#these are all so good I am exploding

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.

[nyapplepie]

the way that i had to sit down for like. an hour after finishing infamous chapter 3 wdYM MOST LIGHTHEARTED???? HELLO???? sat there feeling second-hand stress for mc poor mc ;w;

[theokusgallery]

I am always ready to drop the biggest bangers of my career at 2am. Anyway look at his ear I'm so proud of it

[raineandsky]

If you're taking requests, could I request a hero x villain thing where the villain wakes up in the hero's house, totally confused, and he tries to ambush her when she arrives with food? (She has telekinetic abilities, which helps with a lot. I imagine her house would look like the Burrow from Harry Potter - a bunch of things fixing themselves and all that.) But if you aren't taking requests, feel free to ignore this. I've got plenty of your lovely stuff to read. :)

im sorry this is so late!! thank you for the request, i enjoyed this one :)

When the villain finally regains consciousness, the first thing he notices is the scratchy blanket thrown over him. The second thing he notices, when he opens his eyes, is that the blanket is not his. Nor is the house he’s in.

It’s a world away from his home downtown—a low coffee table sits next to the little sofa he’s on, decorated with thick books that have clearly never been read and a blue vase that’s collecting more dust than flowers. The low afternoon sun streams in through wide windows and envelopes the table and chairs in the corner in a warm orange, the speckled colours of a light catcher draping over the woollen rug nearby. The villain wishes he lived in a place like this, but he’d never dream of being civilian enough to need it.

He has no recollection of getting here. Where was he last? Did he get entangled with a civilian somewhere? What the hell did he do to end up here?

The villain is so caught up in scraping his memory for a clue that he doesn’t hear the door squeaking open behind him. What he does hear is the gentle “oh, good, you’re—”

Now, panic is not a good look on a villain. But frankly, waking up in an unfamiliar home and being faced with a stranger that is approaching from behind gives the villain some instincts that’ve probably saved his life more than once.

He lurches up from the sofa with a snarl, earning a rather startled yelp from the newcomer and toppling the coffee table vase to the floor. The blanket he’d attempted to throw off in his attack has curled itself around him like a snake, and he gets no further than the back of the sofa before it trips him over.

“Oh, sorry!” the person says lightly. “That was a little more intense than I intended, but I suppose I wasn’t expecting you to leap at me either.”

The villain, trying not to let onto his embarrassment at this turn of events, glances up. A hero, one he kind of recognises, is holding a tray upside-down and looking back at him. No, actually, the tray isn’t upside-down. The villain is just on the floor.

“That won’t help you heal,” she continues with a short laugh. “Come on, lets get you back on the sofa.”

The villain goes to throw himself at her with nothing but his nails, but the blanket is wrapped around him unnaturally tight. The hero settles on the armchair opposite as it curls around his shoulders, hefting him to his feet before shoving him back onto the sofa.

“What the hell is going on?” is all the villain can think to say.

The hero smiles brightly, unbothered, and sets her tray on the coffee table between them before turning her attention to her shattered vase. “You were a little worse for wear by the time I got to you,” she offers unhelpfully. “Honestly, I was a little worried. You’ve been out for some time.”

The villain watches blankly as the vase picks itself up off the floor, hovering a few inches off the ground to meticulously piece itself back together. None of it would’ve clicked if he didn’t clock the hero staring at it like it’ll disappear the moment she looks away.

“You’re telekinetic,” he says flatly.

The hero turns back to him as the vase sets itself back on the coffee table. Its perfect presentation slips as the hero lets go of it, several pieces sliding out of formation and dropping to the table. “Maybe.”

She gives him a coy smile. The blanket still has a tight hold of him, keeping him sat on the much too comfortable sofa. The sun is moving, throwing some of her face into wild yellows that brighten her face more than a hero deserves. God, the villain hates all of this.

“You got a bad wound in your battle.” The hero gestures to her side vaguely. “You need time to recover, so I would suggest you stay here until you’re better.”

“I’d much rather be at home than trapped here with you,” the villain snaps.

“Oh.” The hero tilts her head in a way that the villain knows isn’t genuine. “Well, you shouldn’t move around too much. Do you have someone at home who can look after you?”

The bitter silence that follows brings another smug smile to her lips. “Then you’ll stay here,” she says after a moment. “My house will make sure of it.”

“Can you tell your house to lay off? Your blanket is trying to strangle me.”

