#Test Point Coupling

[midseo]

Pipe Clamps, Aluminum Series Pipe Clamp, Rail Nut Pipe Clamps, India

Manufacturer and Supplier of Pipe Clamps, Aluminum Series Pipe Clamp, Rail Nut Pipe Clamps, Mumbai, India.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Penelope's final gambit, you will always be famous, no matter the subtext.

[zylphiacrowley]

Love.

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[willthespy]

Yes, I use solangelo for all my little drawing experiments. What about it?

EDIT: this looks like the fucking propaganda posters that they throw at you in history class... i might have accidentally created solangelo propaganda, i fear

[shepcdr]

if the events of m.ass effect 1 were not so time-constrained. shepard would spend the majority of it having the time of his life on pinnacle station

[fagbearentertainment]

My mom also got me one of those bootleg copies ppl make of ds games of partners in times I’m so excited to play it

[purble-turble]

Would Demon King Red ever be able to overpower/restrain Wukong?

I'm curious because MK and Wukong have very similar powers and whatever worked on MK could potentially work on Wukong as well. Granted, DKR probably needs Macaque's help with that too.

There are definitely ways to subdue Sun Wukong. Canonically in JTTW, he gets captured numerous times and has to be either rescued or released by someone else.. Even in the Monkie Kid show he has been captured, like by the Spider Queen in the season 2 special. He’s also not immune to many mystical artifacts such as the calabash, the diamond snare, and he even is weak to the Samadhi Fire. So yeah, it’s absolutely possible to take down Sun Wukong… you just need to have the right tools at your disposal, as well as a person who is strong enough to conceivably use that powerful item.

As for if Demon King Red could manage it, well he doesn’t have the Samadhi Fire anymore, but he does have quite a stash of mystical artifacts, which was briefly mentioned back in chapter three… AND he’s got Macaque. So who knows 👀

[alexcabotgf]

not to be true crime posting on main but i think i'm falling down the wm3 rabbit hole again

[doom-dreaming]

Cheerful Oblivion

Thought that I was hungry for love… Maybe I was just hungry for blood. **********

I met a woman in a club once. Years ago. Can’t get her out of my head. If I didn’t still have the napkin with her number on it… Well. Would’ve been easy to assume I dreamed the whole thing up.

It was a miserable night to be out. Rain was coming down in buckets, flooding the streets. Could almost hear it over the music, pelting the roof. But there she was. Filling the entire doorway. No coat. No umbrella. Nothing but a black tank top and jeans that looked too tight to be comfortable. Soaked to the bone, dripping wet, faded blue-raspberry-bright hair plastered to her neck. She looked like she’d dragged herself straight out of the ocean. In hindsight, maybe she had.

********** England is only ever gray or green. The girls glitter, Striding glorious and coatless in the rain. I remember falling through these streets, Somewhat out of place, if not for the drunkenness… It makes my chest hurt to think of it, Not of regret, but of missing that… …cheerful oblivion… **********

I remember the way she stood there, caught under spotlight rays of blue and green, the rain on her face sparkling like diamonds… She looked like an angel. Could’ve been. Probably wasn’t. More than likely…something else.

She didn't belong there. In the club. I don’t mean that in a judgmental way. Maybe philosophical. She didn't really seem like she belonged anywhere. But I could see it in her eyes, almost fluorescent blue under the lights. To her, it didn’t matter where she belonged. What mattered was where she wanted to be. And she wanted to be there. In that club. On that night.

I’d never been afraid of being noticed by a beautiful woman. I craved it. Don’t we all? This was different. She was different. Never felt my blood run colder than the second our eyes locked. It felt like being hunted.

********** It was not all pain and pavement slick with rain, And shining under lights from shitty clubs, And doing shitty drugs, And hugging girls that smelled like Britney Spears and…coconuts… **********

She flowed through the crowd like water, parting the proverbial sea, leaving a wake of awestruck stares. If she knew she was the center of attention, she didn’t care. She was a full head taller than anyone else, a titan amongst mere mortals. Muscles rippled when she moved. Wet skin shimmered. I tried not to stare, I really did. Couldn’t help myself. I could’ve watched her for days.

