit the people who told them. But no where had he ever heard the name ‘Mandalorian' or knew any of their tales, attributes or disguises. Was it solely because the small daemon had found him? 

Marcus did not think the creature that referred to itself as ‘Grogu Jedi’ was really a god. He wasn’t sure he actually believed in any god, as the wonders he had witnessed had all been performed by man or nature itself. Philosophers might argue that was one in the same, but he was a solider. A commander of legions. He had seen what men could do when they were motivated. That had been both wondrous and terrible at times.

Now here he was, floating down the Via Aurelia, holding the daemon and wondering if he was actually dead and that this was really the famous Charon taking him to his final rest. Would he find the peace and tranquility of a life lived with honor, or the pain of fields of punishment for daring to defy the Emperors? 

Perhaps a question for the daemon?

Did not expect you to write a 6 part fic based on a stupid crack idea I had, but I'm glad you did. Bravo!

it's still valentine's day in my timezone so HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

A crack crossover idea that’s so dumb that I have to put it into words

You should check out what @burnwater13 wrote here.