#so I had to help clean that out too!

[naamahdarling]

You know what? You know what I think?

I think that if we lived as we were meant to, in larger intimate ("extended family") groups and with more shared labor and time to do it (UBI NOW) people like me would not feel so useless and burdensome because there would be people around to help and to do what neurodivergent people can't while making valuable space for the neurodivergent to do what they ARE good at.

The way we live right now, all right, the way we live right now forces units of two adults to be able to do EVERYTHING or PAY to have someone come do it for them. I have to do the housework. I have to do it! But I am having to do a million different things and most of them I am not good at. I suck at them.

I wouldn't feel like shit, okay, if I had more than one other person around who was not a child and who could do the things I can't, like do the yard and cook and do repairs and basic maintenance; and someone else to split everything else that I like but is too much for me. It would free me to do what I am good at and enjoy. Cleaning, as in the sink and toilet, the windows, the blinds. Taking out trash. Folding, hanging, and sorting laundry.

But because all the shit I can do often relies on other shit being done first, and I can't do or have trouble doing those things, the shit I can do often can't be done. And even the shit I can do, I can't do ALL of it. So I can't keep up, and things get very bad.

We aren't meant to live like this. We are not meant to live like this.

That thought hurts so much because being able to flee the birth family is integral to survival for so many people. I'm so afraid that living in larger family groups would create more opportunities for, say, queer kids to be isolated, rejected, bullied, and abused. But if we gave people enough money to survive, and stopped considering children the property of their parents with no system in place to help them escape bad situations except a system that is often just as bad, just different.

I'm aware that communes and collectives aren't all that successful and are kind of a joke. I don't mean that. I mean a fundamental shift to multigenerational families where taking in "strays" (which my family did) is also normalized so people escaping abuse into existing households was accepted, with these families centered in maybe a couple of different larger residences so not everyone has to buy and maintain their own fucking washing machine and vacuum cleaner, and so people can benefit from large group meals that yield leftovers, and so child and elder care can also be centralized.

Then disabled people and the neurodivergent and sick and injured people, and pregnant people, and grieving people, would not have to either labor through all those stressors or consign themselves to living off an unlivable pittance or being put under legal guardianship.

I'm not saying anything new. People live like this in other parts of the world and maybe it sucks and I am wrong. But I'm just really mad right now because I can either do laundry or clean the sink but not both, and I really think we could improve society somewhat by making it so I did not have to choose one without sacrificing the other.

[collophora]

Found a cool color palette. Might finish it later. (Probably not.)

[dimension-20-every-introduction]

Everyone Introduced in Dimension 20's Fantasy High: Junior Year episode 17

[sysig]

Delusions (Patreon)

"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.

"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."

Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.

Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.

"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.

"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?

"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"

Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.

"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.

No, not angry.

Betrayed.

He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.

"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"

Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.

"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.

"Sir, I didn't-"

"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."

[angelnumber27]

*he spilled my cup of paint water all over everything idk why I said he spilled watercolors I just woke up girls

I literally walked away for two minutes tops to make coffee and came back to his ass sitting on this water color palette and my painting open after spilling my watercolor water all over it

Look at that face. He knows he did something wrong hahahha

[moth-flowers]

moth-flowers #17

[cappucosmico]

guys my spider looks weird. she looks a bit gay. do you guys think she will moult out of this or will she turn even gayer ?

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[toytulini]

one more baja blast. either im going to clean this tank or fall miserably asleep while screaming and crying trying

[good-beanswrites]

A little comedy drabble for @kyanako5972 in return for their very impressive musical skills! (The Jailbreak mix wouldn't have fit together without ya👍) Fuuta gets his hands on some slime... They've done some art for it here :3

[I couldn't think of something funny enough, but insert broadway bootleg Milgram Slime Tutorial joke here]

Fuuta was open-minded. Of course he was. He was the most open-minded guy here. He knew that vengeance could come in many shapes. Sometimes it took the form of beautiful, poetic violence. Sometimes it was cutting words and a grand victory. And other times, it appeared as sticky craft slime. You just had to have an open mind to see it.

Not everyone was in as receptive of a mood. 

“A-are you sure it’s not a, a toy?” Haruka asked.

