#PLEASE HOLD PLEASE HOLD PLEASE HOLD

[completeoveranalysis]

[7]

Mokona is still here! 

I know this is The Moment That Is Occurring Starting Now but I’m immediately distracted by Mokona’s eyes. Which always do that, kind of, but like

Snatched

She’s out here with full Shoujo Eye Magic and I love that for her. 

Meanwhile we’re talking about feathers or something I guess let’s pay attention

I am so so so very over the way he explains things but yes, yes we are aware that things have changed. In the past and the future. And that the universe is falling apart. It has been completely impossible to miss at any point ever. Thank you for the continuous reminder. 

"There wasn’t a feather here before but now there is." That’s not hard to explain Evil Wolverine why do you have to do this every time. 

I don’t think I have the language context to understand his point about the cadence of people’s names so I’m ignoring that and just focusing on the other things

Is he talking about Acid Tokyo

We haven’t seen any other world where they are fiercely fighting over water in a desert

Is he implying this is Acid Tokyo

IS HE

I'm just going to turn the page to double check before going on about this too long BUT PLEASE PICTURE ME LIKE THIS FOR THE MOMENT

PLEASE HOLD PLEASE HOLD PLEASE HOLD

[zimshan]

Attention Pennsylvania voters!

Senator Bob Casey’s race is now at a margin of 0.53%.

An automatic recount in PA is triggered with a margin of 0.5%. That’s a difference of 0.03% or a little over 2,000 votes. We need to make sure every ballot is counted here, and there’s thousands of uncounted ballots right now due to voter error.

Did you mail in a ballot? Check to see it was accepted here:

If it says anything other than accepted/counted/etc, your ballot needs your attention. A mistake in filling it out means that your ballot will not count unless you “cure” it. Check your county’s curing policies:

See full instructions for curing by county here.

You have until November 12 to cure your ballot in PA.

Do you know someone who mailed in a PA ballot? Please pass these links on to them. You may be the difference between their vote counting or not in a super close race.

Everyone else, you can help PA voters cure their ballots. If you live in Pennsylvania, you can help canvass in your county (see links in this thread). If you are in another state, you can sign up to call voters and help them cure by phone.

Want to help another state? Sign up for a shift through November 19.

[spacefighter413]

if a number divided by itself is always equal to 1, surely this holds true for 0/0 as well

[meelkiewee]

I'm sooo late on the Grian permit office train but I just found this image on internet and I was possessed to draw.

Hope you enjoy.

And if you don't I'll have to put you on hold.

⬇�� inspo pic + details

[imperceiveable]

[irhabiya]

another campaign brought to my attention by a palestinian i speak personally with, and i trust its legitamcy. Hamdy has suffered great loss since the start of this genocide, his mother, aunt, siblings, cousins, neices and nephews, and 5 month old sister were martyred. despite making the campaign months ago, Hamdy has only received FIVE donations so far, and hasn't gotten any donations in months.

please share and donate to his campaign, no amount is too little!

€95 / €10,000

tagging for reach

@terroristiraqi @shamemp3 @three-croissants @srdcovka @90-ghost @fairuzfan @mithli @7amaspayrollmanager @opencommunion @anti-democratic-russian-bot @tamamita @feluka @gabajoofs @aristotels @huzni @themeoflauramp3 @witchywitchy @ma3moul @khargooshe @womenintheirwebs @splashporpoise @flouryhedgehog @revindicatedbyhistory @german-milfs @breadmp3 @bassia-bassensis @anneemay @antiquititties @anyab

[qifreyplushie]

can i see your necklace for a second, your highness? ^__^

[hyolks]

al's the kinda guy to wear sweater vests and oxfords <3

[dilfosaur]

my birthday is on tuesday so please look at my neopets and their government assigned human forms it's all i want

[anbaisai]

Blep. (Sequel to the boop)

Or alternatively titled: Snake Jamil, but even larger noodle

The species that Jamil is based on here is called the Blood Python (special thanks to @kirexa for the information!), which can reach an average of 4-6 ft in length and up to 30 lbs in weight.

Bonus panel:

[humanityinahandbag]

In my mind, Robin has to tag along on most of Steve's hangouts with Eddie. Eddie thinks it's a SteveandRobin thing but really it's because she's the only line of defense between Eddie and Steve.

She just keeps telling Eddie that he should be grateful. He doesn't get it but whatever.

The actual problem?

If Eddie does anything in the vicinity of Steve that's funny or sweet or, even more dangerous, is really nice and attentive to any random child, Steve suddenly gets a look in his eye that means Casual Hangs Can Include a Marriage License, Right?

On Halloween, helping Steve give out candy, Eddie made a little girls night when he saw she was dressed as a princess and actually bowed and once she and her dad were gone Steve put down the bowl and casually said, "After this we need to swing by City Hall real quick."

Thankfully Robin was there to spray him with a water bottle and throw a full sized Milky Way at his head.

