#omg GROSS

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[moonlightdancer26]

One thing that never fails to shock me is how many Marauder stans I’ve seen hating on Draco for saying this line to Hermione in GoF:

“Granger, they’re after Muggles,” said Malfoy. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around . . . they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.”

Yet somehow they can’t apply that same logic to what happened in SWM:

James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants.

Many people in the small crowd watching cheered. Sirius, James, and Wormtail roared with laughter.

I’ve seen Marauder stans who bash Draco and call him horrible for “making a SA joke,” but then go ahead and defend what the Marauders did (which was ACTUAL SA, not just a gross joke) in SWM as if that’s not much worse. The irony is ridiculous.

That’s always confused me because… they can clearly see the harm in a character making a SA joke, but they gloss over or even justify their favourites characters actually doing what said character joked about??? Make it make sense.

[crystallizsch]

boo.

I'LL PASS AWAY NOW GOODBYE

[sammaggs]

It’s blurry because I was shaking so bad and I deeply embarrassed myself I was exceptionally uncool but guys he shook my hand and he said “Thank you Sam” and I looked directly into his eyes at least once so I’m gonna chalk this one up to a WIN

[traceyc-uk]

*Leaves a cauldron cake on your nightstand and waddles away.*

Thank you 🤧 little adorable mystery waddler, he’ll start to feel better soon with this little sweet treat 🫂💙

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[tomb-mold]

looking thru my camera roll from early last year crying throwing up and deleting stuff. so heres some pics from when i thot i was genuinely so happy so slay, before i delete them too

[raihanstrapinch]

Random headcanon: Hirano isn't the biggest fan of green peppers either (he can tolerate them, but they're def not his first choice of vegetable) but he knows that Kagi hates them way more, so he puts on a face of liking them 🫑

[swiftlydnp]

my only takeaway from that was: THESE FUCKERS STEAL CLOTHES FROM EACH OTHER SO MANY TIMES😭😭😭😭😭

[se-agapo-skywalker]

Silence at the Cliffs of Dawn

Celebrating one year of the blog 🥳

CW: age gap (dilf!Luke Skywalker), finger (cybernetic) sucking, oral sex (f! and m! receiving; blowjob/face sitting/69ing)

WC: 3.5k

"...All I ever do is make myself unlikable. You know that," Luke says, "Why do you even bother staying?"

The two of you are laying down in his bed, pressed together tightly to avoid accidentally pushing the other off the already small space--how you managed to convince Luke to let you sleep with him, you have no idea... Of course, you did sleep with him. Your current state of undress is evidence of that; in a move showcasing a rare display of his kindness, he allowed you to hog the majority of the blanket while he chose to rely on the warmth of his nightclothes.

Propping your head up on the pillow, you look at Luke and frown.

"I don't think you do it on purpose... for the most part, anyway," you tease. He raises an unamused eyebrow at you, before shaking his head and letting out a quiet almost-laugh.

"I can't even tell anymore. I guess I've really grown into it."

You fall silent for a moment. "What were you like? Before... When you were a Jedi?"

More silence. The rain outside is just starting to clear up, you notice, but it's still dark out. Luke's features are too dim to fully discern, but even then, you can notice the pain in his eyes... the conflict.

Strangely enough, he laughs. An actual laugh.

"...I looked a lot nicer. Dignified, you know? Not like some hobo hermit living in the middle of nowhere." He sighs. "In all seriousness, though... things were different. I can barely even recognize who I am now, nor can I the man I was before."

"Let me guess..." you smile, trying to picture a younger version of the greying man before you. You've seen the old propaganda posters--shockingly handsome ones, portraying him as the gorgeous golden boy of the Rebellion. "Plenty of admirers? Paramours, even?"

Luke shakes his head with something akin to embarrassment. "People certainly tried, but... that life wasn't for me."

Intrigued, you decide to press even further. "Well, what was? The daring pilot with a life full of adventure, or the wise, contemplative Jedi who liberated entire planets with the wave of his hand?"

