#manpurse

[mywingman]

Your joke about my "manpurse" was one of those unhinged moments you never recover from. Lesson learned: don’t bring a reusable tote to watch the game. #manpurse #murse #wonk #knicks #newyorknicks #nyknicks #nbaplayoffs #nba #totebag #totebagstyle #totebags #totebagdesign #MentalHealthMatters #Pope #mothersday #MentalHealthAwarenessMonth #MentalHealth #May #motherday #LoveYourself #PopeLeo #existential #undergroundcomix #art #mywingman 5/12

[wildandmoody]

trying to psionically tell the japanese businessman dilf sleeping next to mee on the shinkansen rn that I'm available

[eudico-my-beloved]

once again the limits of being an f2p strikes (<- didnt realise she couldnt buy shit with the metal she crafted and smelted a bunch of weapons into scrap)

[dr-icebergers]

I bring you exploding pinecones to throw at Bright.

thank you for existing and being my favorite. :3

-@pinecone-anon

THANKS! :D

i have a whole pile of explosives to throw at jack now, life's going great /lh

[zumicho]

THE END OF MOUSETRAP! ← IWAIZUMI / AKAASHI SMAU

EPILOGUE: TAKE YOUR PICK — HAJI ROUTE

before you continue: this was my first smau, depsite it being a huge chaotic mess and how mismatched it is with my theme — it has a very special place in my heart & I hope it’s earned a place in yours! thank you for reading & keeping up with mousetrap ♥︎ .ᐟ.ᐟ

with love, ree.

｡･ﾟﾟ･ WRITTEN PORTION BELOW ✧･ﾟ: *

the clank of keys echo through the hallways of your shared home.

“you’re back you’re back you’re back!!!” you chant as you run up to him. he’s shaking his head as he takes his shoes off and racks them. and smiling. “is this our new routine?”

“cmere,” you grab him by the tie, nose to nose. “I made you something.”

his eyes light up. “you did?”

with a nod, you untie your apron — his gaze drifting down your figure as it follows you to the kitchen.

“cooked you dinner. 1950s neglected housewife style.”

he pecks you on the cheek. “I don’t neglect you.” phone fished out from his man purse (which he refuses to admit, is a man purse), he takes a picture of your surprise: spaghetti bolognese; ‘yay! you got promoted’ piped in cursive onto the plate in tomato paste. he takes a bite, chewing it on the left side of his mouth.

“and I’m not your wife” you prop your elbows up on the counter.

he swallows. “yet. did you eat?”

“yeah. I can stay up for you but not stay hungry.”

haji pulls out a small velvet box - from his manpurse - and you stagger. “if you waited for me to eat I would’ve had compensation. but I’ll give it to you anyway.”

“l/n y/n,” he pushes the box open. you close your eyes with your palms, already freaking out.

“will you marry me. again?”

teary eyed, you fling your arms around his neck, burying your face into the nook between his head and his shoulder.

“yes. a thousand times—“ you look at the box, and throw the table wipe at his face. it’s a ring pop.

there’s a shit eating grin on his face. “you said yes.”

“I’ll say no the next time.” you scowl.

“you’re a liar.” he wraps his arms around your waist, swaying you both as you spoonfeed him. “how’d your day go?”

“I was at the park today,” you tell him as he munches. “these two girls were squealing and fangirling over some author.” your thumb brushes the corner of his lip, wiping sauce off. “one of them was talking about the book. apparently it’s her favorite. said the love triangle is fucking insane.”

“mhm..” he murmurs, resting his forehead on your back as he pulls you close.

“mousetrap. by akaashi keiji, she told her.” you say, haji blinks. four times. “from college?”

you nod. there’s a lull in the conversation before he sighs, turning you around to face him.

“did you ever regret choosing me over him?” he’s dead serious.

“never.” you are too.

and right then and there, he kisses you. like he means it. you kiss him back, because he’s yours.

@needtoloveoutloud @rory-cakes @minaluvu @tenjikusstuff4 @cherrypieyourface @strawberrygloom1 @bows4life @dreamsofnaughtiness @suitstars @vivianne666 @this-is-me-lolol @kettlepop @giocriedpower @literaleftist @yuminako @kagtobis @wolffmaiden @gsyche @fllavviiaa @guitarstringed-scars @hibernatinghamster @ryuverse @muyyie @gra-eae @phoenix-eclipses @cnnmairoll @neuviloved @reneny @elliott0o0 @girlkissersco @aliensstolemyheart

imagining cap & peggy slowdance

[aieroartstudios]

*man purse noises*

Plz Tell basil to take me out of the closet and stop sashaying about with that DREADFUL new knapsack >:[

*jingles away in manpurse*

HELP

don’t worry I’ll tel him for you.. SINCE WHEN DID HE BUY A NEW KNAPSACK????

