#I LOVE HER SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO

[rookanisstuff]

“Rook? Can I bother you-”

“No, go away.”

[eydilily]

i hope youre able to recover from artblock (and your wrist pain) i know how much that absolutely SUCKS lol

uhm for requests maybe some etho and pearl playing hungry hermits?

hungry hermits how i love you SO much

[imsofreakingtired]

reasons why sevika is a little shit

would deliver the most scathing roast to someone and sit back and watch their reaction with this fuckass smirk on her face ⬆️

would not hesitate to fight a child

would not hesitate to fight multiple children

would not hesitate to taunt a child

has taunted a child

she goes stabby stab sometimes

called a man "weak" in front of all his people

would download all her movies illegally ("i aint paying for that shit")

has committed 1st degree murder

walks around running a crime ring

has a machete for an arm which i am pretty sure is technically illegal even tho it is her arm

will throw things when angy

chronic loser of fights with aforementioned children

would smoke in specifically no smoking areas

multiple accounts of tax fraud

is way too hot

⬆️ like too hot.

and she probably knows it

probably unable to talk about her feelings

will steal your drink even if you were already drinking it

on that note, will probably also steal your food

Would Refuse To Elaborate™️

if she likes you, she will not flirt like a normal person she will glare at you for an hour from across the room

would sulk for days if you didnt give her enough attention but also would never tell you she wanted it in the first place

would walk through the house in her boots

would leave her stuff literally everywhere

has smuggled illegal drugs into the upper city

"why negotiate when you can beat the living shit out of them instead."

wears a crop top and low rise pants and a choker to feel cunty

CROP TOP LOW RISE PANTS AND A CHOKER.

she knows what she does to the girls (and doesnt care)

[minamill]

📔 Anisa Abdullahi 📔

Bookworm, Socially Awkward, Family-Oriented

[uwudonoodle]

My collection of jellyfish, including my own Clara.

hello I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. The anonymity of tumblr means that I associate my idea/image of you with your icon and sometimes I look at people’s icons and I’m like ‘hmmm….what is that and why?’ 

so pls reblog this and comment in the tags the meaning behind your icon and why you chose it. this is a social experiment. do it for science pls.

[gaypeople]

i know some people wish chappell would have stayed indie but i’m so glad a lesbian artist who refuses to stop speaking her mind on the things that matter and loves trans people loudly and proudly is one of the most famous people right now like it cannot be understated how powerful that is

[pangur-and-grim]

I love that her face looks so blank

[trashdykegoblin]

@croshnaloov <33

Surprise! Tumblr just got turned into an epic fantasy RPG, just like [your favorite appropriate media franchise]. And the Tumblr RPG's plot needs to have all of its characters covered, in roles both large and small.

That means that you are assigned to a stereotypical RPG role inside our new fantasy world. Spin this wheel to find out what you are now doing for a living.

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

GUYS GUYS GUYS

STEPHS SWEATER IN ROBIN 111 IS CRYSTALS SWEATER. Steph took Crystals sweater and ran away with it. That’s why it’s too big for Steph, it’s not her sweater holy shit!

She was so angry at her mom and so conflicted and so hurt and despite all that when she was packing a bag to run away from home with she put her moms sweater in the bag and then when she was feeling shitty she wore it because it felt like home even when Steph felt like she couldn’t go back to her actual home.

[kashverse]

mamakuna showing babykuna pictures of dadkuna and mamakuna when they started dating to then getting married : 3

this was such a sweet thing to write, thank you for requesting :)

sometimes, when you feel particularly sentimental, you like to take out an old shoebox hidden in the back of your closet—a silly little memory box from when you and sukuna were still young, brimming with more ambition than the capitalist machine could ever contain.

and, naturally, babykuna, with her insatiable curiosity and her obsessive love for anything you do, wiggles herself onto your lap, her chubby hands grabbing at the pictures you pull out. "what’s this one, mama?" she asks excitedly, waving around a photo.

it’s an old one. a bit worn at the edges. you smile fondly as you look at it—it's from back when you and sukuna were just coworkers, sitting stiffly in a boardroom, surrounded by serious-looking people in suits. your hair is neatly pulled back, and sukuna’s? a disaster. 

"this was when papa and i worked together at our old job," you explain, pointing to yourselves. babykuna squints at the picture, then at her father sitting beside you, who is watching the two of you with amusement. "papa looks like he fought a tornado," she says matter-of-factly. sukuna scoffs. "it was called having style."

"it was called oversleeping and showing up late," you correct, laughing. sukuna grumbles under his breath, but babykuna is already diving into the box again, plucking out another picture. this one is years later—in front of the building of sukuna's newly formed company. his tie is a bit loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and he's beaming—really beaming—in a way he wasn't in the last picture. "this is when papa started his own company," you explain, brushing your fingers over the photo.