"I did my fair share of both, but the truth is far more complicated than that. For a while, I did chase the feeling of being a hero..." His gaze grows distant. Regretful. "But it was all in vain. The people you save get killed. The things you build get destroyed. This galaxy, everything in it, it's all... temporary."

You sit up, blanket sliding off your nude form slightly and catching Luke's attention; as much as he tries to hide it, he can't help the way you affect him. For a moment, you smirk, but with the better view of his face you can see just how tormented he is.

"I mean, the galaxy isn't all that bad... it brought us together, right?"

"But it took so much in the process," Luke mutters in response.

"I-"

"Don't tell me it was worth it. It wasn't."

He moves over onto his back and covers his face with his left hand--hiding tears, no doubt. Tears he isn't yet ready to let you see.

"...The rain is over. You can leave if you wish."

"I'm not leaving," you say, maneuvering yourself over him. Luke peeks up at you through his fingers before you gently grab his hand and move it away from his face. "Not when you need me."

He exhales slowly, sadly, but he makes no move to shove you off him. With your other hand, you brush away the tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

"Let me take care of you, alright?"

Just as Luke instinctively opens his mouth to protest, he immediately concedes, settling back into the pillow. He's old, and he's tired, what use is it trying to fight you off? Besides, he wants this--needs it, he discovered at the onset of the rain--so the last thing he's going to do is stop you.

The room is silent, save for the sound of baited breath, as you finally lean over to kiss him. Using your free hand to stroke the fringe out of his eyes, other hand still holding his, you kiss the lines of his forehead, the bridge of his crooked nose, and finally his lips.

Luke doesn't think he's anything special; you think he's extraordinary. Not for being the hero of your dreams, but for being the man he truly is--as broken and as vulnerable as he may be, he's yours. And that's enough.

Despite the few times you've kissed him, you both take to it like a pikobi to water. You take the lead; his are quite shy, but by the time your lips meet, Luke noticeably relaxes beneath your touch.

His mechanical hand moves to your bare back, tracing the shape of your spine as you arch over him, the texture of the leather glove making you shiver. It moves from your back to your waist, slowly climbing toward your chest, where he graces your nipple with a firm pinch--not hard enough to hurt you, but enough to show his desire. Yes, Luke Skywalker desires you.

Although still sleeping, you can feel the stirrings beneath you as his arousal grows. You're fully awake, restless, hungry. Luke, on the other hand, needs a bit more time, time you're more than willing to give--you know the prize will be worth it.

"Master..." you purr, wiggling your hips slightly as he twitches at the sound of the nickname. "You've seen me. I haven't seen you yet."

"I-I'm nothing worth looking at..."

"You are to me."

Luke moves his cybernetic from the valley of your chest to cradle your face. You silently kiss the palm of his hand, mechanical fingers flexing within the leather, before taking the material between your teeth to pull it off.

"Wait-"

The leather doesn't catch on the metal; instead, it slips off like a raindrop sliding down the stone roof. Luke makes no move to halt its movement. The mechanical fingers are revealed to you, one by one, grey metal glinting in the slivers of moonlight streaming through the window.

"Beautiful..." you whisper, barely loud enough to be audible. But Luke hears you; if he were to respond, he's certain he'd just about cry.

Being linked to his nervous system, he has enough "feeling" in his cybernetic to control its movements and sense external stimuli, but without the synthskin, he can't truly feel. Hence why he barely uses it to touch you, let alone in a sexual context. All you have to do is show him he can.

In a swift motion you barely even stop to ponder, your tongue comes out to explore the metalwork; a metallic flavor--no surprise to you--accompanies the cold, and Luke refrains from flexing his fingers in your mouth.

Stars, he can't even register what you're doing, let alone why you're doing it. He watches you, blue eyes full blown to near-blackness as you suck on his fingers like they were a cock. Speaking of which, his throbs uncomfortably in the confines of his pants. Your movements in his lap feel incredible. Peeking down to look at your bare pussy grinding on him is enough to make him come... well, almost.

