when you have a mercy on your team pls:

emeralddrop:

-fucking protect her
-she is ur light and savior u pieces of shit
-her pistol does like 10 damages she’ll only use that when she has to
-or when people are ignoring the fucking turret sitting in front of them
-or if they’re like me I’ll be 1v1ing their roadhog bc my fucking team up and ditched me
-I’m not joking, I’ve had to 1v1 a Reinhardt, zarya, d.va, roadhog and more and then 1v2 a tracer and Ana. please don’t make us do this.
-I mean I can 1v1 as mercy p easy but still guys PROTECT YOUR MERCYS
-she literally has call outs for when she’s being attacked, fucking help her
-don’t take the health packs when she’s healing u unless you’re really low as a tank u piece of crap
-odds are she’s probably just as low as you aND SHE CANT HEAL HERSELF AS QUICKLY AS SHE CAN HEAL U
-if she’s stuck in zarya’s ult and you’re not, try to stick yourself out there so she can jUMP TO YOU U LITTLE SHITS (the amount of times people haven’t done this kills me and we lose the game bc I couldn’t get out and fucking rezz.) pls guys
-same goes for literally any other ult bc she will literally bless ur soul
-@ that one soldier 76 from yesterday, I love you
-don’t be the asshole that spams the healing; mercy players will get extremely annoyed and start healing you last or even not at all out of spite
-trust me, I’ve done it before and ended up blocking them afterwards
-DONT EVER LEAVE HER ALONE I SWEAR TO GOD the amount of times I’ve been alone and everyone kills me
-if she falls off the edge of a map, for tHE LOVE OF GOD STAND ON THE EDGE SO SHE CAN JUMP BACK UP THX
-if u fucking leave mercy alone as a mei or reaper and u go invulnerable when u could’ve saved mercy’s ass u can bet that I’m going to kiLL YOU MYSELF
-when genji ULTS, he’s more than likely to focus the mercy. PROTECT YOUR MERCY U PIECES OF CRAP.
-the same goes for Winston! I hate WINSTONS
-when mercy heals u, this doesn’t mean to tank all damage. okay? pls don’t. my healing can only keep up with so much.
-on the other hand, it’s okay if you’re trying to help mercy build up her ult as long as you’re really careful
-fuck u at bastions/pharahs/Hanzo’s, we aren’t your fucking servants
-@roadhog mains: S T O P SELF HEALING. Unless we’re in a tight situation, pls let mercy build her ult off of you
-@winston mains: when you jump back from fucking around, our main priority is healing the squishies, so chill for a minute before we can get to you
-@reinhardt: PLS KEEP YOUR FUCKING SHIELD UP THX AN D STOP CHARGING IN YOURE LEAVING MERCY BEHIND
-@torbjorns: armor pACKS FOR MERCY PLEASE. I remember this one game where the torb just kept feeding me armor packs and that’s literally the only thing that kept me alive.
-if there’s ever a living bane for mercy players that isn’t tracer or genji or Winston, it’s probably the snipers. GET RID OF THE SNIPERS. especially for actively moving mercy players like me who fly around all over the place to heal everyone, we need to be sure that we can continue to do that without being sniped out of the air
-honest to god, a relatively okay widow is a huge cockblock in my healing
-when reinhardts ult, the mercy player is probably accepting their fate, pls save us

as a mercy main, I just feel like this should be common sense. I know I’ve probably missed some points but I think this should cover most of it

(Source: maenji)

helly-watermelonsmellinfellon:

underorange:

lacqueluster:

jaggedhorseteeth:

skeletalroses:

So this is a totally useless rant, but as a skinny girl, I’m getting extra, extra tired of fat-shaming.

I work for a corsetier at a Renaissance Faire. We sell corsets. Not flimsy bullshit costume corsets; like real, durable, waist-training corsets. Today a woman came in with her boyfriend, so I helped her pick out a corset and try it on. While her boyfriend—who was decidedly enthused about the whole corset thing—sat watching me lace her in, he told me, grinning, “Of all the good jobs at the Renaissance Faire, I think you have the best.”

I shrugged in agreement. “I touch butts and reach down cleavage all day; I mean…” Because we like to be a bit rakish at the Faire, and, y’know, it’s true. Tying people into corsets pretty much invariably requires getting handsy.

The couple laughed at that, and the boyfriend said, “That’s the job I would want!” But then he chuckled again and said, offhand, “Or maybe not; while we were looking at the racks, there were some pretty big sizes on there!”

