#she’s like a toddler

[housewifebuck]

ok so. one of my mobility challenged cats wants to be the center of attention literally all the time especially when I am cleaning and working and she pitches a fit if I’m walking around the house without holding her under my arm. so today I made her a sling to cart her ass around in. she fucking loves it

[yellowsubiesdance]

UGHHHH i’m really craving mcd’s

[yamuluv]

hal david and baby sunny

[morhido]

what is wrong with all of them

[echo-cave]

King Ghidorah (1964)

[bandaidfingers]

House Atreides and House Harkonnen character design lineup >:)

something I’ve been wanting to do for years

[crybaby-bkg]

new dad Bakugou who’s going back to work full time almost a full year after his daughter his born and he now has to grapple with the fact that….goddamn, he’s spoiled the shit outta her.

well, he doesn’t think it was spoiling her. in actuality, he just created a routine with her, gave her every bit of his attention, held her when she cried, scolded her (yes just at eight months) whenever she’d babble for more puffs even though she’s had enough already. it wasn’t spoiling, it wasn’t. he vowed to never be that dad, to raise a snot nosed brat, one similar to himself.

but here he is, on a Tuesday morning three weeks after her first birthday. he’s standing halfway between the front door and the living room in full uniform, with his still sleepy baby and her even sleepier mama. she’s gripping his neck like he promised to abandon her, wailing and crying so loud and dramatically, that you can’t help but chuckle at her antics and how he wavers ever so slightly.

“You promised you’d go back to work,” you scold him gently, rubbing at your daughters quivering back when she whines again the moment he acts like he’s gonna pull her off. Bakugou frowns at you, and you shrug, smoothing her unruly blond curls away from her sticky forehead.

“But you guys need me.” He pouts, eyebrows downturned as he pulls her away enough to wipe at her wet face. she blubbers again, whimpering out a small dadaaaa noooo, that absolutely breaks his heart.

“And so does the world.” You smile at him, gently pulling your daughter away from the matching glassy red eyes who watch her go. “We’ll be fine, my love. Promise.”

Bakugou looks unconvinced, especially since your daughter reaches for him with another cry of his name. you don’t say anything when he sniffles discreetly, quickly reaching down to the coffee table to snatch up his utility belt that he dropped when she waddled out of her room in tears. he snaps it on wordlessly, and you go to turn to the kitchen when he wraps you both up in his arms.

“Love you,” he whispers against your forehead before pecking it, leaning down to kiss your lips next, and then your daughter’s fat little cheeks. He whispers another love you to her, and wipes away at her rosy cheeks when she pouts at him.

“Rub you.” your daughter pouts, the both of you freezing in shock.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, grinning. “She said I love you back!” Bakugou matches your grin, laughing under his breath as he presses another torrent of kisses all of her face. for the first time since she’s opened her eyes today, she laughs, loud and joyous and familiar. he thinks that maybe going back in today won’t be so bad after all. not if this is what he’ll be coming home to.

[thedickgraysons]

okay look. i KNOW the moment we get more time and content with him, it’s going to be revealed that eris is wearing a mask, and he’s doing all of these things for his mother and his people, and hey he isn’t really a BAD guy, he’s just been given a bad hand! i know this.

but at the same time i’m going to be so angry if he goes to the rhysand school of “actually im the best person ever YOU’RE wrong for ever doubting me.”

i want him to have a sharp tongue, and say some shitty things. i want him to make bad choices and not hand wave them away as good. we’ve spent far too much time with the inner circle who portray themselves as cruel, just to get genuinely offended when people then take them at their own word (and actions) treat them accordingly. i need eris to be a bitch and i need him to OWN it!! as a reward.

[padawansuggest]

Obi-Wan in his natural habitat in the temple sleeps in a loft bed (it was supposed to be storage he said cat instinct and turned it into a loft bed they’re shockingly common with Jedi tbh tho) and under 17 fluffy blankets with a pregnancy pillow (he’s not pregnant he just can’t sleep off his stomach if he don’t got one and sometimes autism requires squishing to keep it all down) and three more fluffy blankets on top of him. He has an optional Padawan or pet (not really a pet, just whomever followed him how from the gardens today) in bed with him also. And he’s got a projector on the wall and has a night stand with water and gaming devices so he can survive up there forever.