You, however, are not a fan of the cloth boundary between you; sure, it adds extra friction, but it's nowhere near as electric of a sensation as skin against skin. You've seen Luke's face, and his flesh hand, and his cock, but that's as far as you've gotten. Is he insecure about being old? It's not a problem to you, and he knows this, but you doubt he's fully internalized it. Being a (former) Jedi Master, you're sure he's covered in scars from the countless battles he's fought in... scars on his arms, his chest, his thighs-

"Y-yes," Luke pants out, seemingly reading your thoughts. "You can..." He can't even finish his sentence, flesh hand moving to grab your free hand and bring it to his clothes.

"Are you sure, Master?"

"Just do it already."

Delicately pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a thin line of spit connecting them to your lips, you pin Luke's right arm over his head, just like he did to yours earlier that night. He looks up at you with a mixture of surprise and arousal, a small smile of disbelief forming on his lips. You have plans--and you can't wait to show him.

The material of his sleep shirt is a rough wool of some kind, the cut of it a simple wrap-tunic similar to his Jedi robes. It gives you easy access to his chest; considering just how much Luke likes yours, you believe it's your turn to enjoy his. Ghosting your fingertips beneath the fabric, he shivers at your touch, and you raise an eyebrow at the texture you discover. Coarse, fuzzy, thick--you hadn't expected him to be just as hairy on his chest as he is on his face, but stars, you aren't complaining.

Luke is just about as red as a gundark by the time you pull his sleep shirt open. Of course, his embarrassment is no match for his stubbornness, which quickly bubbles up again to hide his discomfort. Typical Luke.

"Sure took you long enough."

"It did."

"Now what?"

"You'll see..."

Placing both of your palms flat on his chest, you lean over to kiss him once more; your mouth meets his, and then his neck, where you brand it with a startlingly red hickey. At the same time, you're scratching down his torso and tugging at the greying hairs.

Beneath the layer of fur is a web of tendril-like scars, stretching across his body like lightning. You can't help but wonder what dramatic battle between Jedi and Sith must have caused them... but stars, they're beautiful. You're determined to show him this.

Luke groans against your lips--if he had it his way, stars, he'd flip you over and pound you senseless. But no, he has already done that... and he's tired. Tired physically, tired mentally, tired of being in charge. For once, he'd like to experience what it means for someone to take care of him. Just once.

Taking care of yourself isn't even on your mind. Yes, you're horny beyond belief, skin on fire as you grind your dripping cunt against his still-clothed cock. Force, it isn't enough, it'll never be enough until you get the real thing. But... you want to try something different. You have a feeling he might want to as well.

"Where are you-" Luke begins to ask as you reluctantly pull yourself off him, only to be cut off by you running your fingers down his happy trail before shoving your hand down his pants. "Shavit, sweetheart!"

"Who are you calling sweetheart?" you smile, enjoying the thrill of feeling him before seeing him. His cock is hot and heavy in your palm, and much to your delight he neglected to wear any undergarments. As much as you enjoy the groans that escape his lips at the way you run your thumb over the already leaking tip, the devious part of you desires to tease him even more; removing your hand from his member, you move to squeeze his tightening balls.

"Fuck... fuck..." Luke moans. He's gripping the sheets with his cybernetic, flesh hand resting over the upper half of his face.

"Such language, Master... and such a light touch, too," you say, "I'm starting to worry you won't last for me."

When Luke finally manages to look out from under his hand, there's something strange in his eyes--lust, desire, conviction. To do what, you don't know.

"Sit on me."

"Are you sure? I don't think you're ready-"

"Not my cock. My face."

Now it's your turn to be surprised. All this teasing, all this bossing him around, yet he can't help but turn the tables and remind you who's in charge. That damn Skywalker is impossible to figure out, but you wouldn't have it any other way--in all honesty, that's why you're here. Why you stayed, even when he tried to push you away.

"Very well, Master... but I want a taste of you as well."

Before maneuvering to climb over him, you pull his trousers off his legs in one swift motion, his cock standing at full attention as it springs from its confines. Fuck, just the sight of it is enough to make you want to bounce on it until you're both sweaty and screaming. But not yet.

