#the function of this place

[aphel1on]

There are a lot of potential ways to interpret this line but I rarely see people talk about it compared to the more specific desire/knowledge she lost (fixing her hair). Personally I think it would be both funny and angsty to explore post-canon Marcille struggling with impulse control

[ups3tti]

Sometimes I think about how Kai made his way out of an inferno by accepting that being the green ninja wasn't meant for him but that didn't make him any lesser while Morro died in an inferno because he couldn't let go of the idea of being the green ninja and viewed it as his only source of worth. And then I lose it a little

[rasoyas]

@captain-silvera’s fantastic builds have me sobbing on my knees in thanks 🙏 komorebi has never looked more beautiful! 🌸

[cubbihue]

Peri's no good terrible bad day just seems to get worse and worse!

Timmy's hoping his baby brother didn't hear the whole conversation. But with that expression on his face, Timmy suspects it may be a bit too late for him. Timmy's companion scurried away as soon as he noticed Poof. A Pixie can sense drama and conflict from miles away.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Instability: [Previous] > [Next]

[bigfatbreak]

WHATS YOUR ANGLE, DUDE

[puckinghischier]

I’m a firm believer that quinn would be the kind of boyfriend who’d use the pink sugar lip balm you left at his apartment bc he misses you and bc it smells good

you’d meet up with him for lunch or something, not having seen him in a few days due to each of your crazy schedules, and you’d notice his lips looked a little…shinier than usual.

he’d give you a quick peck in greeting, noticing the tacky nature and slight sweetness of his lips, but just thinking he lathered them in flavored vaseline or something, knowing how dry his lips get during the season from all the exposure to the cold temps.

during lunch you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but his glossy lips. and how they almost looked…pinker than usual. all the staring would have you realizing your own lips seem dry, fishing around in your purse for your trusty lip balm.

“what’re you looking for, honeybee?” he’d ask while signing the receipt the waiter had just brought, hearing you let out a frustrated huff, your favorite tube of lip gloss nowhere to be found.

“can’t find my lip balm. s’my favorite one, too,” you mumble out, still searching, determined to find it.

“oh! is it this one? you left it at my apartment, in the bathroom,” your head snapped up, seeing the small, pink tube in-between his fingers.

relief washes over you. you were worried you were going to have to go buy a whole new tube, not wanting to spend another $25 when you had just bought that one a couple of weeks ago.

“yes! that’s it! thanks, q,” you happily take the tube from his fingers and apply a thin layer of the tacky ointment to your lips. when you taste the familiar, sweet flavor, the same you tasted on quinn’s lips when you first sat down to eat, it’s like a light bulb went off.

you look up at your boyfriend, the slight shine to his lips still present, even after eating a meal.

“quinn…why did you-” you start, staring at the pink tint to his lips, making sure you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing. “are you wearing my lipgloss?” you finally ask him, a hint of amusement in your voice.

quinn’s cheeks instantly flush. “well…when i found it i didn’t know what it was and took the cap off to smell it, and it smelled really good. then i figured out it was lip gloss and it was pink sugar flavored, so i put some on my lips to see what it tasted like,” he shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “plus i missed you, and it tasted like your kisses, so i kept wearing it. it makes my lips really soft, though.”

you fight the urge to laugh, ginding it adorable he likes wearing your lip gloss because he misses you.

“guess we need to get you your own tube, then, don’t we? because i love you, but i’m not sharing mine,” you tell him, watching his head raise in excitement, bright eyes latched onto yours.

“really?” he eagerly asks you.

you shake your head at him. “mhmm. if it’s pink sugar gloss you want, it’s pink sugar gloss you get. c’mon, we have a pit stop to make on the way home,” you stand, arranging the signed receipt and tip where the server could see it.

quinn bolts out of his own chair, practically skipping over to you in happiness.

when you walk out of the beauty store 20 minutes later, three tubes of pink sugar lip balm richer, you laugh at how quinn all but runs to the car, sitting down in the drivers seat and flipping the mirror down, applying the sweet salve to his lips.