Meanwhile Eddie's standing in the background confused as hell wondering why Steve keeps suggesting bureaucracy as a fun activity and why Robin and Steve are whisper-yelling at once another in the kitchen like it's not even legal and you haven't even asked him out yet! and I'm wooing him, Robin, where's your sense of romance? When you know you know! Did you see how he is with kids? And that's quitter talk honestly Robin, I'll break City Hall's doors down and you can sign the papers it can't be that hard.

[parrrty-poison]

fascist gets elected for president of the US, a week later mcr drops tbp lore about a dictator,,,, save us mcr

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Okay you can’t tell me that Vlad doesn’t have an organ somewhere in his mansion. Upon learning of this, Danny would teach himself how to play the Haunted Mansion theme on the organ and play it at 2am.

Vlad Masters is away on business in Gotham, and the Fentons are coincidentally there for a symposium on ecto-activity. So it’s perfect! Except he goes to the wrong house, er mansion.

Honestly, Danny thought it was one of Vlad’s many mansions. Scaring the old man is his favorite activity after all. There’s a higher amount of ectoplasm here, so it has to be Vlad’s place right?

When Bruce comes out (on one of his few nights off) and sees his carbon copy playing the organ, all thoughts fly out of his head. Danny finally looks up and also blue screens. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity until Danny’s cell phone rings (the ghostbusters theme??) and he panics. He jumps up and makes a break for the other door rushing through apologies “SorryWronghousegottagobye!” And runs out of the room. “Wait! Who are you?”Bruce exclaims as he rushes after him. They’re on the second story in one of the rooms he rarely uses. How did he know where the organ was? No matter. He’ll catch the kid on the stairs.

Except the kid is already almost at the bottom. How did he get down so effortlessly? The kid practically floated down the stairs.

Bruce gets to the foyer just in time to see the kid realize the door was dead-bolted in multiple spots. He won’t be able to undo them all before Bruce catches up to him.

He slows down and stands behind a pillar, assessing his next move. He needs to be careful here. This is a child after all, no need to spook him any more than he already has. He needs to slowly approach, and ask his questions.

But then the kid does the unexpected. After looking around frantically, he takes a deep breath. Two rings form around his middle and travel up and down his body. His black hair turns ghostly white. He looks back, almost directly at Bruce. His eyes widen as if he realizes he’s being watched. He whispers, barely loud enough to hear, “I’m so sorry, please don’t follow me.” Then, he backs through the locked door and vanishes.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Apparently, some companies now are labeling mass-produced crochet items with "machine crocheted" to justify selling an entire granny square vest for 14 bucks.

1. Machines cannot crochet.

2. Knitting machines, to my knowledge, cannot make granny squares.

3. Even if there was a machine that could crochet, 14 bucks for an entire fucking vest is still too low to be paying people a livable wage basically anywhere in the world.

4. It takes me, a very fast crocheter, about twenty minutes to make one granny square in a single color with five rows. Multi-color granny squares take more time. I'll say 30 minutes. Next time you see a granny square anything in a big box store, count one row of squares and multiply by 20 (for single color squares) or 30 (multicolor squares). Then consider that it's skilled labor which should have an hourly wage you can live on. Then look at the price tag. This is Victorian piece work poor shit going on.

[ghosted-jazz]

Black Mercy

[muffinlance]

Hi ! prompt idea : What if Zuko was armed during the first episode and was stranded with the water tribe while the avatar left with Katara and Sokka, Iroh on his trail for white lotus reasons.

Oh we are going to have us some FUN with "stranded with the water tribe", say no more.

---

Zuko was dripping, and steaming, and staring down two dozen women and their gaggle of small children, plus that old not-the-Avatar crone from earlier. They were all cowering away from him. Which was--

Good. It was good. If they were cowering, then they hadn’t noticed how steam was not flames. He wasn’t sure he could make flames, not after the arctic water he’d landed in, with that last sight of the Avatar glowing; not after surfacing under the ice pack, after swimming, after kicking slamming breaking through and his ship was gone and there was only ocean all around and

and he’d made it back to this pathetic little camp of the Southern Water Tribe, because that was the only place he knew for sure would have shelter, and he wasn’t going to die just because they were all staring at him, even if felt like he would.

Even if the old not-the-Avatar woman could probably take him, right now. But she didn’t know that.

Zuko pulled himself up, taller than her by at least a few inches, and blew steam from his nose.

“I am commandeering one of your huts,” he said. And added, because Uncle said even a prince should be gracious: “You may choose which one.”

---

She choose her own.

...The only one without children that flames might scar, or younger women to catch a soldier’s interests.

Zuko sat by her fire and determinedly started struggling out of his wet clothes and she was still in here with him--

Zuko pulled one of her animal pelts over himself, and finished fighting off his clothes. When he stuck his head back out, cheeks still reddened from what was obviously the cold, she dropped a parka on his head.

“Dry clothes, Your Highness,” she said.

The parka was much bigger than he was. He fell asleep hoping that the camp’s men were on a long, long hunting trip.

---

He woke up again. Kanna tucked her favorite ulu knife away, newly sharpened, and stopped contemplating the alternative.

