#MY ROOM IS CLEAN

[toomanythoughts2]

Paranoia is running high tonight, boys. Boy oh boy, I fucking hate roaches in my room :) please go away :) I can't sleep now :) I also burnt my thumb on my bug zapper :) I'm going to sleep in my car if I lay down and I see another one :) haha :) :) :)

[popcorn-plots]

yoooo laundry is put away and room is clean!!!

more laundry is in the wash rn because the laundry is never truly finished, but eehhhe

[trannyposting]

Cleaning the depression room is gender affirming care.

[furthestnearbyplace]

don’t wanna work

[ozuzo]

Has anyone in Homestuck ever heard about the concept of tidying up your room?

[kapturkaptur]

played 7-S. this image appeared in my mind instantly

[aussiepineapple1st]

I’m learning some sthings.

[weepingnectar]

mc holding on to her last thread of patience

I love them, they're so silly

[maxpawb]

🌴 erasable colored pens, highlighters, water based markers, recycled cardboard (box of crackers), stickers

[sunnibits]

some people really need to learn how to knock

[arrowheadedbitch]

New idea: Shinsou is supposed to be babysitting Eri but he has to do something so he leaves Denki in charge for a little bit, he comes back expecting the house to be burnt down but instead he finds Eri begging Kaminari to let her re-dirty up her room so they can clean it together again

[mistakenolive]

Waaay back in 2nd grade my teacher had us write a book called "My Pet Dinosaur", describing what we would do if we could have any dinosaur as a pet. This being the early 90s and having freshly watched Jurassic Park, I decided to skip the T rexes and sauropods, wanting something that would fit in my house and wouldn't eat me. So, I got out my trusty 1987 "Dinosaurs!" Childcraft Annual to pick something more practical, and decided on Psittacosaurus.

^ the illustration in the 1987 book, versus this recent, much more accurate depiction by Bob Nicholls.

So, three decades later, I found the ever-talented @bookrat and their incredible paleo taxidermy art blog. I knew I wanted to commission them, so I decided to fulfill a childhood dream at the same time! I chose a model of a psittacosaurus hatchling because the 14 inch hatchling would take up far less space than a 4 foot long adult, and actually be in my budget. I asked for a green color because of the 1987 illustration above, but more accurate and less mock turtle, lol.

it came out gorgeous! I have my new "pet" here posing adorably with two of my actual-factual pets. Thank you again @bookrat for your beautiful work! I'll have to get a collar soon to take more pics :)

EDIT: This is blowing up, so make you're liking and reblogging @bookrat 's post too, and check out all their other art and dino models!

[doctorsiren]

Imagine: Calypso as GLaDOS and Ody as Chell…trapped for 7 years testing…

[chaoticace2005]

Me: *about to do the thing*

Someone: *asks me to do the thing*

Me:

[perksofbeingpoet]

todd hadn't felt ready to enter neil's room because he was scared of its emptiness, but looking at the stuffed animal sitting on a dead boy's bed, he suddenly longs for blank walls.

it's a dog. floppy-eared. orange eyes. its fur is matted where neil must have pressed it against his cheek as a child, his chest, his neck.

it looks up at todd, big-eyed, glass-eyed.

its fur is matted where neil was alive.

todd wants to say something, something stupid like "i don't think he's coming back, buddy" or "oh look, there's two of us", but his throat feels sore and thick.

the dog looks up at todd, big-eyed, glass-eyed.

its fur is matted, and todd can almost see it- neil, a toddler, sleepily rubbing his eyes, running to the kitchen table barefoot, always carrying this dog. he can see neil asleep in a bed half the size of this one, rolling over in his sleep and reaching out for the comfort of this stuffed animal.

he can see neil- reaching out.

the dog looks up at todd, big-eyed, glass-eyed.

[s0fter-sin]

trans!soap taking his baby and running away from his rich abusive husband

(cw angst, financial abuse, single threat of child abuse, single mention of transphobia)

he's owned soap for years, since he was a teenager; paid for his medication and all his surgeries and tied them so deeply, soap’s lost hope of ever getting away. he gets even worse when soap falls pregnant. he was always controlling; blowing up at him if he spent too long out of the house or did something without telling him. but he becomes utterly possessive during the pregnancy

soap knows it has nothing to do with his safety or the baby's

he knows he sees his baby as an investment; another being he can control and hold over him

he gets worse and worse but there’s nothing soap can do. there's been nothing he can do for a long time. then a few months after the baby is born, soap doesn’t watch his tone closely enough and his husband threatens to drop his baby in punishment for it

soap doesn't think. he doesn't plan

he takes his baby and runs

he sneaks out of the servant's quarters of the sterile mansion he's been forced to live in for almost a decade and walks down the street without a backwards glance; his baby the only thing in his arms. he knows all of his husband's cars have trackers, all of them in his name since he never lets soap drive or go anywhere by himself, so he walks far enough to be out of view of the mansion's cameras and steals one. it doesn't have a car seat and all he can do is clutch his baby to his chest as he drives