“how do i look,” he turns his head towards you, puckering his lips dramatically.

you giggle at the action, loving how excited he is to have his own lip gloss to wear. “sweet enough to kiss,” you respond through your laugh.

the words earn you another small kiss, feeling the tackiness of both of your lips smearing together, tasting the sweetness he said reminded him of your kisses.

he gives you a toothy grin before settling back in and starting the car, ready to go back to his apartment and spend the rest of his day off with you. he pauses right before he merges into traffic, though.

“just…do me favor,” he looks over at you, almost worried looking. “don’t tell guys about this,” he references his teammates, knowing they’d have a lot to say about their captain wearing matching lip gloss with his girl.

“wouldn’t dream of it, sugar lips,” you wink at him, earning a small groan from him, another laugh erupting out of you.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

My Lawyer is going to Get Your Ass.

[First] Prev <���-> Next

[fizzytoo]

a gift shop in granite falls

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”

[monkesupreme]

Maybe i SHOULD draft out my ‘Clark is a SuperPlant’ propaganda post

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Easily Overlooked Autistic Traits

Situational Mutism

Special interests

Comfort items

Missing social cues

Sensory issues

Executive function problems

Lil Penguin Studios/Autism Happy Place

[naamahdarling]

You know what? You know what I think?

I think that if we lived as we were meant to, in larger intimate ("extended family") groups and with more shared labor and time to do it (UBI NOW) people like me would not feel so useless and burdensome because there would be people around to help and to do what neurodivergent people can't while making valuable space for the neurodivergent to do what they ARE good at.

The way we live right now, all right, the way we live right now forces units of two adults to be able to do EVERYTHING or PAY to have someone come do it for them. I have to do the housework. I have to do it! But I am having to do a million different things and most of them I am not good at. I suck at them.

I wouldn't feel like shit, okay, if I had more than one other person around who was not a child and who could do the things I can't, like do the yard and cook and do repairs and basic maintenance; and someone else to split everything else that I like but is too much for me. It would free me to do what I am good at and enjoy. Cleaning, as in the sink and toilet, the windows, the blinds. Taking out trash. Folding, hanging, and sorting laundry.

But because all the shit I can do often relies on other shit being done first, and I can't do or have trouble doing those things, the shit I can do often can't be done. And even the shit I can do, I can't do ALL of it. So I can't keep up, and things get very bad.

We aren't meant to live like this. We are not meant to live like this.

That thought hurts so much because being able to flee the birth family is integral to survival for so many people. I'm so afraid that living in larger family groups would create more opportunities for, say, queer kids to be isolated, rejected, bullied, and abused. But if we gave people enough money to survive, and stopped considering children the property of their parents with no system in place to help them escape bad situations except a system that is often just as bad, just different.

I'm aware that communes and collectives aren't all that successful and are kind of a joke. I don't mean that. I mean a fundamental shift to multigenerational families where taking in "strays" (which my family did) is also normalized so people escaping abuse into existing households was accepted, with these families centered in maybe a couple of different larger residences so not everyone has to buy and maintain their own fucking washing machine and vacuum cleaner, and so people can benefit from large group meals that yield leftovers, and so child and elder care can also be centralized.

Then disabled people and the neurodivergent and sick and injured people, and pregnant people, and grieving people, would not have to either labor through all those stressors or consign themselves to living off an unlivable pittance or being put under legal guardianship.

I'm not saying anything new. People live like this in other parts of the world and maybe it sucks and I am wrong. But I'm just really mad right now because I can either do laundry or clean the sink but not both, and I really think we could improve society somewhat by making it so I did not have to choose one without sacrificing the other.

[claraoswalds]

The Girl Who Died // Hell Bent

[applestruda]

Made a bluesky acc o7

[ancestral-steppe]

kid icarus uprising promotional float, 2011

(pictures from famitsu, original article now deleted)

[mocking-the-bird]

bet you didn't see that coming