---

“I am commandeering a ship,” he said.

The crone led him across the village, all twenty paces of it, to a row of canoes.

“Take whichever one you want,” she said. “Will you need help getting it to the water?”

Zuko looked at the canoes. Looked at the ocean. Watched a leopard seal, easily the size of the largest canoe, dozing just past the ice his own ship had broken through the day before. It was frozen again, a great icy arrow pointing from the waves to the village, snow already starting to cover it over.

Beyond was blue sky and gray ocean and white ice, floating in blocks like stepping stones, like boulders, like cliffsides.

There wasn’t even a hint of gray steel, or smoke. Or any land, besides what they were standing on.

He looked down at the canoes again. Somehow, they seemed even smaller.

“I, uh,” Zuko cleared his throat. “I’ll require supplies. Before I go.”

---

They... did not have supplies. Not extra ones. This didn’t stop them from trying to give him supplies, food and blankets and anything else he could think to ask for. But each blanket was a pelt hunted by someone’s grandfather, had been inked with images and stories by someone’s mother, was the favorite of someone’s husband or brother or uncle or cousin--

They couldn’t go to the nearest market to replace things, here.

And when they talked about food, about what they could spare, they kept sneaking glances to their children, who were sneaking glances at Zuko from the huts, sticking their heads just over the snowy ledges like their fur-trimmed hoods would hide them. Their mothers and aunts shooed them away, and they crept back, like barnacle-crabs. Zuko glared, and they disappeared.

“When are your men coming back?” he asked. “They’re hunting, aren’t they?”

Oh. So that was what they looked like, when they weren’t trying to hide their hate.

---

Zuko wrapped himself up in the same blanket that night. It was printed inside with fine lines and images, telling a story he didn’t know. He wondered whose favorite it was.

---

Kanna wondered how quickly he’d wake—if he’d wake—if she built the fire up with wet driftwood and tundra grass, if she had one of the younger girls boost up a child to plug the air hole, if she let the smoke draw its own blanket down over this fire child.

---

It was hard to know when to wake up, because the sun never set. So everyone was up before him, and they all had spears and clubs and—and nets, and trap lines, and snow googles with their single slat to protect the eyes from snow blindness. Zuko had seen those once, at the Ember Island Museum of Ethnography, where they’d gone when it was too rainy for anything more exciting.

Oh. They were going hunting.

“Give me that,” Zuko said, and took a spear.

The women looked at him. One of them adjusted her googles.

“I can hunt,” he scowled.

He did not, in fact, know how to hunt.

---

“Give me that,” the Fire Prince said, and Kanna almost, almost gave him her ulu. Humans, like most animals, had an artery in their legs that would bleed them quick enough.

She kept skinning the rabbit-mink one of the women had snared.

“I can help,” he said, with less grace than most of their toddlers. Likely with the skinning skills of a toddler, too. She wasn’t going to let their unwanted visitor ruin a perfectly good pelt.

“Chop the meat,” she said, and gave him a different knife. “It’s dinner.”

“...This is really sharp,” he said a moment later, looking at the knife with some surprise.

“Is it,” said Kanna.

---

Things the Fire Prince was convinced he could do: hunt (until he realized he couldn’t tell the tracks of a rabbit-mink from a leopard-rabbit apart); spear fish (at least he could dry himself); pack snow for an igloo (frustrated princes ran hot); ice fish (the prince was a problem that kept coming close to solving itself).

Things the Fire Prince could actually do: mince meat, increasingly finely; gather berries and herbs, once he stopped trying to crush them; dig roots, under toddler supervision; mend nets, after the intermediary step of learning to braid hair loopies.

“Can’t I take him ice fishing again?” asked one of the women, as she watched Prince Zuko put as much apparent concentration into braiding her daughter’s hair as his people had into exterminating hers.

“Wait,” said another woman, sitting up straight. “Wait wait wait. I just had an idea.”

---

Three words: Infinite. Hot. Water.

---

Summer was coming to an end. The sun actually set, now, and the night was getting longer, and colder. The salmon-otter nets were mended and ready. The smoking racks were still full of cod-lemmings. The children were all a little older, the women all a little more used to doing both halves of their tribes’ chores; a little more used to not watching the horizon, waiting for help to come.

The Fire Prince was staring at the canoes again.

“Are you actually going to try leaving in one of those?” Kanna asked.

“...No.”

“Come on, then; someone needs to watch the kids while the women are hunting.”

She didn’t leave him alone with them, of course. But she could have.

---

Elsewhere, the war continued.

The moon turned red, for a moment none could sleep through; they did not learn why.

The comet came and went, leaving their castaway prince laying on the beach, his breath fogging up into the night sky above him, as the energy crashed from his system as quickly as it had come. Above, lights began to dance in the sky; Zuko pulled his hood up, so none of those spirits—children, dead too soon—got any ideas about kicking his head off to be their ball.

The war had ended. The world didn’t feel any different; no one in the south would know until spring came again.

---

Suffice it to say, Sokka and Katara were not prepared for this particular homecoming.