he doesn't know where he's going beyond away

he doesn't know what he's going to do; he doesn't have any money, no supplies for his baby, he doesn't even have water for himself so he can reliably breastfeed him. he's terrified his husband will find them; he’s always felt omniscient, always everywhere and seeing everything he did. if he didn’t have eyes somewhere, he paid someone who did and they always dutifully reported back to him

soap just keeps his eyes forward. just keeps driving and driving, lost to the road and numb until the low gas light pops up on the dash and it all hits him at once

he turns into a gas station he can't pay for, in a car he stole, and parks behind it and his baby immediately starts getting fussy

he can't even call him by his name sometimes; too afraid to get attached, too afraid to lose him. as if he doesn’t love him more than life itself

even throughout his pregnancy, as happy as he was to finally have a baby, he didn't know if he could carry to term and that fear just let his husband dig his claws in even deeper; paying for extra scans he could never hope to pay for, favours on top of favours so he would aways owe him and isn’t he such a loving husband? taking soap in when his parents kicked him out for being trans, looking after him for all these years? you can’t even take care of yourself john, you’d still be a woman without me, john, what is this tantrum about john-

soap tugs his shirt up to let his baby feed, drops his head back and cries

he can't stop it; wails loud and uncontrolled, chest heaving with his sobs enough that it sways his baby, occasionally breaking his latch and he can't even do this right-

he can't save him

a light knock sounds on the window and soap flinches, curling over his baby to protect him from his huband's cruel hands

but it's not his husband outside the window

soap blinks tears from his eyes and looks at the large stranger standing beside the car. a neck gaiter covers his mouth and it should be off-putting… but something about him stops the feeling in its tracks. the stranger takes a half-step back and lifts a chilled and sealed water bottle, pressing it towards the window

soap quickly swipes his face clean and rolls down the window. "sorry 'bout that," he apologises with a choked laugh, the careful front he’s built over the years cracked and bleeding

the stranger gives a dismissive but somehow not diminishing shrug. "long day?" he asks

"could say that," he gives a shrug of his own and pats his baby's back as he makes a disgruntled noise, unconsciously swaying him

he politely keeps his gaze up on his face. "looks like you could use a break."

soap's breath hitches, anxiously darting his tongue out over his bottom lip. "could say that," he repeats uselessly and takes the water with a quiet “thanks,”; his throat dry and screaming for it after crying so hard

the stranger hums, watching him down the bottle and soap doesn’t notice his eyes drifting to the backseat and footwell of the passenger side. doesn’t notice the slight tension in his fists at what he sees. "how long you been runnin', lad?"

soap freezes, the water settling in his stomach like a stone. he swallows thickly and the bottle falls from his lips

"not long enough."

the stranger just nods, looking idly back down the highway

"you know, this place is connected to a garage,” he starts, nodding back to a building attached to the station without taking his eyes off the road. “lotta people drift through 'ere on road trips; too many to keep track.”

soap frowns slightly, shifting his hold on his baby

“funny thing is, plenty of 'em just abandon their car when they break down. like yours,” he adds and finally turns back to him with a pointed look. “got a whole junkyard of 'em. just rustin' away. be pretty easy to convince me to trade ya one."

soap’s mouth parts in a gasp as he realises just what the stranger’s saying. "how easy?" he whispers

he shrugs and even with his face hidden beneath the gaiter, he doesn’t feel afraid. "i'd say this car'd be a good deal. would blend right in with the rest of ‘em; no one’d ever notice it. what say i take it off your hands?"

soap's breath shudders out of him, his whole body going limp with relief. his baby's eyes fall shut with a satisfied hum and for the first time he can remember, he feels the gentle touch of hope

"i think we can work something out."

🧼💀

ghost owns the service station soap pulled into. he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired and you can’t get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn’t had anyone pull in in days so he’s quick to notice soap’s car. he’s also quick to notice soap's subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras. the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they’re all he has left in the world, is so familiar he felt sick with it

he knows someone running when he sees it

if he didn't check on him, if this lad disappeared one day and the baby along with him, he'd never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen

but the lad is terrified. and when he startled him, he didn't turn. didn’t lift his arms to protect himself. no

he covered his baby

like he was afraid he'd be hurt

that's enough for ghost

🧼💀

i'd wanna set this in the 80's or 90's, just to make it even harder for soap to get away from his husband. he's a trans man with a newborn; he has no one to run to and no resources to help him. his husband's bought and paid for everything for him since he was 17; a few whirlwind weeks of unbelievable dates and extravagant gifts and he was living in his mansion, getting married the day after his 18th birthday. he thought it was love. thought he was being looked after and cared for the way he’s always wanted

he was in pain and alone and naive enough to believe the first person who came along and promised to make it better. nothing's in his name, not his insurance or his meds, he doesn’t have a bank account or savings; other than a birth certificate, nothing even ties him to his baby. his husband could take his world away from him with a snap of his fingers and he made sure soap always knew it

he never had a chance of getting away

but ghost is ex-military

he doesn’t know the lad’s story, doesn’t know the details of what he’s running from. he doesn’t need to know

he decided he was helping him the second he pulled into his service station