#toothpick case

[milo-is-rambling]

Finally liking my window set up I think I’ve mastered it with the ac finally

[finnprof]

uh-oh

[bruttoarchives]

sophie buhai, toothpick and case

[dimipea]

Apoptosis

8x15" (6x12" plate), Copperplate intaglio aquatint, 2024

process, plate and artist statement under the cut:

Artist statement: 'Apoptosis' refers to the apoptosis (controlled cell death) that caterpillars experience when they pupate. Without a caterpillar's juvenile hormone, this process could occur at any time before they chrysalize, killing them. Once inside a chrysalis, apoptosis occurs as the caterpillar digests itself, and the remaining imaginal discs become its legs, wings, antennae, eyes and genitals. Metamorphosis is frequently used as an allegory for change and growth, but the more gruesome details of these changes are often left unexamined. The chrysalises depicted in 'Apoptosis' have all "failed" in one way or another, some from disease, some parasitized, others forever stuck between caterpillar and chrysalis. Apoptosis is also phonetically reminiscent of apotheosis, used to describe something's apex, ascension or rebirth; an ironic description given that the chrysalises have all died mid-way through their transformation. The linework and aquatint are delicate and sensitive to highlight the beauty of the chrysalises and their attempts. The scale of the chrysalises is kept quite small, so one could imagine cradling them in their hands, emphasizing their fragility. The chrysalises are "failures," but they are still brought up to our eye level, subverting the way we typically look down on bugs from an often literal sense due to the difference in scale. 'Apoptosis' explores an anxiety around growth and change and the failure and pain associated with it while avoiding condemning the subjects of that failure.

[sol-consort]

Holy mother of size difference

Oh wow

[starrynightarchive]

my sister is having her first hyperfixation and it's fucking chess. why tf did she have to watch queen's gambit and not like naruto or smth.

[mekatrio]

bridge to turnabout's fanservice was so good it fooled everyone into thinking it was a well-written murder case when it really truly was Not

[sir-walter-elliot]

Dear Sir Walter,

We know you love mirrors in your house. Do you carry pocket mirrors too, for spot checks of your appearance?

They are essential. However, there are only so many items one can carry on one's person while still maintaining a sleek silhouette in one's clothing, so I ensure that everything I carry is made of the finest smooth silver upon which I can look to check my appearance, such as my pocket watch and case for my cards. In addition, I had a custom toothpick case made with a mirror within the lid, and this comes with me always.

[rainbowstargazerlilies]

Can we get some fic scene reenactments using the little mechs?

Of course! Once I get more Mechs together, definitely. Until then, here’s some pics of the Lyf and Marius dolls in various positions, all story inspired.

[jigenstits]

Idea that the reason Lupin looks so skinny is because due to his fast metabolism as well as his habit of constantly losing a substantial amount of weight during the planning of heists, either due to poor self care, or intentionally starving himself to properly fit through vents if needed, Lupin actually has a terrible time holding his own body weight no matter how much he eats. As a result he’s actually a couple of pounds underweight. It looks exceptionally worse during heists because he actually looks emaciated afterwards to the point it’s actually kinda worrisome how skinny he looks.

tw // eating disorder, ED, anorexia i thiiink? (idk what other keywords people might blacklist for this oops)

oh yeah definitely feel like lupin has had a weird relationship with eating in general? not necessarily an eating disorder in the mental sense, he just more forgets to eat alot of the time

jigen is somewhat concerned about his weight, whenever he sees him naked he realizes how skinny this mf is and silently worries about it

[astronomalyy]

GHRRRHH!

RRHAOWRRH!

[stilltoolazy]

shout-out to our favourite snarky toothpick man for reminding me of an old habit/stim that I stopped because my parents didn't like their kid constantly running around with something sort-of sharp in their mouth (fair) but which will definitely save my teeth from all the sugar and what not in the hard candies and gum I've been using instead

maybe I will manage to finish this damn thesis after all

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

@catchuuu @staryukis

butch gojo again

[kit-the-gaygent]

Mafia leader who runs a really cute bento lunch box blog

[ryanguzmanscowlick]

The thing is, Tommy’s worried about Evan coming over to his house for the first time. He’s seen Evan’s loft. It’s all clean lines, modern appliances and details. What little sentimental odds and ends he owns are tucked away or so subtle than Tommy didn’t spot them the first couple of times he came over.

Tommy’s house, by contrast, is filled with the detritus one accumulates when they’ve gone no contact with everyone related to them and they’re trying to create a homey, family atmosphere out of thrift stores and the Pottery Barn catalogue instead of friends and family.

He’s a knick-knacker, an antique furniture collector, a throw pillow and afghan fanatic.

He doesn’t have much in the way of books, but he has shelves and shelves of notebooks, some full, some half-used, some untouched. It’s a habit he picked up when his first ever therapist (after he left the 118) coaxed him into writing everything down to make a little sense of the mess of contradictions, phobias, old prejudices, prejudices still clinging on and traumas that made it feel impossible to figure out what to talk about first when he sat down in that office.