The hero laughs brightly, and as she does the blanket’s vice-like grip loosens slightly. “I brought you some breakfast, by the way.” She gestures to the tray, which the villain now notices has a bowl of soup and several pieces of bread on it. “It’s proven difficult to feed someone that’s unconscious, so please do make sure you eat something.”

She gets to her feet before the villain can think of anything to dispute her. “I’m just going to clean up in the kitchen. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” She points to the tray. “I expect that to have gone down when I get back.”

With one last smile she turns on her heel and lets herself out.

The villain stares at the closed door for a moment before turning his gaze back to the steaming bowl in front of him. For god’s sake, it does smell good. He takes it in his lap, nabbing a piece of bread with him and dunking it into the soup.

The vase is slowly disintegrating, pieces dropping out of place every-so-often. The villain watches it like entertainment as he eats, but eventually it starts to get on his nerves. A quick scavenge of the hero’s drawers finds him a tiny tube of glue.

All of this is a pain in the ass. At least this gives him something to do with his hands.

[identityquest]

Galactic Jungle worldbuilding + sneeze girl fanart 🫰

Residents of the Galactic Jungle are among the most educated Raposa on the planet, but they're also some of the most compassionate and caring. When their mayor passed away and Click had to take responsibility until a new mayor could be elected, the residents were extremely understanding of his anxieties surrounding the position. His various eccentricities and odd new regulations seemed forgivable, given the situation. This sort of snowballed over the course of 20 years, where Click became more nervous and worried for his friends and neighbors, and the residents pretended to follow his rules to assuage his fears until it was kinda too late to say anything without it being really awkward.

The puppet council and their extremely pedantic rules are strange and frightening to visitors, but residents don't mind much because none of them actually follow the rules. At least, they don't follow them when Click's not around. They're all supposed to be living safe, comfortable lives, but instead they're keeping the community running by performing jobs that one Raposa couldn't reasonably be asked to do alone.

Kamalah handles trade with other Raposa settlements (mostly with Lavasteam and the Snow Fields) and general communications technology. When she disappears after the sneezing incident, it's because Click is convinced she's about to die from some contagious disease and is trying to get her to rest.

The player's intervention in the Galactic Jungle gives the residents the perfect opportunity to tell Click hey, we actually knew the council was fake all along and we didn't wanna say anything because we were worried about you. And they all make up and say haha wasn't that wild. And life moves on.

[ruuggs]

I HAVE IDEAS OMG

Lemme cook lemme cook i have such fun ideas rn i do suck at like actually rendering and finishing art ideas BUT I WILL CHANGE THAT IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR JUST WATCH IMMA BE THE BEST

its obviously joel smallishbeans bean fanart and its obvious when it is in hermitcraft ten I drew thumbnail sketch ideas and i'll try to pick an render one tmr >:DDDDDDDD

[0xeyedaisy]

Was gonna make a vent post talking abt how everything sucks but then something good happened so I'm okay now, I'm cured

[antiquepearlss]

Tangled The Series would have been very different if Varian were voiced by John Mulaney, huh?

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

I Am All In Rewatch - Episode 1x5

[I mean, if Luke would have been at the counter when Lorelai and Suki are talking about her getting you know, you would have lost your mind.] But I did. I did lose my mind, and I lost it indirectly at Suki and I did say to them, I don't know how you guys ever get any work done. Now he was he can hear. That's his place, he hears, he knows what's going on. He can't show his cards right. He's not going to get you know, weepy about it. He's gonna get pissed....That was indirect anger for Lauren. -Scott 

 Why is Luke always grumpy? Answer the question why is he grumpy? He's not. He's grumpy because he's in love with a woman that he can't get, who doesn't really respect him. Who and I've been in this situation where somebody said to me, I can't take you seriously at one point in my life when I before I became successful. Um, yeah, I can't take you seriously. You don't even make fifty thousand dollars a year. Yeah, I've heard that. I've heard that, and and and that's kind of how he feels. It's like, she'll never take me seriously. The daughter doesn't take me seriously. And I'm grumpy because I'm never going to get this woman because she's gonna date a million guys and now she's with this Max guy. And every time he resolves it in his own mind just to sort of all right, screw it, except it. [He's liked her for a decade] sixteen years. Okay, so four seasons in he finally kisses her there, finally, you know, it finally happens. That's twenty years he's been sitting there twenty years in love with that woman and not feeling worthy and being you know, knowing that the uh, the gap in class and wealth and is keeping them apart because he's terrified of her He's terrified of her. [I literally just realized because when you first said it in this conversation, you're like, why do you think he's grumpy. It's because he's in love with her. I was like, oh, Scott's being so like dramatic, and now I'm like, oh my god, you've loved her since she moved to stars Hallow] Why yell? Why yell at Suki with so much ferocity for being behind the counter and then getting in Lorelais face and saying, next time you bring her in here put her on a chain. It's it's like, it's like, f you to where you come from. F Max Medina, F your conversations that I can overhear. You don't even have enough respect for me not to talk about this stuff when I'm serving you and I'm been in love with you for you know, sixteen years. It's amazing the guy didn't explode before season two. Just spontaneously combust with all his issues. -Scott 