"he looks so happy!" babykuna giggles. "yeah," you chuckle, nudging sukuna. "he was so happy he picked me up and spun me around right after this was taken."

"that’s called celebrating," sukuna says smugly. babykuna nods seriously, then turns back to the box.

next, she pulls out a photobooth strip—four little snapshots.

first one: you and sukuna sitting side by side, a little stiff but comfortable.

second one: sukuna leaning in a little closer, you both mid-laugh.

third one: you two are cheek to cheek now, eyes crinkled with amusement.

fourth one: sukuna halfway through biting your cheek. your face is a picture of betrayal.

"papa, why are you eating mama?!" babykuna exclaims, horrified. "i was just showing my love," sukuna grins.

"with your teeth?!"

"yep."

"ew."

you sigh, shaking your head, but the next picture has you laughing immediately. it’s a shot of you and sukuna in matching santa costumes, both looking like you were dragged into this against your will. your mouth is open mid-yell, probably reacting to sukuna biting your cheek—again. "uncle gojo's birthday party," you say, still laughing.

babykuna stares at the photo. "papa," she says slowly.

"yeah?"

"why do you keep biting mama?!"

"i like the way she tastes."

"ewwww!"

and then finally—she finds the last set of photos. polaroids, from your wedding. not the big, polished, magazine-worthy shots hung around your home—these ones are natural, candid, genuine. one where you and sukuna are laughing mid-toast, your glasses clinking together. one where sukuna is helping you fix your veil, an unexpectedly soft look on his face. one where you’re leaning against his chest, eyes closed, his arms wrapped around you. babykuna gasps dramatically. "mama, papa, you look so boo-tiful."

"yeah?" sukuna murmurs, looking over the photos with a soft smirk. babykuna nods. "like princess and dragon."

you snort. “who's who?” 

she blinks. 

"…obviously papa is the dragon."

sukuna grins, ruffling her hair. "damn right."

babykuna presses the photos to her chest, looking between you and sukuna with the happiest little smile. "i wanna keep these forever."

sukuna leans back, watching the two of you gush over the memories, and realizes something - he's already won everything he's ever wanted.

[inbabylontheywept]

Babylon and the Duck of Butter

I have a gift for falling in love with random objects. One time, my aunt got me a little rubber chicken, and whenever I squoze it, a little egg thing popped out. Very silly. Except that chicken became something like my best friend. I carried it with me to school, and I kept it with me in my pocket, and whatever social hazards there were about Being The Guy Who Got Stressed Whenever His Rubber Chicken Was Missing were far outweighed by being The Guy Who ALWAYS Had a Rubber Chicken On Him. There's a lot of comedic opportunity that comes with always having a good prop on your person.

Of course, the chicken did eventually. Explode. And such was my grief that I did not eat for 36 hours. This was very stressful for many people. Mostly my mom. I was a very strange child to work with. She took parenting so incredibly seriously, and then I'd pitch her these curve balls like refusing to eat for a day and a half because my rubber chicken died. No parenting book tells you what to do when that happens. You just have to feel it in your heart.

A less tragic story of an object that I fell in love with was a large, foam toad that I found in a trinket shop. The toad was the size of a very large grapefruit. Much too large to carry with me to school (thank god) but enough that I could move it around the house, to keep me company during my solitary pursuits. If I was reading, the toad was there, and if I was tinkering with legos, the toad was there, and even when I slept, I would wrap the toad up in layers and layers of blankets, and then spoon it. I did this until the rubber coating on the foam started to wear out, and the foam started to get brittle and break down and leak this repulsive yellow powder. Then I simply put the toad in the playroom and would consult it on matters of great importance. Eventually I stopped doing that, and someone took the opportunity to dispose of it. Not sure who. By the time I noticed its absence, too much time had passed for me to actually be sad. As an adult, part of me thinks I would have maybe liked burying the toad, but part of me also thinks I might have refused to part with the toad, which would have resulted in it leaking more repulsive yellow powder into the house. So I understand why that decision was made. 

I want to state that this does not happen often, and it does not happen on purpose. I don't choose to fall in love with random objects. And it's always a little bit embarrassing when it happens. 

Which brings me to my wife. 

Before meeting my wife, I did not often go to places with crowds. I didn't really think of it as avoiding them - those places just didn't seem fun to me. But she liked those places, and I really liked her, and being with someone who really likes something can kind of sell you on liking it too, so I'd take her to places and watch her Visibly Enjoy the Fair and go: Alright. The fair is pretty sweet.  

