#have you tried having a bath

[secretagentsagainstwhatever]

TW suicide

my biggest conspiracy theory is that suicide helpline/crisis lines are purposely obtuse / useless, so that you’re so baffled by their advice that you forget that you wanted to die in the first place

[solargeist]

OMG I JUST NOW REALISED IN YOUR POST "Dad dancing"

XELQUA USING THE MUMBO FOR MAYOR SHIIIIRT AGH

*Family Guy dead pose.*

yeah !! Xelqua occasionally wears Grian's clothes, they're big on him tho of course

[anggeese]

🫧🫧🫧

[ninoochat]

[no-light-left-on]

considering the historical influences in the fashion of Dishonored (and the extent of nsfw fanfiction this fandom has) I’ve been thinking about the layers that would be, realistically, part of the daily dress

which means: dishonored seems to honour the importance of a vest in a properly dressed gentleman’s or lady’s wardrobe

vests were, and I cannot stress this enough, a mandatory part of an outfit, to the point of men wearing only vests if they could not afford a fully tailored suit (trousers + vest + jacket) and a new shirt and opting to only wear a fake collar under the vest for the illusion of a full outfit

shirts were underwear, so to speak. there were no occasions in ‘polite society‘ where one could only wear a shirt without a vest on top.

this is something we see mirrored in both dishonored games, though the style of the vests and clothing have somewhat changed, they still follow the same rules of vests worn with every outfit, as far as we can tell. (we could argue that Jessamine is not wearing one, or that some higher class women aren’t wearing vests under their buttoned up jackets, but since we don’t really see underneath we can’t judge.)

we see the vests be worn even by the Whalers in the first game (which in itself brings up many questions. are whalers, the actual whalers that capture and kill whales, held in high enough regard by the society that they made a vest part of their uniform? or is it merely something that is worn by all? something that every citizen of sound mind would don, were they to leave their house?)

there are a few exceptions to this, of course, but this whole thing came to be by asking a simple question

does the Outsider wear a vest under his leather jacket?

now, in the first game, his jacket is unbuttoned just enough for us to get a good enough peek at what lies beneath. which is to say: there is no hint of a vest underneath. judging by the vests in the first game, the fashion was that the vest would go up high, often covering collarbones or even having a standing collar. what we see on the Outsider is just... an unbuttoned shirt

it’s much the same in the second game, even if we examine his final concept art, his outfit consists of a shirt (more or less underwear) with most of the top buttons unbuttoned, and a jacket on top. no hint of a vest underneath

what I’m trying to say is that the Outsider is a slut

[shewhoeatssand]

they are similar

[pancake-breakfast]

Digging through Trigun Book Club stuff for the Trigun Reference Library and all I can think of is how TriMax Legato is the most Poor Little Meow Meow ever.

'98 Legato was effing terrifying. Totally stole the show from Worst Knives. But he gave me unrealistic expectations for TriMax Legato. TriMax Legato spends so much time being this pathetic little bagworm (who occasionally still bursts in on the scene with a steel chair somehow?) that he's difficult to take seriously, much less get worked up about. At least in the way '98 Legato works you up.

And then you add on his absolutely tragic (and yet completely understandable) attachment to Knives, which is made even more toxic by the fact that, like, ANYONE could have taken in TriMax Legato and he would have likely become a healthier individual than he was able to become under Knives. Hells, I think there's an argument to be made for him standing a better chance under Eye of Michael, and that's saying something, because those guys are fucked up.

Anyway, TriMax Legato is a 10/10 pathetic wet cat is all I'm trying to say here.

[canongf]

as bucky's wife how do you feel about him keeping his arm in the dishwasher though

it's probably the most convenient out of all the options we've tried and i like that it sanitizes because dirt and debris and god knows what else gets into all the crevices and it comes out whenever he moves his arm which is gross when it is in our BED. so i allow the dishwasher

[slyandthefamilybook]

the internet was a mistake

[meownotgood]

compelling you to look at cute sleepover aki which was made by @secret-weeb-account

[seth-the-giggle-fish]

my keyboard is all squeaky clean from it's bath

[chiotri-loves-davekat]

theres no stopping me

[elkian]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you're using an aromatic ointment or balm of some kind - menthol roll-on, Tiger Balm, Salonpass, Icy-Hot, etc. etc. - you will benefit from the "this edible ain't shit" method.

Apply a little, then wait. Do not keep applying more because you don't feel anything instantly. You will have Regrets.

[aria0fgold]

Delaying my bath time so badly I start looking around the house in a bathrobe trying to find where that bulbasaur plush had gone.