[heartorbit]

NICCORI CORI CORI CORI CORIANDER

[harvestmoth]

more rejuv things but its. its just this guy again, im sorry shes all i can draw

[sneez]

more of my oc tervis (any pronouns), the creepiest most miserable little weirdo in town. which is saying something [id under cut]

/ ID: four digital drawings.

The first image is a series of drawings of Tervis on a paper-textured background. A heading at the top reads 'Tervis (Humble)'. One is a coloured headshot of Tervis looking to the left; they have a gaunt face, short receding hair, a scar bisecting their lip and right eyebrow, greyish skin, and are wearing a red shawl around their neck. An arrow pointing at their right eye reads 'one blue eye (mostly blind)'; another arrow pointing at their left eye reads 'one brown eye'. They have a serious, hostile expression. The second drawing is an uncoloured full-body sketch of Tervis. Next to this is the same drawing but coloured and with more polished lineart. Tervis is a thin, hunched figure wearing a long, dark brown robe, a greyish bag on their back, and a red shawl around their head and neck. They are barefoot, and are leaning on a walking staff with both hands. An arrow pointing to the walking staff reads 'needed for walking, useful for hitting'. Tied to the belt around their waist are several long scrolls of paper with writing on them. An arrow pointing to the scrolls reads ''blessings' they paste on infected houses'. Tervis is looking warily out at the viewer from beneath their eyebrows. An arrow pointing to their head reads 'scar from getting hit in the face with a brick (also knocked out a tooth)'. Alongside these drawings are a series of bullet points giving information about Tervis. These read:

   indeterminate age, indeterminate gender

   religious fanatic (unclear which religion)

   lives alone somewhere in the steppe

   dislikes everyone but is nicer to children than anyone else

   has every disease

The second image is a fake screenshot from the video game Pathologic. Tervis is looking out at the viewer; the background shows scenery from the steppe. The text on screen reads:

CHANGELING: I still don’t see what you could have done that would make you personally responsible for this plague. TERVIS: Responsible… no, not merely responsible! This is my plague, cast upon my head alone. I am the originator; my sin is at the root of all. I have ventured into the town. I have seen the canker there. No matter how many houses I bless, my sickness sinks deeper. The rotted limb is the death of the body… Surely you understand me. You are a healer, are you not? CHANGELING: What is it that you are asking me to do? TERVIS: Let me be the lamb, worker of miracles! My blood shall wet the earth, and bright flowers shall grow… My putrefaction will provide the soil within which new life will burgeon, pure and free of sin and decay. Let it be done. I am ready. My failing flesh is but little sacrifice; in death my weakness will be my strength. Soon these torments will be at an end.

Below are two dialogue options:

You’re insane!

What makes you so sure your death would solve anything?

The third image is a fake screenshot from the video game Pathologic 2. Tervis is looking out at the viewer, and has been painted in semi-realistic style. The text on screen reads:

Tervis: Why do you force me to live? Damn you! Your cure is poison to me. Now I shall never be blessed. You should have left me to bleed.

Below are three dialogue options:

Don’t be absurd. I wasn’t going to watch you die.

What makes you think you deserve suffering?

I wish I had.

At the bottom of the image is a line of dialogue which Tervis has just spoken:

The air is foul. There is rot in this place. The stench of corruption shall be – what was it? What was it? The stench of corruption shall be… swept aside…

The fourth image is a coloured scene depicting Tervis and Clara. They are central in the composition; around them is the steppe, which has been rendered in a loose, painterly style. Tervis is kneeling, their walking staff cast aside, and are reaching out their hands to Clara in a desperate, pleading gesture. They are crying, their face contorted in an expression of agonised ecstasy. Clara stands beside them, one hand reaching out, the other held above Tervis’s head as though about to touch their brow. She has a solemn, pained expression. Behind her head, a break in the dark clouds gives the impression that she is haloed by sunlight; rays of the same light fall onto Tervis, illuminating their face and red robe. End ID. /

[okayto]

I'm in a reference class right now and I just get so irrationally angry about the requirements.