Which is a thing that happened. After fourish months of dating, I took her to the fair. And she fell very visibly in love with a large series of quilts, and she stayed near them for a while, which she thought was very embarrassing, and I got to pretend to be understanding as an outsider, because I thought it would be much more impressive than also being the type of person that would fall in love with a quilt. 

Do not do this. The gods punishment for my hubris was that the room next to the quilts was full of butter sculptures, which was an entirely new thing to me, and I immediately fell embarrassingly in love with all of them. It was like the biggest, sappiest non-sexual crush you've ever had, but not only did the other person not recipropcate, they could not, because they were made of butter. I actually got yelled at for pressing my face against the glass, which is fair, but also, I hadn't realized I was pressing my face on the glass, I just started leaning forward because after approximately 30 minutes of staring wistfully at a cow made of butter my legs got tired. And I think I should be given some grace for that.

Anyway. My wife was very patient with me taking more time to look at the butter sculptures than the average person might spent at the Louvre, and she also felt much less embarrassed over falling in love with a quilt, and we had a good laugh about it on the ferris wheel. 

A few weeks after that was my birthday. And I don't know what I expected, exactly - but I did not expect what she did. 

Dear reader, she made me a butter sculpture. Of a duck.

She picked a duck, because our first kiss was at a Japanese friendship garden. It was our second date, and she'd made up her mind not to do any kissing until the third date, but as we sat on the grass, a duck walked past me, and I'd just seen the hold-duck-gentle-like-hamgurber meme,

so I sort of impulsively reached out and snatched it. I honestly didn't think it would work. I don't know who was more flabbergasted, me or the duck. But we looked at each other, and then I looked at her, and then she looked at the duck, and she looked so incredibly envious that I assumed that must have wanted the duck so I just handed it to her.

It turned out she was actually envious of the ability to just grab a duck as it walked by, but she accepted the duck and stroked it a few times before releasing it. (She also made up her mind to kiss me in that moment, which was very nice.)  

Anyway.

She made me a butter duck of my own. Obviously, I fell in love with it immediately. I cleared out all of the freezer-portion of my mini fridge, and I put the duck in there, and for the next several months, when I felt sad, or lonely, I would open the door up and spent some quality time. Just me and my duck.

But this is, of course, not the end of the story. 

Because.

After several months. 

The mini fridge died. 

I really didn't use it that often. It was mostly my duck storage container. But one day, I walked by it, and it struck me that it wasn't humming. So I opened the door, and it was just. Far, far too late. The duck was dead. Dead dead. Turned into a foul-smelling slime dead. 

I cried. I did. After the rubber chicken thing, I thought I had changed, but I had not changed, and the unexpected death of my butter buddy left me pretty shook. I texted my then-girlfriend now-wife about how sad I was, and she actually came over to help me say goodbye. We didn't even bother scraping the duck out of the mini-fridge, we just said our goodbyes to both and threw them together in the nice dumpster behind the chapel, because it seemed appropriate to put it in God's dumpster. And it did actually help quite a bit. I certainly did not go 36 hours without eating again. 

And that was, for some time, the end of the butter duck. 

However. Three (or four?) years ago, for my birthday, my wife was looking around thrift stores. And she found something interesting. 

The original butter duck had an odd pose. She'd sculpted it laying flat, intending to raise it up later. But the butter was less flexible than she thought, and she was afraid of cracking it so she left it down which left the duck with a very elongated, very in-motion appearance. And she found a brass statue of a duck in the same, running posture.

It wasn't the original. But it was oddly on the nose. It was a yellow brass, it had the same strange posture, the same crude little face feathers. 

I think it was $3, but it remains perhaps the most thoughtful gift I have ever received. I got very choked up when I unwrapped Butter Duck, The UnDying. 

Pic provided.

[helenanell]

Missing her more than words can express.

Cristin Milioti as Sofia Gigante THE PENGUIN (2024) S01E08 | "A Great or Little Thing"

[ophernelia]

𓆩♱𓆪 recent episode | watch from the start!

[aurorangen]

Guilt consumed Vincent whenever he lied to Renee. Vincent thought it was risky to let her know about investigating the secret basement with Isaac. She'd want to help and that meant gathering unwanted attention from the police and the media. When they arrived, Vincent sat there in his car, shoulders slumped. He tried to think. He strained to think. But seeing his childhood home only triggered traumatic events from his past, obscuring all his plans for the day.

"Isaac…I don't think I'm ready today," he said, hiding the tremor in his voice. "It's okay, we can take our time to solve it," Isaac had his own nerves seeing Vincent's childhood home; they were facing the unknown after all. "I'm ready whenever you are."

[jaymilepland]

Oooh

Nice

spin this list of all of the pokemon. you are now that pokemon.

[scurvyboy]

mabel relativity falls love of my life