#sometimes i have... thoughts

[cartoonsinthemorning]

Since you guys liked Marcille as Kermit that much, it seems fitting to thank you for my 12k milestone with MORE Kercille. And this time, Miss Falin is also here.

Thank you so much again everybody! MWAH 💗

[spyglassrealms]

had a fucking hilarious dream that tumblr replaced the "block" function with the far funnier "glock" function, which did the exact same thing except whenever anyone blocked you a random bullet hole, like a png of a bullet hole, would appear on your blog. discourse blogs were unreadable bc you'd go to the page and the sheer amount of bullet hole pngs stacked over the blogs obscured everything. I woke myself up laughing

[andi-o-geyser]

a full SAGA of chaos choices at the diner in the centre of your mind

[colourmeastonished]

Body swap movie where one of them has invisible disabilities and when the other one lands in their body they immediately collapse catatonic on the floor from the pain and fatigue and the first one is like 'oh damn guess I don't have to worry that I'm faking it anymore'

[clarisse-doodles]

inspired by this post, in which Damian does not know what Vine is

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[nic-is-the-worst]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Soup solves everything.

[clownowo]

been replaying the Portal series I think this is where its heading

[hinamie]

corvidae

[idolomantises]

Man is it just me or are a lot of TV shows nowadays are written to have big emotional episodes in scenes with very little build up.

[bi-writes]

thinking about being a new lieutenant working with laswell and getting to meet her a-team, tf141, and immediately clashing with your equivalent. that other lieutenant that wears a fucking costume and glares whenever he sees you, simon fucking riley. (kinda dark, 18+)

you hate him. you hate how good he does in the field. it sickens you when you see how every knife he throws hits its target with disgustingly perfect accuracy. you sneer when he aims his rifle, each bullet going exactly where he wants it to go because he's that fucking good, look at him, big man with a big fucking head and a big--

god, it's so frustrating to be out here for so long. on a cot, so far away from everything, reporting back to laswell and then spending time with a task force who is so intelligent on the field but shares one fucking brain cell off of it.

and it's so lonely. it's so lonely, and you feel so far away, and when you show up in front of ghost's room that evening, you don't even exchange words as he steps aside, letting you slink into the dark of it. you don't speak as he crowds you against the door, as he pushes you up against it, when he reveals the lower half of his face so he can kiss you and taste you in every way he's wanted to since he met you. you're so fucking annoying, you crawl under his skin, and when he tastes you, he sucks, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth as he tugs his cargo pants just under his cock and hoists you up around his waist.

it's just stress relief, you tell yourself as he fucks you against the rattling door. i just need a little relief, is what you say to yourself as he mumbles against yours lips, gripping the fat of your hips in his big hands and putting his cock to good use. he's not gentle, but you don't want him to be. he's too good at what he does, you were hoping he would have fault in one fucking area of his life, but even like this, he shows you just how well he fucks and just how big he really is, everywhere.

please, please, please--! you beg. he snickers, and it's mean, and he's sucking a warm bruise into your neck when he mutters, "tha'sit, swee'eart. we both know who's really in charge, eh? yeah--yeah, good girl--y'r such a good girl--"

and you are. cum soaked thighs, your mouth still on his when he finally comes, grunting as he fills you so full, it's dripping onto your thighs, onto his, dampening the clothes neither of you bothered to take off. and when you leave, you tell yourself this will never happen again, that ghost will keep this a secret because he hates you just as much, that ghost is discreet and quiet and values his privacy, and if you don't speak of this again, neither will he. it suddenly comforts you how closed off he is.

so it does surprise you when the next morning comes, and you go to sit with your team to eat, that ghost snarls when you try and take a seat beside him. you expect this to be a rude gesture, but you squeak when he grips you around the waist and forces you into his lap. you stiffen, but his sergeants barely bat an eye. the braid of your hair is yanked backwards, and you gasp when you feel his breath against your ear, even through the mask.

"the casual shaggin' sort of deal? not m'thing, luvvie. now eat y'r breckie, swee'eart, 'm fuckin' hungry, and 'm not very patient."

he used to think having one of his sergeant's underneath him was the kind of power-play that got him right off.

wrong.

nothing like fucking a pretty little lieutenant good enough she can't fucking remember how to speak.

[fluffymoonrocks]

I want to feminize a pre-HRT transfem so badly... I want to take a cute, silly little thing and give her all the hormones she could need. I want to buy cute clothes for her, and teach her everything I know about girling. I want to see her change firsthand, bit by bit, as she becomes more confident and more comfortable with her body. I want to watch her body grow, to feel her breasts, her thighs, hips grow, and her skin soften over the months. I want to make sure she feels loved and respected at every step of the way, to reward her every milestone and her every victory. I want to change her life for the better...

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

There is something I absolutely loathe about fashion content on the whole.

"What is your color season? Buy a whole new wardrobe." - I assure you that I am not throwing out perfectly good things I already have.

"Find your aesthetic and build a whole wardrobe around it" - again, this involves getting rid of things and buying new ones.

"Instead of buying this sweater, buy one that is pure wool." - I have news for you about how affordable pure wool is.

"Just go thrifting!" - Thrifting is not the gold mine that people seem to think it is. A lot of influencers are getting lucky because they live in cities where there is a relatively high turnover of stock at the thrift store. My average thrift store visit ends with me buying one or two things that 1. I like. 2. Are reasonably priced for the condition they're in. 3. Are actually my size.

If I had to sum up my irritation with this, it's that a lot of fashion content (and interior design from what I've seen) is that it is built on the idea that your life should have a unified aesthetic. But I would wager that most people have pieces and parts of different aesthetics cobbled together across different periods of their life. And there's nothing wrong with that. You don't have to start over every time your "aesthetic" shifts a bit.

[theashesofthefirststar]

“Charles has two hands!” yeah and they’re both cradling Edwin’s face.

[puppyeared]

horrible truth bomb dropped on my head 20 min ago