Can’t believe he just forgot about you like that🥲

[ghostyclay]

Its a bird! It's a plane! It's a docm77 flying through the nether with 1/4 of lightspeed!!!

Decided to post a lil zoomed-in version of the docm drawing i made last week, since the only closeup i added to the OG post was the man purse LMFAO

(more closeups below)

silly goat man!

HAHA! YOU REALLY EXPECTED ME NOT TO SHOW OFF THE MANPURSE AGAIN??? YOU FOOL!

Anyways, don't mind me, i just needed people to know that Doc cannonicly has a pink shulkerbox called manpurse. (Might be a season 8 or 9 thing tho?? Honestly no clue, memory issues go brrrrrr)

[shamebats]

I feel for Guillermo. I can't be the office gay bc we already have a tiny Carhartt lesbian & a cute twink who carries a little manpurse, they've both got seniority. If I wasn't trans I'd just be the guy who's always wfh & has a lot of cats.

[clove-pinks]

I want to share even more of my River Raisin Battlefield living history event pictures tonight because I had such a great time!

The actual River is in the background of this picture where the iron bridge can be seen (and today the battlefield is surrounded by train tracks). To truly understand the scope of it, you need to travel to multiple sites along the river where the conflict took place 211 years ago.

Everyone was very friendly and eager to talk about their hobby and kit. The gentleman at centre kept saying "I love my manpurse!" about his haversack (they store items in there like wallets and cellphones), and the man at right is portraying a settler called up to muster for militia who brings a farm implement instead of a firearm.

The drummer and fifer were quite talented, especially the fifer (who also sewed reenactment clothing), and they played "The Girl I Left Behind Me" and other tunes.

I love, love the sound of just ONE fife and ONE drum, and I'm always looking for music with this minimalist arrangement, if anyone has any recommendations!

The militia reenactors cheered when they managed to get their guns to stand up like this: it felt like something the ragtag Michigan militia would have cheered two centuries ago.

They were such a lovely group of people, and I'll see them next weekend at the First Siege of Fort Meigs!

[wearesorcerer]

How I Learned that Sleep is a Death Spell

I do not know how word from Mithral Hall had managed to reach the home of the Lórëlindalë in Arvandor nor why it was that I was selected to answer the call. That's probably from hitting my head after falling out of the portal that had opened ten feet above the floor of the stronghold's main receiving hall. Still, my rather abrupt and graceless appearance was not the biggest faux pas an outsider made that day before the shield dwarves. A random elf appearing out of nowhere unceremoniously is nothing compared to a goblin attempting to gain entry by passing himself off as a halfling. Whatever mercy stayed the dwarves' hands proved a godsend, as that goblin was a capable scout and more than willing to aid us. Nor was I alone of the faerie folk to come to the shield dwarves that day. No doubt the fair swordmaster would have wanted a better entrance to make him feel less out of place than he already did. I myself felt sheepish for other reasons: given the two dwarves who joined us -- both in heavy plate, one bristling with weapons of all descriptions, the other a devotee of Moradin -- it seemed a certainty that they'd wanted someone with more insight into the arcane than I had, and it's not like I'd made a good impression of my skills with that performance. As they say in Tethyr, c'est le vie. But beggars cannot be choosers, so despite our discomfiture we were quickly appointed to our task. It was overly simple: enter the Underdark and verify rumors of an impending incursion the drow and perhaps their allies were planning on Mithral Hall. Nothing in the Underdark is ever simple, which probably accounted for our group's great deal of experience relative to such a task. It took maybe an hour of spelunking before we came upon an advance party of hobgoblins; their leaders, one of sorcerous might and another whom I didn't have time to assess, rode their giant lizards high upon the opposite wall of the cavern. We were outnumbered two-to-one. As the dwarves charged, leaving us elves at the chamber's entrance, it became apparent that this was an ambush: our party divided, others set upon us, likely laying in wait. The dubiousness of the early incursion proved coincidental, as our roguish goblin didn't seem to be bound by notions of greatly extended kinship. I say this not because I recall specifically what the goblin did, just that he didn't try to stab us in the ensuing melee. The klink of the warrior dwarf's hammer as it split hobgoblin skulls and was quickly swapped for a variety of other weapons only barely managed to cover the prayers his compatriot intoned to the Forge Father as they held the front line, while my saber and the swordmaster's secret blade-twisting techniques were enough to fend off the few assailants on our end. It took one spell from the sorcerous goblinoid for me to realize we were in trouble. But it did give me an idea. I reached into the purse manpurse large, conspicuous pouch on my side for the only spell components I carry: rose petals. I grabbed a handful, whispered an incantation as I drew my hand up in an arc, and blew. The petals flew towards the ceiling on a swift breeze, forming a cloud around the hobgoblin, then stopped suddenly before imploding upon him. The hobgoblin blinked, shook his head a few times, then went limp as slumber -- and gravity -- took hold of him. He fell. His lieutenant and the lieutenant's lizard mount, being directly underneath him, were unable to get out of the way in time. They, too, fell. All three fell upon the front line, hobgoblin and dwarf alike. But the dwarves are a hale folk and surprisingly nimble for short men with short legs wearing large panels of metal over every inch of their bodies, so in the end were more than fine. Mostly. The same cannot be said for what had remained of the hobgoblin advance party, now a pile of limbs squashed beneath the broken remains of their commanding officers and a horse-sized reptile.