She swept ashore at the bar, smelling like petrichor and oil slicks. Ordered a drink. Smiled down at me, sitting so small a million miles beneath her. There was nothing human about that razor-sharp flash of teeth.

She asked if I wanted another drink. Hadn’t realized I’d finished the one in my hand. I nodded. Couldn’t find my voice. Tab’s on me, she’d said. Not here for long, least I can do. After tonight, you’ll never see me again.

********** And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, You crawled from the sea to break that sailor’s heart. You only get one night upon the shore, So dance like you’ve never danced before. And the dance floor is filling up with blood, But, oh Lord, you’ve never been so in love… **********

I asked her where she was from. She laughed, a harsh bark of a thing that ripped out of her throat like it hurt. Nowhere. I asked for her name. She didn’t answer. But that animal grin flashed back, a bright white scar across her face. For no reason, I thought about moths. And flames.

We stopped talking. Kept drinking. Started dancing. God, the way she moved. Like a machine. Like a predator. Like a ballerina. Equal parts precision, power, beauty.

I couldn’t keep up. She didn’t seem to care. I was a prop. A plaything. An entertaining little toy, something to keep her distracted. From what, I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. It felt like an honor.

********** And the mermaids they come once a year, They climb the struts of Brighton Pier, They come to drink, they come to dance, To sacrifice a human heart. And the world is so much wilder than you think. You haven’t seen nothin’ ‘til you seen an English girl drink… **********

I do still see her. Sometimes. In my dreams. In those hazy amber-clad memories. It’s hard to know what was real. Don’t know who she was. Or what she was.

Never did call that number. Not sure she’d really wanted me to. Probably for the best. I get the feeling that if we’d been in that club alone together… She would’ve eaten me alive.

And I think I would've let her.

[as-dreamers-do]

.

[carriesthewind]

Bonus round: on top of all of its other (MANY) problems, I propose that no study going forward should be allowed to use the "Reading the Mind in the Eyes" test in any study that includes autistic people unless it bothers to control for "has trouble looking people in the eyes (and thus finds the test painful and/or testing a skill that they rarely practice)." Like, using that goddam test without that control should trigger an automatic review not only of your study, but your entire body of research.

[bumpinbonnie]

Omg missed it in the tags but jade and liu kang and Kitana and kung Lao are both FIRE to me.

[a-totally-reasonable-username]

Going from 'able to walk but exhausted fast' to 'most days unable to push myself in a wheelchair' in half a year is... Okay and normal as a teenage girl, according to doctors? Seems.... Not true? But what do I know....

[keeps-ache]

been telling my siblings 'you would NOT make it in vulcan academy' when they do smth goofy recently and nobody's been able to refute lol

[aropride]

i really dont understand studying at all like genuinely i don't know what it is . i know about "taking notes" and "reading the textbook" and that's it . quizlet doesn't do shit for me because i don't know what to. do. with the cards. look at them ? am i supposed to just look at them . No one bothered teaching me actual skills bc i got good grades when i was 8 and now i am so hopelessly lost . why did no one think to teach me this for when stuff got harder than four plus three

[kens-puku]

Y'all are gonna think I'm so weird.

But I'm running with this idea I've had for a while for my mcl ocs. Well, other than the actual other mcl ocs I've made.

It's part lazy, part bizarre.

Clones.

Yep, clones.

My MCL NG oc is a clone of the original Puku, but different. I haven't figured out the details yet, but it's like what I did with Pukun, Puku's male clone. It has the idea of a type of clone theory idea of nature vs nurture. The DNA and nature of the puku clones is the same, but the nurture is always a bit different depending on circumstances. Puku "prime" is the parent of all the clones made, but Puku "prime" had a different parentage and upbringing than the clones. Not to mention, the events of each mcl game has different outcomes for clone Puku.

This Puku has -teal- hair and is a zoomer, I guess. Raised by Puku "prime" and has the existential grappling of dealing with being a clone in general.

There's... still a lot of ironing out to do. Like... Where does Kentin fit into all this? How should I incorporate the family given to Puku 2.0 in New Generation?

Why am I giving this plot to an MCL OC!??

lol