Your eyes are just keen enough to notice the way Luke blushes at you eyeing him up in the dim light. Stars, he is hairy--not that you're complaining, of course. You just didn't expect the wise old Jedi master to practically be a Wookiee beneath his clothes. He squirms a little under the intensity of your gaze, cock twitching in anticipation. A bead of precum glistens in the faint moonlight and dribbles down the veiny shaft... Licking your lips, you decide to do something about it.

Luke steadies you with his arms as you maneuver to climb over him. Soft apologies and awkward giggles are traded between the two of you as you try to figure out your bearings, metal hand accidentally pinching soft flesh and weight being distributed uncomfortably, but not painfully.

"I-I've never done this before," you breathe out, breaking your previously seductive demeanor.

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Luke's low voice chuckles, "but I think as long as you don't break my neck, we're doing it right."

Your current predicament involves you straddling his neck and facing his chest; you're bent over him, just barely hovering over his face, and his hands are gripping the soft flesh of your ass. The cybernetic in particular digs into your skin in a deliciously painful way, and you know it'll leave marks after--marks you'll wear with pride. Not that anyone other than him will be seeing them.

Luke quite enjoys the view he's getting--it takes practically all his willpower not to pull you down onto his face and go to town, damn the consequences (although a sprained neck at his age in the middle of nowhere is most certainly a bad idea). After having gotten a taste of your pussy before, he's insatiable; he'll do anything to get his fix.

Balancing your weight on your knees and your forearms, you lean forward to assess your target. The slight upward curve of his cock gives you easy access to it; licking down his happy trail, you nuzzle through wiry hairs before greeting his aching, impatient member. The Jedi Master may be able to hide his impatience beneath his actions and his demeanor, but, given his anatomy, his body can't.

Leaning forward, you greedily stick out your tongue to lap up the bead of precum already leaking out. It's... salty, and slightly bitter. You're still not sure about the taste, but it's him, so you want it.

Luke groans beneath you at the feeling of your tongue on him. The vibrations from his voice dance cruelly on your clit, the phantom of pleasure yet to come--before he finally grants you mercy and pulls you down onto his waiting lips.

The gasp that escapes your lips is muffled by you taking him in your mouth to gag yourself on his cock. He felt so massive when he was inside you, but like this... you almost can't handle it. Figuratively, and literally--you stop right before he hits the back of your throat, taking in just enough to really drive him wild without hurting yourself.

Luke drowns his moans in your soaking cunt, his noises and the movement of his hands beckoning you to start moving on his face.

Come on, sweetheart, his voice says in the back of your mind--another Jedi ability, you're sure. You won't hurt me.

Hips and mouth begin a slow, rhythmic pace on him. You can't help the way you tremble ever so slightly, unsure about the pressure of your movements or the depth of your strokes, but that anxiety becomes an afterthought as your senses dissolve into pure pleasure.

Luke fights the temptation to start bucking into your mouth--no, you've been far too good to him, you don't deserve to be treated in such a way. You're his angel, his saving grace, the being he isn't even worthy of touching (yet somehow is). Whatever he did to earn your affection, he wants to repay tenfold--you're his to use as you please.

He uses his tongue on you with as much fervor and hunger as he did earlier that night, if not even more. The taste of you on his lips lights a fire in the pit of his stomach and fully has him drunk on your essence. Reverently Luke alternates between fucking you with his tongue and swirling it around your clit, just as you alternate between sucking and stroking his shaft.

It's so wrong, a master and student behaving like this... Your cheeks flush at the utter indulgence of the act. Whatever afterlife the Jedi of old reside in, you can only hope they aren't witnessing your liaison.

Luke, however, doesn't give a fuck. He hasn't given one in quite some time--why should he live by the rules of the dead? That dogma nearly destroyed him. It ruined everything he ever cared about, everything he never allowed himself to truly love. No, "attachment" was forbidden. Anything that could become a pathway to the dark side was to be shunned.

Luke never understood how for so much of his Jedi training, so much of his life, his emotions were regarded as an inseparable part of him, passion and love he had harnessed to help countless others during the war. That all changed when he saved his father. He had defied Obi-Wan and Yoda's instruction to kill Anakin; therefore, his feelings were misguided, wrong. And it became his duty to suppress them.