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[barikinbear]

A Visitor

Splinter shifted in his sleep, slowly becoming aware of another presence in his room.

Whoever it was had pressed themselves against his back, their warmth not unwelcome but certainly a surprise. His sons hadn’t climbed in with him since they were little.

Even after the invasion was over, they crawled in bed with each other rather then trying to squeeze into his tiny bed. He was convinced it had been a child’s mattress before April brought it home for him. She claimed it was twin size, but he called baloney on that.

So who on earth had chosen his bed to crawl into? Even Mikey had a hard time fitting in with him.

Not that whoever this was fit exactly. Splinter could feel himself sliding closer and closer to the edge. He was gonna kiss the floor if they didn’t move over soon.

A strange smell filled his nose. Almost like how Mayhem smelled when he hadn’t gotten a bath in awhile.

Then whoever it was let out a small bark.

Splinter’s eyes flew open. He switched on his bedside lamp and looked over his shoulder at the strangest surprise of his life.

A dog lay on his bed. A German shepherd, maybe four or five months old, with big ears and a round, twitching nose.

“What on earth?” His startled words woke the pup, who sat straight up and tilted its head at him. One of its ears flopped over.

“Aww!” He reached over and scratched the dog behind its cute ears. It leaned its head into his hand, closing its eyes in delight.

“You poor thing. You’re lost, aren’t you?”

He took a quick peek and saw that it was a girl.

“You’re a cutie. Yes you are, yes you are!”

The dog’s tail smacked a thumping rhythm on the bed, her bright eyes fixed on Splinter’s every move.

Where had she come from? Her fur felt gritty, and he wasn’t even sure it was its proper color.

“You need a bath. You smell like a dirt patch, and that’s coming from me!”

She barked in response. He shushed her, gently squeezing her face between his palms.

Another layer of dirt was smeared on his hands.

“You’re so grimy! If you’re going to stay with me tonight, you need a bath, young lady.”

He slid off the bed, the puppy bouncing after him.

He shushed her again and led her out into the living room.

So many things caught her attention, he ended up carrying her to the bathroom.

And he thought his sons had trouble staying focused! This dog’s nose caught the scent of everything in the whole house, and she just had to investigate it all.

He plopped her into the tub. She put her paws up on the edge, watching him rummage through the cupboard under the sink.

“Found it!”

Raphael kept a bottle of extra gentle body wash under the sink, claiming it was the only soap he’d use in the shower. He always said that Purple’s soap didn’t have enough of a smell, and Blue’s smelled too strong, and Splinter was pretty sure Orange just used hand soap.

“Red won’t mind sharing when he sees how cute you are.”

She barked again, her tail smacking the wall.

“Shhh! You’re going to wake the whole house!”

She tilted her head at him, her one crooked ear nearly covering her eye.

“Maybe you aren’t fully shepherd. Maybe Purple would know what you are,” he said, scratching her behind her bent ear.

“All right, are you ready for a bath? You want to be nice and clean?”

Half an hour later, the entire bathroom was soaked, he had soap on his pajamas and in his eyes, and dirty water swirled down the drain.

But the crazy dog was clean. Her dusty, dull colored fur had changed to a deep sable mixed with big golden spots.

“That didn’t need to be so hard. We could’ve been done in fifteen minutes, but you had to jump out of the tub a million times!” Splinter stood with his fists on his sides, glaring at a puppy who felt no remorse.

“Even my sons did better when they were your age. Shame on you, young lady!”

She was not shamed. Not even a little. She leapt out of the tub and shook off, flinging water everywhere.

“Ahh!” Splinter grabbed a towel and threw it over her.

He rubbed vigorously, fluffing her fur up. She shook three more times, her way of helping, he supposed.

He dropped the towel and looked around the bathroom.

Everything was wet and covered in dog fur. The puppy was still damp. He wanted to use his blow dryer on her, but he wasn’t sure she’d let him. And he didn’t have the energy to try.

All he wanted was to go back to sleep. He could take care of this mess in the morning.

“Come on, doggy. Bed time.”

Maybe she was tired too, because she followed him to his room without trouble.

He turned on his space heater and pointed it at the bed, hoping it would dry her fur out some.

He climbed under the covers, the puppy snuggling in next to him. He didn’t care what anyone said, he was sleeping until noon tomorrow! He had earned it.

“My sons are going to love you. They’ll forgive us for wrecking the bathroom eventually, right?”

The puppy snored softly in response. Splinter chuckled and rubbed her side.

“Yeah, they will.”