Like, obviously, the purpose of the class is to make sure all the theoretically-future (or sometimes current) librarians know how to actually look things up AND verify sources AND in a wide variety of subjects and topics. Yes, good, valuable, important.

BUT I hate it so much. I hate questions that sound like they came from an alien whose best human impression comes from old chatbots: "Who is Zora Neale Hurston? What is she known for? Does Sparkle Library have any of her books?" why are you asking the first two questions if you clearly know them enough to ask the third "What's this geologic feature I saw in town? What's its history? Where is it?" can I point you to Google Maps please "What is the meaning of the word fandom?" why am I required to find you four verified resources on a dictionary definition "Can you help me find articles about this topic" yes but our professor hasn't actually given us examples of how they'd 'verify' articles so IDK if this will work even though it's literally exactly how I'd do this in my actual library job where I provide reference services to college students.

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

I WENT TO MY FURRY GROUP MEET TODAY AND ACQUIRED MY FIRST EVER PAW PATROL MERCH I'M SO HAPPY THE TRUCK IS BIGGER THAN I EXPECTED IT TO BE AND PRETTY WELL DETAILED IT WAS SO WORTH IT

They didn't have Zuma nor Marshall... I was planning to buy one now and the other two on my next pay. Guess I'll still buy the other two later, but online, as they don't have them here at this mall. Maybe I could check the other malls in the city but aaaaaaa I'm lazy MAYBE, WE'LL SEE

[smooth-tea-blossoms7359]

I can't believe I have to fucking say this, but here we go, since I'd rather deal with this now than when someone messages me some random bs about the current situation (thank fuck I'm not Jewish nor have family or friends in Israel, or this would be much more angry than I'd like, but here we are).

The killing of civilians is not OK. Celebrating it either is not OK. BEING HAPPY THAT PEOPLE ARE BEING RAPED AND KILLED IS NOT FUCKING OK YOU ASSHOLES.

Do none of you who are doing this over the Internet HAVE ANY FUCKING EMPATHY FOR ANYONE IN THIS CONFLICT.

Look, I'm South African. I'm black. We can argue AS MUCH as you fuckin want about the ethics of using violence and that jazz to 'achieve means' or whatever fucking buzzword you guys want to use to 'end the apartheid in the Middle East'. I won't respond to you, but whatever.

You can talk AS MUCH as you want about how 'Israel deserved this', I'm not gonna argue with a random twat. Send me anonhate for all I care, call me 'anti-Palestinian' or something for all I fucking care.

You can talk about settlers, me being 'right wing' (I'm actually, left, but fuck me, am I right) or whatever hot takes you want to jab to me about how 'this was inevitable' (and the thing is, if the crazies on both sides were non-existent or not in power (because I 100% know Israel has it's crazies, and that Palestine has theirs too) IT WOULD Have, but I'm not discussing fucking politics today. I have school and assignments and a fanfic chapter to write))

You can do whatever you want with me, BUT THE FUCKING MOMENT YOU DECIDE THAT IT IS RIGHT TO KIDNAP, MURDER AND DO WHATEVER TO PEOPLE JUST LIVING THEIR LIVES, TO SEND DEATH THREATS TO RANDOM PEOPLE FOR JUST BEING JEWS, THAT IS WERE ANY SEMBELANCE OF A DISCUSSION FALLS AWAY, YOU ANTISEMITIC WEIRDO.

If you needed this message, I beg of you, grow a spine, a skull and get a brain to replace the one that melted out of your ears.

If you think that what Hamas is doing is morally right in anyway, shape or form, please block me and never speak to me again.

Do I know of skeletons in the closet? Yes, I do. But, here's the thing: If you decide that's entirely justifiable to commit acts of terrorism, just...leave my account. Now.. You are not welcome here, nor do I wish for you to feel welcomed by me. Leave.

Let all those who are suffering find relief and rescue, and those who died be in peace, and their memories be remembered forevermore. Amen.

----------------

Rant, over. Good Gd I am this close to slapping someone

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]