“It’s not.”

“B-but,” he pointed, “it’s --”

“No! It’s a weapon.”

“I don’t know if you know what a weapon is…” Amane looked down at the table. “You couldn’t have requested something a bit more… sharp?”

“Eh!? This is a pri-son. Like they’re gonna give me something like that. I’ve got to take matters into my own hands.”

To prove his point, he picked up his creation. The color wasn’t as flashy as the others’, but it held the perfect consistency for what he needed. It had taken some time to formulate the perfect plan of attack. There were rules he had to work around, after all. (No matter how open-minded he was, rules were rules.) There was a no-violence ban. Fuuta had already tested that one -- several times, actually -- and was sure he couldn’t get around it. Their requests were monitored, and it wasn’t as if he could go and order weapons. And then, even if he did get his hands on something truly dangerous, the original ban would stop him from using it. That left him with only one option.

“It’s definitely a toy. The others are playing with it.” It was true, Haruka, Muu and Yuno had their own colorful creations. Amane herself hadn’t grabbed any, though she sat with her eyes glued hungrily on the others’ projects. Her interest in it wasn’t helping Fuuta’s case.

“Exactly, it’s the perfect disguise! They’ll never see it coming.”

“There’s nothing to see coming…”

Muu poked at hers. “Look~ Mine’s cute and pink, see? I’m even going to add some glitter when Haruka’s finished with it.”

“I-I Uh, I think I added too much… sorry…” Haruka’s slime had lost all appealing texture, turned into a clumpy, sparkling mess.

Fuuta heaved the loudest sigh he could manage, but the others continued paying him no mind. He was doing this for them, shouldn’t they care? Es had slapped Haruka during his interrogation, for god’s sake! That was child abuse! Yuno was only a year older and returned from her interrogation with complaints of violence! And Fuuta --! Well, he actually hadn’t experienced any of that, but that didn’t matter. No hero of justice would let all that go unpunished. 

His moment came quicker than expected. He’d planned on ambushing Es coming in or out of their room, but they surprised everyone by coming into the common area. It was fate.

“I heard you all were playing with some crafts in here.”

Amane glanced at Fuuta. He shot her a look back that meant “don’t say a single word.” His exaggerated expression only drew Es’ attention.

“Something to say, prisoner three?”

“Yeah!” He wound up his arm. 

He had an open mind, but not necessarily a quick one. With more time, he could have come up with a righteous cry, something along the lines of: “this is for Haruka and Yuno, you damned scoundrel!” Or even: “meet your judgment, tyrant!”

But as the slime came careening toward’s Es’ face, the only thing he managed was, “fuck you!”

Splat.

The common room fell silent. Fuuta froze. The slime had hit its mark perfectly. It hit Es squarely on the side of the head. It splattered onto their hat. A good deal had tangled itself in their hair. It oozed toward their shoulder, clumps falling onto the uniform. As they tried to wipe it from their face, the material clung to their gloves, getting stuck between their fingers. 

Their eyes moved slowly from their ruined clothes to Fuuta’s still outstretched hand, to his face. “I see.”

They turned on their heel and left.

“That’ll teach ya!” He called out, a moment too late after they’d gone. He turned to Amane, who was watching with a mix of amusement and disappointment. “There’s no way that stuff’s washing out easy. Maybe they’ll have to put on a spare uniform in the meantime.” 

“You shouldn’t have made them so mad,” she said.

“Pah! What’s the brat gonna do? Name me guilty over it?”

[cryolyst]

~

[foccaccia]

does anyone have recommendations for fictional media that has like. actual lesbians in it. not like supergirl Two White Skinny Girls, One Blonde and One Brunette Kiss media, or "its implied lesbianism!!!" but just regular fucking lesbians

[flopbftheo]

i just got the nicest chair ever from the street i'm so happy 🤩🤩

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[your-fave-is-bi]

Made some dice that unintentionally came out to look a bit like chopped raw meat chunks

[anotherpapercut]

working with children really will make you examine your thought processes and emotional reactions like nothing else. I've found myself being so much more thoughtful in my daily life about how I respond to my emotions and environment, as well as the reasoning behind why others behave the way they do