#anyway anyway ANYWAY

[butmakeitgayblog]

TLFOAH babies together 🥺

[shima-draws]

Anyway speaking of poly trios. Have any of you considered Lawlusan because MANNNN.

[prudentfolly]

She should have a flame thrower.

[ggenggar-draws]

you&me we’re not the same

[aliferous-ly]

"Woah, dude, is that Perry the Platypus?" Ren said, lifting his sunglasses off his head and squinting, two very conflicting actions if Stress had anything to say on the matter.

But also, Stress had just placed the final block and was literally standing on top of Perry's hat.

"...no?" Stress tried. She fluttered her elytra wings and grinned, even though Ren was way on the ground and probably couldn't see.

"Hmmm," Ren said. He snapped his glasses back onto his nose.

Stress decided to glide down so she didn't have to shout. She adjusted the flowers around her neck and settled delicately beside Ren. He wisely didn't mention how she nearly toppled over.

"Well, yes, it is Perry," Stress said. "He just goes where he wants, yeah?"

"An independent platypus," Ren agreed. He cocked his head.

"It quite matches the decor," Stress added.

Ren, to his credit, just snickered.

[yashley]

bronte always seeing his older brother as the heir, the golden child, the leader, perfect and infallible, rescinding his own place in his home to strike out to be someone he Wants to be for Himself, only to find his older brother earnestly trailing after him, inspired by his bravery for identity, and this perfect brother becomes flawed, stupid, hopeful, and vulnerable, the aspects bron could never award him in place of all of the medals cyrus had pinned to him, getting to rediscover him as a person and getting to love him for what was always behind cyrus’ curtain. his brother’s an idiot. god he does love him. and then to watch his brother fall, and dorian storm takes the steps once more away from cyrus, unwillingly now, forever, never to hang his head in the shadow of his older brother and never to roll his eyes at cyrus’ innocent foolishness. bronte left first and cyrus left last and the years they would’ve had together are gone and all dorian can think about is how it’s all his fault, bron was always the expendable one, so how the fuck is he still here and his brother isn’t

[notjanine]

me a week ago: i love my job!!

me now, after having a mid-year review that amounted to you’re doing an excellent job and you bring such a valuable perspective to our practice but i don’t have the ability to give you a raise right now but don’t worry bc i just hired a new CFO to try to figure out money so we can maybe give you a raise later this year: *breaks into a cold sweat as i crack open indeed dot com*

[perdvivly]

Loved loved loved the long way to a small angry planet. I think this was partly driven by 1) I wanted to fuck the aliens, 2) I wanted to fuck the robot and, 3) I wanted to fuck the humans… I think Becky Chambers is just really good at writing fuckable characters tbh

[serendipitouscontaminant]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Abbott Elementary (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gregory Eddie & Jacob Hill Characters: Jacob Hill, Gregory Eddie, Background & Cameo Characters Additional Tags: Post-Season 03e05 Breakup, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sleep Deprivation, Friendship, Break Up Aftermath, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Gen or Pre-Slash Summary: Jacob crashes on Gregory’s couch.

Night one is emotionally fraught.

[baelavelaryon]

ok sorry going to hop on my soapbox here for just a second and say that not only does the game give you way too many super judgemental options to say to mayrina about her choice to give up her baby i've also seen people be horrible about her? sorry but you can always abort sacrifice your baby to bring back your dead husband it's always morally correct. the life of her fetus is not equivalent to the life of her husband!!!!

[ahollowgrave]

Noisome (adjective): offensive to the senses and especially to the sense of smell // not to me. not if it’s you.

(tw: Minor gore / talk of death)

Sometimes your work is rotten. There is no getting around it. Rot is part of the cycle you keep.

It is why you work alone; the smell cannot offend one who doesn’t need to breathe.  (Also, people get a little weird when you ‘hold’ your breath for too long.) 

So, it is often you and the vultures. 

They have become less afraid of you, over these few moons. You are never in a hurry, after all, and are so often content to sit and watch them work. 

You admire their bald heads - like monks, head bents to holy work - and you know their stomach acids are potent to keep them healthy and safe. Cleaning flesh from bone is hard work and comes with risks, but left to rot the flesh can prove a danger to others.

The vultures are a necessity. 

Just like the decay is. Just like you are. 

You have never thought yourself a necessity but you wonder at it, now. 

(This is not entirely true: You think every living soul serves a purpose on the star, no matter the size of it.) (This rule, however, does not extend to you.) (Naturally.)

You know there are others like you. Psychopomps is the fancy word for it. Guides, aids, speakers. You have even met a few of them! So far an -- eccentric bunch. Perhaps that is part of the calling. Vultures have their bald heads and their strong stomachs to aid them. Perhaps pyschopomps are odd for the same reason. An evolutionary tick of sorts. 

You sit for hours, watching the vultures, turning the idea over in your head. If the work leads to the oddness what else does it change about you? Given enough time could it be -- anything? Worry burrows into your heart.

It is only after the vultures leave and you are collecting the bones of the fallen that you feel peace again. A moth ventures from the shadows and rests upon your shoulder as you cradle the skull in your hands - some soft bits still cling, vultures are not perfectionists after all - and the brush of its wing against your cheek feels like gratitude.  

If this work changes you beyond recognition you think it would still be Good and Holy work. 

[prudentfolly]

Day Six - Memory

A younger Prudence sits outside the Skysteel Manufactory on a much-needed smoke break.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

god, I really have to play Dishonored + Knife of Dunwall + Brigmore Witches again

[carolmunson]

working a wedding and thinking thoughts that i had back in march.

[certified-anakinfucker]

i miss mace windu. where is he. is he safe. is he alright.

[babydxhl]

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