But not anymore. He is no longer a Jedi, not in the way he was "meant" to be. He's just Luke, just a hermit, just an old man learning to love again--or, perhaps, learning to love for the very first time.

Luke's cock twitches and kicks in your mouth, threatening to spill at any moment. Teasingly, you pull him out of your mouth--earning a harsh groan into your cunt--to kiss the swollen, purple head.

"Oh, master..." you whisper, tracing his veins with your fingertips, "let go for me. I'm here, I'm ready."

A final squeeze of his balls urges him to finish on your tongue--and, capturing him in your mouth once more, he does. Spurts of hot liquid spill inside you, albeit in a different spot than before, and you choke slightly on the sheer load of it all. You're milking Luke for all he's worth, and he rewards you by practically breeding your mouth. Hips stutter and still as he calms down and starts to soften, so you slip him out of your mouth, gracing the overstimulated head with a final lick.

Your clit throbs at the taste of him cumming in your mouth, the knot forming within your belly signaling your own impending release. Beneath you, Luke is patiently at work drawing it out, exploring the depths of your sacred spot with his tongue. Now you're fully free to ride his face with reckless abandon--a task he encourages you to do with the guidance of his hands squeezing your thighs and groping your ass.

"Luke... Luke..." you moan, letting the sound freely escape your now unoccupied lips. No 'Master,' no titles or nicknames, just his name; his true name, the one he hasn't heard anyone call him in the past six years. If your senses are correct, coupled with the scratchy sensation of his beard, you can feel him smiling into you as he eats you out. He's positively making out with your cunt, kissing you just as he had kissed your other set of lips when you first came to him.

The orgasm that approaches is entirely unlike the one you experienced before; it approaches slowly, like a wave off the coast of the Temple Island, growing and growing in intensity before finally crashing against the shore. You buck your hips on his face, feeling the friction of his beard against your clit as you chase the delicious sensation bubbling beneath the surface.

Soon enough, Luke grants it; your Force bond burns white-hot as you tremble and come undone on his face, slicking his beard with juices he laps up as happily as a massiff. You're sure the cries that escape your lips are audible all the way in the Caretaker village. Luke chuckles beneath you, large hands--the ones that surely left bruises on your skin--coming up to help you slide off his face and into his lap.

Silence. No more rain. Just beyond the cliffs, the twin suns of Ahch-To begin to rise; much like the dawns of his youth, you imagine. You turn your gaze to your new lover's face as the first slivers of light stream through the opening of the window.

"That was..." you start, laughing breathlessly as you run your fingers through your hair.

Luke props himself up on his elbows, wiping his face with his flesh hand. A rare smile appears on his face.

"...Good. Very good."

[bougiebutchbinch]

Any time I see the words 'canyon' being used derogatorily, I am forcibly reminded that many people wilfully choose to ignore that the 'canyon' started because of the massive block walls fans who dared even so much as voice appreciation for Izzy as a character had to put up so they weren't relentlessly harassed or doxxed and could enjoy the tags without being told they were evil for liking a morally grey character who dared (the horror!!!!) get in the way of the fan favorite ship.

If anyone who hates on Izzy Appreciators complains about canyon attitudes and how they seclude themselves from the main fandom, you have to ask yourself...... well, and whose fault is that? why were they forced to do that in the first place? hmm? :)

[sevikagf]

you went out of your way to help us - where I failed miserably to do so. thank you. and i’m sorry.

[cowardlycowboys]

ugly old man online you are forced to pick an icon that is normal or you will die do you choose:

a) a character or animal

b) stupid facebook quote about pleasuring women

or

c) a close up of your gross little mouth

choose wisely your life is on the line

[nerissalmao]

The Sexualization of Octolings

Hey y’all! My friend Ray suggested this lil thread essay post whatever it’s called, and I figured it would make perfect sense to do. I’ve never really made an in-depth Splatoon post before, but I’m not afraid to try. Today’s topic is.. the sexualization of Octolings.