-From an account of an Underdark excursion written by Árëlómion, scion of the Lórëlindalë, moon elf bard.

This was my first Forgotten Realms campaign (though it turned out to be a one-shot), back in late Fall of 2005 (my first semester of undergrad). The DM was a friend of mine (whom I was crushing on hard at the time) and the other players were his suitemates (save one, a mutual; he effectively took the place of the remaining suitemate, who either couldn't or didn't want to play). The other noteworthy bit about the session was that I was experiencing my first bout of acute hyperglycemia: I was not yet diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, but had anyone recognized my thirst and trips to the bathroom for what they were, I would have been a textbook case. I still managed to pull off killing much of the assault squad and ending the combat with a single 1st-level spell (as a ninth-level character, though that didn't affect the spell's save DC or power at the time).

Árëlómion was meant to be the elfiest elf bard that ever did elf bard. "Fop" doesn't even begin to describe him/them. Yes, I dug through a Quenya-English dictionary to make those names. Surprisingly, no, Árëlómion is not a well-made character; I got lucky with the spell working. I have since made the character a cover identity for another, but in looking at the character sheet I'm tempted of rebuilding him/them.

[rametarin]

Had a funny realization.

Having two sink basins back in the day must be like we imagine two computer monitors today.

"Woah! Look at this big spender over here. Who needs TWO?"

don't mind me, just using my cheap, affordable, stainless steel kitchen sink. With TWO basins. Allow me to flex my huge muscles and show my enormous manpurse. I am civilized and efficient, I need TWO basins in my sink to do TWO things in it at once.

Bougie for 1700.

[electronicironic]

me: augh fuck whys my shoulder always so pissy owiee

also me, digging around in my manpurse: i bet if i shuffle the existing brick sized solid metal toolkits around i could fit another set of tools in here. Maybe next to the box full of heavy duty metal pencils which I exclusively carry to collect without actually using? Might make it hard to close, hmm.

[breoasis]

guyliner, manbun, manpurse... just say you're a fucking coward

[yousaydisco]

The real start to Harry discovering that they're bigender, or genderqueer, or non-binary or etc. is him experimenting with pretty purses, imo. He loves having extra inventory slots, just pockets are never enough! So he's gonna grab a purse and it'll be really neutral at first but then they will get subtly more pretty and then BAM one day they're strutting around with ornate statement purses that have way too much stuff in them.

And of course the purse needs accessories so Harry is going to get cute charms, and then start pairing it with sunglasses and hats and it'll really seem like just fashion pieces until someone makes a crack about a "manpurse" and Harry will attempt to argue that purses are gender neutral and instead end up saying that it can't be a man purse if they're not a man, at least all of the time.

[ghostyclay]

[Day 14]: Docm

ITS HIM!! THE GOAT!

And HE'S YEETING HIMSELF 4 MILLION BLOCKS FAR, DEFYING PHYSICS IN THE PROCESS!!! Aka, a normal Tuesday for doc. (close up bellow)

[Edit: I FORGOT THE BEARD GOD DAMNIT CLAY]

Close up of his manpurse, because every insane german scientist needs a bright pink man purse. Trust me, I'd know, since German is my first language.