There’s a small, awkward section of wall in his kitchen created when a previous owner of the house decided to add a laundry room (embarrassingly, his favorite room in the house for it’s sheer utility) and that’s where Tommy hangs his collection of coffee mugs. Some of them are Goodwill finds, some souvenirs, some band merch or creations by local artists he picked up at some market or other.

There’s five different varieties of protein powder constantly cluttering his kitchen counter because he ran out of room in the small pantry. His pots and pans hang over the tiny, rolling kitchen island, which is itself nearly taken over by a serving tray that holds his water filter, a candle, a decorative planter filled with his cooking utensils, a plastic case of toothpicks.

He still has a dvd collection, for heaven’s sake, and it takes up most of his sagging entertainment center. He should replace it, but it’s the first piece of furniture he ever restored and he’s having trouble letting go. Speaking of letting go, there’s a dog bed in the corner for a dog that passed away nearly ten months ago. He probably will at least hide that in a closet before Evan gets here.

Because he is coming over. No matter how nervous Tommy is, he’s not gonna come up with another excuse for why they have to postpone or meet at Evan’s instead. He gets the feeling he’s already made Evan a little wary, and with Evan’s relationship history and his fear of being too much, not enough, just left, Tommy will eat his own foot before he purposely exacerbates Evan’s fears.

If Evan looks around and decides Tommy is a hoarder or a slob or a million other nasty epithets Tommy’s brain is offering up like some cruel, self-sabotaging buffet- Well, they’ll talk about it. They’ll learn and adjust. Evan has never, ever been cruel to Tommy and it’s quite frankly laughable that he would start now.

That’s what Tommy tells the rogue half of his brain trying to rain on their parade. Another thing he picked up from his therapist - name the part of you that spews negative self-talk and talk back to it. Predictably, Tommy named his Vince. Shut the fuck up, Vince.

Evan’s shift ended twenty minutes ago and Tommy has chili on the stove keeping warm. Between showering and the drive over, Evan should be due at his door in another twenty-five or so. Tommy hides the dog bed, lights the kitchen candle, tries to find things to do with his hands so he doesn't watch the time like a hawk. They’ve had conflicting shifts for almost two weeks with only stolen moments and half-asleep kisses in between. Tommy misses his boyfriend. But a watched clock never ticks, or whatever.

His strategy works, because Evan’s knock on the front door actually startles him a little from the stack of unopened mail he’s sorting through. So many flyers for what feels like every home decor and craft store in the state.

Evan’s eyes are gentle and joyful when Tommy answers the door. “Hey.” He leans in to squeeze Tommy’s bicep and press a kiss to the wing of his cheek. Tommy can feel Evan’s mouth stretch into a smile against his skin.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Tommy wiggles his fingers under the strap of Evan’s duffel to take it from him and steps aside to let him into the house. His heart thuds in his chest.

Evan surrenders his bag and steps into Tommy’s home for the first time. If he notices Tommy holding his breath, he doesn’t comment yet.

He takes a look around while Tommy tries to look anywhere but his face. He doesn’t want to let on that he’s being a complete lunatic about this, that he let his anxiety take over for the better part of the day.

When Evan turns around to face Tommy again and slides his hands over Tommy’s waist, presses his fingers into Tommy’s back, nudging them closer together, his smile has split into a full grin. Tommy can’t help reflexively smiling in return. He can feel his cheeks flooding with warmth. It should be embarrassing that Evan still makes Tommy blush at the drop of a hat even all these months later, but if it helps Evan know deep in his bones that Tommy is gone for him, Tommy wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“It looks like you.” Evan draws his hands up and down Tommy’s torso in gentle strokes. “Cozy. Warm. Like…” He trails off and bites his lip, drops his eyes to Tommy’s chest.

Tommy hooks his fingers under Buck’s chin and lifts his gaze back up until their eyes meet in a move that’s become so routine it’s pretty much an inside joke between them. “Like what? Don’t leave me hanging.”

It’s Evan turn to flush a deep pink. He takes an unsteady breath in. “L-like home.”

An immense weight lifts off Tommy’s chest so quickly it almost steals his breath, but Evan has tensed up just a fraction, so Tommy hums softly, spreads his big hands over Buck’s wide shoulders and digs his fingers in to massage the tension back out. He slides deeper into Evan’s space to take his mouth in a chaste, lingering kiss, and he murmurs against his lips. “Glad to hear it.”

[an-extraordinary-fate]

So I agree with Lady Susan being the person most capable of planning and executing a plot, but there’s something really perverse about Robert Ferrars using his toothpick that resides in his beloved toothpick case to murder someone in a fit of pique. A tiny prick from a tiny prick that results in death? Sorry not sorry for the overuse of puns. He’s more likely to accidentally do himself in with bacteria from not cleaning his toothpick and case.