Who’s Alex?

Billboard demonstrating gender stereotypes as most people automatically assume that Alex is the boy.

Actually, I’ve studied design and advertising, and I can tell you that the reason people would look at this and immediately assume Alex is the boy is because, quite simply, the boy is the focal point of the ad.

English-speaking readers’ line of sight goes from left to right and up to down. This ad leads the viewer from the words MEET ALEX etc straight to the boy and then over and down to the girl. I didn’t even notice there was a set of parenthesis with words in them in the ad until I looked the fourth time. 

This is a fallacious confirmation bias, as anyone looking at it will assume Alex is the focal point (i.e. The Boy) and then if they’re perceptive they’ll notice the words at the bottom. Aha! Those damn gender stereotypes gotcha again! Except no, because the ad literally forces you to read it as “Alex is the boy” by the visual language and lines of sight. 

A better ad would have been structured from top to bottom instead of left to right, and wouldn’t have pushed the girl, the real subject of the ad (who, by the way, has been VISUALLY PUSHED OUT OF HER RIGHTFUL SPACE ON THE AD BY HER BROTHER) off to the corner as far away from her identifiers as possible. 

Here, I’ll make you a better ad.


Bam. Shitty stock photo but you get the point. If anyone sees this and assumes Alex is the boy, they don’t have the the ad layout to use as an excuse for their internalized gender shittery. Likewise, the ad isn’t actively trying to make you read it a certain way and THEN making you feel guilty for interpreting it the way they designed it to be. 

Reblogged from love, hunt me down



So apparently there’s a sound that is 36 or so octaves below middle c that is so low that it kills you. The sound waves literally kill you. And this sound is only found in dark matter (for what we know). This is so cool

I love science

 (via djinnandddragons)

Reblogged from o alpha, my alpha


tell me you don’t love ian bohen

Reblogged from whiskey dick;


I was just thinking to myself how my favorite characters in various shows tend to have scars on their backs (Daryl, Simon, Jamie) except for Derek.

But then it hit me: if he hadn’t had the ability to heal, don’t you think he’d be covered in scars as well?

*quietly wipes away tears*



wolf playing in the snow

How majestic.

Reblogged from make betas not war
Reblogged from Love All, Judge None


baby arctic fox tries to eat a man alive

Reblogged from dylanolinski
Reblogged from The Frogman

georgiekinderman said: Hello! You're one of my favourite writers, especially your tumblr ficlets. I just lost my job :( Do you feel like writing some werecub fluff to cheer me up? Or bondage smut if you don't want to do kidfic. Thanks for being awesome on my dash!


[Oh noes, sorry about your job. Hope this helps the sting a little. AU where all werewolves can full-shift, just because…and some fluffy kidfic for you.]

"Don’t stray too far, Stiles," Claudia warns, ruffling Stiles’ hair.

"I’m going to explore!" Stiles says excitedly, running ahead on the trail. His parents are so slow, they’re so boring, just holding hands and talking to each other, taking forever… 

Stiles skips ahead, eagerly racing through the woods, bouncing over rocks and heading towards where he thinks he can hear a babbling stream. And sure enough he sees a happy little brook, water gurgling merrily. Stiles eagerly pulls off his shoes and socks, wading into the water. He builds a little dam, just because and is admiring his work when he hears a pitiful little howl. 

Stiles looks up, grabbing his socks and shoes, walking towards the direction of the sad noise, leaves crunching beneath his wet feet. “Hello? Puppy? Are you lost?” Stiles asks hesitantly. 

There’s a whimpering sound, and it sounds like the puppy is hurt. Stiles walks faster until he rounds a particularly thick bush and he sees the dog, caught in some sort of hunter’s trap. 

It looks more like a wolf, with dark fur and a long snout, but it’s small and all dogs are puppies to Stiles, and this one is hurt. It’s paw is caught, bleeding viciously as the dog whine and struggle to get it out.

"Hey, hey, I got you," Stiles says in what he hopes is a comforting tone. He reaches out a hand to pet the dog, and it’s head arches into his touch, wet nose cold on his palm. The dog licks at Stiles’ hand hesitantly. At least he seems friendly. 

The trap looks kind of sparkly, which is weird, but whatever. Stiles yanks on the edges of the trap, and it springs free. 

The puppy barks delightedly, leaping into Stiles’ arms, and Stiles hugs him, patting his soft fur. He gets licked in the face, and Stiles laughs, picking up the dog and scratching under his chin. 

In the distance Stiles can hear his dad call, “Stiles!? You still on the trail?” 

"Yeah, I’m across the stream!" Stiles yells back. "I found a lost puppy, and I love him and he’s going to be mine forever!"

The puppy huffs a little at this, like he thinks it’s funny, but he still licks happily at Stiles’ face all the same.

Stiles is still petting when he notices something weird. “Hey, buddy, wasn’t your paw bleeding?” 

The puppy squirms, jumping out of his arms and runs off. Wow, he really looks like a wolf cub with his tail like that… 

"What are you up to?" his dad asks, appearing behind him. 

"Aw, you guys scared the doggy away," Stiles says sadly.

"I’m sure you’ll see him again," Claudia says. 

Reblogged from yomikoda


Photographer Lassi Rautiainen recently captured the profound partnership between a she-wolf and a brown bear in the wilds of northern Finland. For days, he witnessed the strange pair meet every evening to share food after a hard day of hunting. No one knows when or how this relationship was formed, “but it is certain that by now each of them needs the other.” - Source

Reblogged from love, hunt me down
Talia Hale AU (In which Derek and Stiles sharing dreams comes to a conclusion.)
    |continuation to this and this|
Reblogged from Love All, Judge None


At least 89% of this is coyotequeens's fault.

PS: Don’t google Splorch in public.


When Stiles had received the email from the off-campus apartment administration saying they’d send someone from maintenance to fix his broken window, he’d pictured someone old and grouchy, with a tool belt hooked under their beer belly and the world’s worst case of plumber’s crack. Instead, what he gets is someone who would probably look better fitted on the front page of Vogue.

“Uh,” Stiles says intelligently, leaning his weight on his door.

“Stiles Stilinski? You reported a broken window?” the man says, glancing down at a handful of papers he’s holding.

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