The clones, who have learned to sleep with full kute coverings and usually without blankets or pillows cause they just pass out on each other, most of whom identified with their Jedi for having similar sleeping types if they weren’t human, realize they are quite horrified by his Stewjoni nesting instinct. And he’s offended and refuses to sleep with any of them till they apologize to his favorite stuffed animal for insulting his HOUSE. Fuck you bitches he and Master Sparkle Bantha deserve better.

Cody is groveling while Alpha is still trying to negotiate a less intense number of blankets and Anakin is just shaking his head like ‘it’s not worth it Bro’ and Alpha is like ‘shut up ur an omega too you brat’ and that’s the last straw, you called them omegas now Cody is asking what an omega is and Alpha is trying to figure out how to keep his AO3 account hidden from his vod’e and nvm he’ll sleep in the barracks forever-

Obi-Wan holds this info over his head like a guillotine and convinced him to get in the damn nest right this second and cuddle him better.

If you don’t sleep with at least two comforters and a queen sized fuzzy blanket then I don’t trust you. Yes I refuse to trust my sister and wife okay. Everything in the world has a downside and that’s theirs. My bed is half dragon hoard of yarn and squishmallows. I’m not changing for anyone.

Anakin’s bed is 90% pillow and squishmallow and 10% blanket. Padme uses a thin cotton blanket and lets him burrito wrap himself and uses him like a body pillow while he’s captive in the blankies.

[radiocrypt-id]

I got- I can't!

Imagine being 15, you've grown up your whole life with this one belief in this one God and you were told you were Chosen by Him, for Him. And you're 15. You believe so fully in the spirit of your religion, not necessarily the word, that you want to go to a non-religious school to try and help other kids maybe find your God because you genuinely believe that could be helpful to some of them, because it's all you know, and it's helped other strangers (human trafficking victims she helped in the black pit before) so why not other kids her age? You're 15 and all you can think about is helping others. And you start thinking about your religion, and reading books, and asking questions and you come to the conclusion that maybe your God and His Father aren't actually all that great. Maybe the church you're in has done some really bad things that you can't possibly make up for. Maybe that church is still doing bad things. And then you find out your family is actually in a cult for that God, not just part of the normal church, and you suddenly have to undo all the cult shit in your brain you were raised with, while that cult stuff you know about is actually useful to your friends, like having that knowledge is helpful for them! You're 15 and you stop going home. You have no real adult supervision or carer, just your other 15 year old friends.

Imagine you're 16, you're gay and figuring that out on top of navigating your first full romantic relationship and being the sole creator and cleric to a new God that you honestly find to be very two dimensional and empty. You're on a quest to find an evil being and stop them. You nearly die. Your friends nearly die. You're 16. You're 16 and feel something calling out to you, you know it's divine because you've felt that sort of pull before, but you've never felt one like this. You find memories and hints and pieces and you figure out that the evil being you have to stop, isn't evil, she's just hurting. She's hurt and She's a God. She's your God, and she's so happy to see you, and she has so many ideas, and so many hopes.

You're 17. You've spent your rest time (summer vacation) tearing across the world chasing down and defeating another evil thing that you and your friends accidentally released in the first place. Your God is with you, you have no time for Her. No time for anything but trying to survive and stay sane. You know She's disappointed in you, but you're one person -ONE PERSON- and you're 17. You missed your birthday. again. You've saved the world; again. You're so fucking tired -like always. You're Chosen, and alone, and have no idea what to do with your life, let alone your God. You aren't very good at school, but you go to every class. You're drowning as you try to rewrite your understanding of the world from what you grew up with, having no idea how to do anything without a book and godly hand to guide you. You only ever followed before, your new God is demanding you Lead. You don't know how. You're only 17. You see your horrible, abusive parents spitting abuse and racist rhetoric at your baby brother, who you haven't seen in two years, on the front steps to your school and for the first time ever you are filled with righteous fury. Your God answers your call, not knowing what you need but so eager to help, eager for your attention, she starts talking to you but you're busy -why can't she understand that you're fucking busy? trying to not die, trying to be safe, trying to keep your friends alive, trying to navigate a world that hates you, you're 17 and you're busy goddammit just wait!- and she snaps back at you and flees. The next time you see Her, maybe an hour later, She's got a creature with Her that nearly destroyed you and your friends last year sitting in her lap, so smug to see you again.