Our sizes are all done in inches, and the biggest we make is a 46. And you’d better believe our large sizes sell. For a second I wasn’t sure what to say to the guy’s comment, but I answered him casually. “We get a lot of beautiful big ladies in here.” Because we do. “We make corsets for real women, not Barbie dolls,” I added. Wasn’t trying to be smart, just kind of tossed it out there because that’s the line we like to use when people ask about larger sizes, and because, again, we do.

The boyfriend went quiet at that; I didn’t think anything of it, I just kept on lacing. A moment later, he said, a little awkwardly (but sincerely enough), “Didn’t mean to be offensive.”

I quickly smiled and brushed it off, said he wasn’t, said I was just saying. (Don’t want to make the customers uncomfortable, you know?) And that was the end of it. His comment had rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t a big deal. Now, I wear a 20-inch corset. I’m a few cup sizes short of being one of the Barbie dolls. Like his girlfriend, I’m one of the “hot chicks”; he doesn’t have to worry about offending me by implying that I wouldn’t be fun to poke and pull at.

Honestly though, of all the people I fit sexy technically-undergarments to in a day, fat girls are maybe my favorite people to lace up. Because they are just so damn happy that we have stuff that fits them. They are so damn happy that the corsets we make in their sizes are all the same pretty, shiny colors and cool flower/dragon/skull/etc. prints that the smaller corsets are, not ugly beige and boring “granny” colors. They are so goddamn happy that at least one (of several on the grounds) corset shop carries things that they can wear, that they actually want to wear, and that they look fucking awesome in. This is only my second season working, and we’ve fit 60+ inch waists and double-K busts. The only people we’ve ever had to tell sorry, we don’t have anything that fits them, are twelve-year-old kids.

It’s half-wonderful, half-heartbreaking how excited those women get. Women who say with sad smiles, when we ask if they want to get fitted, “Oh, no, you don’t have anything that fits me,” and then are stunned when we’re 300% confident that yes we do, and we have options. Women who can’t stop smiling and looking at themselves in the mirror after we’ve got them laced in.

I had a lady last week whose waist I measured (cinching the tape tight, as per procedure) at 41 inches—honestly not all that big. So she picked out a 41-inch corset to try on. I could tell halfway through getting her laced that it was going to be a bit big for her, so I mentioned it and said she might do better to try a smaller size. She started crying on the spot. She was so overwhelmed; she couldn’t believe someone had just told her that a 41 was too big. She told me about how hard clothes shopping was for her, how her mother would tell her she needed an XXXL instead of an XXL, how she had recently lost weight but still couldn’t wear certain colors because they didn’t fit or she wasn’t confident enough.

She did end up getting her corset, and after I checked her out she asked if she could give me a hug, so we ended up standing there hugging each other for a minute. While we did, I told her, “Do not ever let anyone tell you any bullshit. You are gorgeous.” She said, “I have a new boyfriend and he keeps telling me that.” I told her he was right, and to just keep telling herself she’s gorgeous; it was okay if she didn’t always believe it, but to keep telling herself anyway. (That’s how I talked myself through shit when I had bad anxiety.)

We all know fat-shaming is bad. The stupidity, fatphobia, and misogyny of it has pissed me off since I first became aware of it. But working with clothing, especially as figure-hugging and precise as corsets, has given me a new perspective on it—how much it affects people and just how shitty it is. Like, what does it say that I had a grown, only average-big woman crying into my shoulder because she was so overjoyed not to be the uppermost extremity of what a manufacturer can clothe?

My job rocks and it’s really rewarding, but sometimes it highlights some of the ugliest shit about society. I’m so glad I work at a shop that’s not bullshit about body types and operates with more people in mind than just scrawny white chicks like me. The fat women I work with are a ton of fun to lace up, and they’re so much more than their size—they’re cool, they’re smart, they’re funny, they’re sweet, they’re great to talk to, and yes, they’re hot. I’m so damn done with them getting short-changed and shamed by petty fucks who refuse to make them nice clothes, who refuse to even try to work for them, who refuse to consider them pretty. This whole rant was useless and won’t get read, but I had to vent because it’s been driving me nuts.

So actually, screw you, random dude. Fat girls are the highlight of my job.

Going to add this bit: I’m overweight. I’m not really big, but I’ve always had issues with my weight and the shit I get from people. I was actually getting fitted for a corset and was told I needed to go down a size. So I understand how that girl felt. I know that it’s “just a number” and it shouldn’t bother me, but that made me feel awesome.

I read every word of this and it made me want to cry and buy a corset.

Oh god this just reminds me of when i worked in theatre… we literally made a girl cry because we made her a corset that actually fit and matched everyone else’s costumes.

It broke my heart, she was just a girl! I don’t even think she was out of high school and she’d already been treated so shitty.

I’m crying.