We all know Octolings. We all think they’re cute and fun and cool, but they’re just so.. you know.. sexy. That’s not a bad thing, but it seems like it’s their whole entire species which is literally sexualized and shown in midriff-baring, skimpy outfits. I mean, come on guys. When Callie, the most wholesome Inkling around, briefly joins the Octo Party, she’s suddenly turned into the hottest dominatrix-looking rigid icon ever (a number of my friends started to crush on her after that).

It’s definitely not just Callie. We all know Marina, guys. I don’t even have to show you images to prove what she looks like, her and her love for crop tops. And Marina, as we all know, is an ex-member of the Octarian army, like all Octolings.. like Agent 8, whose Octo Expansion outfit was on the sexy side with a crop top and high-heeled little booties. And who later in Side Order wears a form-fitting bodysuit that shows off their midriff and causes several Splatoon players to meme the fact that their backside seems to be lookin’ large to death. Why is it that Marina and Eight, who used to be in the army, have sexualized attire even now? And when Callie linked up with them, she too was wearing a shirt that in certain poses accentuates her chest, and pants so loose-fitting you can see her actual underwear.

Have you seen the enemy Octoling’s outfits? Yes, they’ve got on armor, but it’s stylized as crop tops and short shorts. Not to mention that most of the enemy Octolings present as or resemble females, and their armor has the age-old shoddy trope of having extra panels for their breasts. They’ve got little booties too and look more like a dancing glam squad or sexualized warrior cosplay than actual warriors, but this is just a design choice and doesn’t affect the way they fight. A pretty weird design choice for a game like Splatoon if you ask me.

I find this very bizarre and random. Because it seems that the entire Octoling enemy brigade has some level of sexiness to them, especially the females. Every single one. But wait on a second. There’s two Octolings we haven’t covered yet. Shiver, an Octoling, has an outfit no more racier than Frye, her Inkling co-star’s. And Acht’s outfit may have a questionable thigh slit, but that’s nowhere near the typical belly-button-bearing short shorts of the Octarian army. That seems to make my theory seem dumb, huh?

Not in the slightest. See, Acht was never in the Octarian army’s fighting unit with the rest of the girlies (they were in the army and wore the same uniform, but as they were never on the front lines they seemed to be able to wear it differently, tilting it so their midriff wasn’t easily seen and wearing a bracelet instead of those tight gloves). As for Shiver, she was born into a clan of Octolings long separated from the other Octarians. Agent 8 on the other hand was once an Octarian warrior, as was Marina (she was later promoted though, but even so along with other enemy Octoling warriors was there during Octavio’s fight with Agent 3), and Callie was turned into one briefly, or something like one, despite her being an Inkling. It seems all the sexualized Octolings were once on the front lines strutting their stuff while fighting. So why is this?

Well, here’s my theory added onto another random semi-theory that I am here to share with you all. You see, in Japanese, the enemy Octolings, preferably the ones you fight, are called “Octo-Amazons”, and the Amazons are legendary female warriors. So perhaps DJ Octavio knew what he was doing with this, and it’s a sort of empowerment move that perhaps the masculine Octolings work on maintenance jobs or something given we never see them, whereas most feminine Octolings are fighters with their female-ness put on blatant display, waggling their little hips as they jump in to do battle with the Inklings. And this practice is so well-known among Octolings that those formerly in the army still tend to gravitate towards more revealing clothes even when they are free. Just a penny for your thoughts, Splatoon community.

[what-a-creative-user-nana]

Kai: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Lloyd will and will not eat. Jay: Grass? Yes! Kai: Moss? Yes!! Jay: Leaves? Ohh, yes! Kai: Shoelaces? Strange but true! Jay: Worms? Sometimes! Kai: Rocks? Usually nah. Jay: Twigs? Usually! Kai: Cole's cooking? Inconclusive! Zane: How did you… test this? Kai: You just hand them stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if they eat it, they eat it. Zane: ... I don’t know how to feel about this. Cole: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

[miaoqing]

i was like mm let me scroll through the binghe tag to look at all the art of him. why don't i do that more often. but i was immediately reminded that it's because i get so overwhelmed by how pretty he is that i just start crying