You're 17- no, 16- no, 15 years old and you're expected to build and carry the world on your shoulders, Chosen from birth, raised a lamb to follow a Shepard, not to be followed behind. You have no one and nothing and everyone expects everything and you can't back up, you can't pause because if you do someone dies and doesn't come back. You have to be a hero, a chosen, a saint. The steps behind you crumble to dust with each step you take forward and the new one is already cracking under your weight. There are only wrong choices. There's no hand reaching for you. God, you were taught, will save and guide you. God knows best. Why is your God looking to you, a mortal human, to be saved, raised and guided? You're a child.

You're just a child.

You just want to go home, wherever that is. You thought it was your God, but She's not exactly helping you out either, is She? She's just disappointed. Like everyone else. Like you.

You're 17. You think it would have been better to never do any of this. It would have been easier to stay, blind and naive. Sometimes you think you should have stayed in heaven. Sometimes you think about the God you killed by not being good enough for it. Sometimes you lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling and pretend you don't exist for awhile. Sometimes you work your body so hard you forget it's there and your mind shuts up and you exist without being you. Sometimes you wish you never asked any questions or read any books. You're 17, but sometimes you wish you were 15, with no idea yet.

You're 17. You wish you were good enough.

[intriga-hounds]

Little known Bazzy fact: he has a bottomless love bucket and if I’m not home to keep the love tap running, he becomes Insufferable.

When I got home from the wedding last night (after having already been gone the first half of the day at a dog show), he hopped in place five times at the gate in greeting and brought me a bone. Then he was halfway in my lap like this for a good while (pls note that he is made of raw chicken breasts):

Poor Sivi had to wait for an opening…

[disabled-dean]

HOT take but I am rotating a 27-year-old Mary in my mind, who isn't really fit for motherhood and doesn't stick around- but who blows through the bunker every once in a while with a group of rowdy young hunters and shitty gas station souvenirs, cleans her gun at the kitchen table, calls dean "baby", and leaves

[fromtheseventhhell]

"Sansa = Ned 2.0 and Arya = Catelyn 2.0" is one of those takes where you can just tell people are more attached to the aesthetic than anything. "The Stark girls are most like the parent they look least like" sounds good on paper and people run with the idea, regardless of how it actually fits into the story. A majority of the justification relies on misinterpreting all of their characters + a healthy dose of fanon. What gets me is that this is the same fandom that insists that Lyanna, only compared to Arya in the text, is equal parts Arya and Sansa but Ned and Catelyn, two fully fleshed-out and complex characters, have to be more like one girl or the other? There's just nothing in the story to justify being so adamant about these comparisons. Arya and Sansa have parallels with both of their parents but at the end of the day, they are unique characters with their own stories. I'll never understand why people want to flatten these complex characters down to their most basic tropes and fit them into restrictive boxes just for a "poetical~" comparison.

[sickgraymeat]

she should have just let him say fuck

[starbiology]

i feel bad realizing how much i post Basil and Onion but not Newt, but its only because shes very polite and doesnt interrupt me drawing.

So here is my sweet girl:

[bookwyrminspiration]

“We’ve been looking for you for 12 years” 12 years ago she was an infant, what criteria was Alden even using to look and narrow it down that’s a baby. was Alden sending Alvar to snoop around literal babies. he’s standing awkwardly invisible in the maternity ward looking at newborns waiting for them to talk instinctually and then they don’t and he just leaves like welp, maybe next time. watching a toddler from across the street like nope, that kid’s shit at walking can’t be an elf, next. baby failure