#yes girl get some!!!

[xwonderlandresidentx]

The sound of excitement I made when Matt showed up was absolutely hideous, I wish I'd recorded it

Also how hard I cheered for Jen when they hooked up, she deserves nice things

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[ptewie]

multiversus made me think about these three interacting which then made me realize morty is probably the only one to know that the phrase "PTSD" means.

[musubiki]

limochi rkgk

[holocene-sims]

belle of the ball ❄️✨🤍

[lazylittledragon]

I've been loving ur mombin comics, but where is the other mom? what trans hottie is not paying her child support out here? (this is said with a lot of love and affection, im very curious abt how she got into that situation, if you have thoughts abt it <3)

ajsjhsdfh i wasn't going to answer this because it's explained in the next comic but kudos to you for being the only person to say 'who's the other mom' instead of 'WHO'S THE DAD'

also the way this is worded made me laugh for like 5 minutes thank you so much xx

[satans-knitwear]

Woke up like this, obviously.

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[galactic-rhea]

[ID: Screenshot of a chat that says "just leave my queen alone, she's already suffered enough. She wanted a life with her malewife murder monk pilot mechanic racer and you should respect her for that!]

It's Padmé defending's hours for me

I have been seeing more negative (with very weird connotations, tbh) posts about Padmé on my dash lately, and while I'm a firm believer of the "scroll past it" rule, it really irks me a lot because MOST of these takes sound a bit mysoginistic to me and also (to me) shows a lack of trying to understand her as a character, not in a "you don't get her" way, but in a "you don't even try to understand the character and her context in the damn story just because you wanna sound holy than thou" way.

I'm all for accepting takes about Padmé's flaws or having a slightly more privileged/closed view (and that makes sense, she's aristocracy) but these people are SO WEIRD whenever they wanna talk about her 🤨

I'll forever mad that George eliminated SO MANY scenes with Padmé in the movies, but I feel like even if we had those scenes, people's complaints would be exactly the same.

But also i think half of the time people fail at understanding Padmé is because they're also failing to understand Anakin's as a character, idk

[lucyshypemaster]

keefe was actually insane for this

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Figured it was time I did a face reveal

This is me

This is me and whoever wanna volunteer

[iamumbra195]

I hate when people talk about Ashler like it’s inconceivable to ship them.

They’ll be like “Oh, they had so much beef, they’re barely even friends.” Genuinely asking here, have you even read the webtoon if you think that?

Tyler had issues with practically everyone at the beginning, hell, most of the kids didn’t even like each other. Ben, Aiden, Ashlyn, and Logan all thought he was a jerk and he was acting like one because he was trying to protect himself and Taylor and the whole situation was stressful as hell. That’s why his character development is so good. Even Ashlyn remarks that he’s being less of a jerk in one chapter and Taylor says that he's begun to see the others as real friends, maybe even family.

They all eventually became allies and then friends, including Ashlyn and Tyler. Sure, they like to throw some sarcastic remarks at each other but that’s just their sense of humour and part of the appeal of their friendship. Same with Aiden and Tyler, they insult each other all the time but the insults that were originally meant to hurt are now used affectionately.

He gave Ashlyn a nickname guys. He gave a jokey nickname to cheer her up because she felt terrible about the fact that she had to leave him behind while he got terribly hurt, while he died. She literally started crying out of guilt and being overwhelmed by the whole situation. She cares about him and he cares about her and the whole gang cares about each other, which is why there are so many ships in the fandom to begin with.

So stop acting like anyone who ships Ashler is stupid and stop saying ‘they’re like siblings’ on every post about them. We know it’s probably not gonna be canon, hell, Red herself said romance isn’t the focus of the webtoon at all.

I don’t even like shipping in general but the TikTok fandom keeps pissing me off. Stop acting like everyone has to ship the same things as you and stop commenting shit like ‘cute edit but I wish it was Aidlyn’ or ‘They’re just friends, they act like siblings’. Like yeah, they’re not canon but you’d have to be blind if you couldn’t see why some people ship it. Stop shitting on people’s ships and let them have their fun, we all know they’re not canon.

NONE OF THEM ARE.

Anyway, that’s the end of my rant. Sorry, I keep getting Ashler hate every time I search it up on TikTok. It’s so stupid and annoying, let people ship who they want in peace and stop undermining Ashlyn and Tyler's canon friendship and character development to shit on people’s ships. It’s an insult to the characters and your ability to read between the lines.

Live, Laugh, Love Ashler.

[thekittyburger]

punk blaze with crutches (look she’s been through shit she’s going to develop a standing problem dont @ me)

these will be available on my redbubble very soon

pose by kaosdisabledsupport on tiktok

very saturated and eye straining vers under the cut!

[homicidalbrunette]

Hey here's three minutes of Plane Jane and Katya vibing/flirting you're welcome

[dailykugisaki]

Day 159 | id in alt

Long overdue feast.

(Bears have absolutely no care if their prey is still alive whilst they eat, but they have a tendency to crush the lungs and bones of their prey while they're alive.)

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

Killjoy Day of the Dead where the ‘joys spray paint paths of their friends’ favorite colors to help lead them home. Where the Mailboxes are flooded with letters and gifts to loved ones. Where killjoys remember their loved ones and celebrate their lives. Where they give offerings to the dead and to the Witch in hopes that their friends will be able to visit them that night. Where the Witch guides the dead along the painted paths to the people they called home, so they’re not alone reading their letters and opening their gifts. Sometimes the Witch brings them all of the way back for that night, sometimes not. There is always next year, and the knowledge that your friends are there, even if you can’t see them.

Just. Killjoy Day of the Dead guys.

[leupagus]

Please note that this fic is going to take the better part of 2024 and probably 2025

(and given my track record might never be done):

Sansa

"Do you like the taste?" asked Littlefinger, watching her closely as she tried the wine. He always watched her closely.

They had stopped at the Inn at the Crossroads; she hadn't wanted to, but she would have had to explain to Littlefinger why. So she had choked down a meal and refused to think about the last time she had come through this way, where the first member of her family had been murdered in the stable while Joffrey had sniveled and lied and shown her, for the first time, who he really was.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she answered. "Why do men love it so much?"

Littlefinger shrugged. "It gives some men courage."

"Does it give you courage?"

He smiled, the way he did when she had stung him. He would take his revenge on her somehow, she knew. He was nothing like Joffrey, but there was a smallness to him that reminded her of the king.

The dead king, now.

A flash of armor to her right made her look up; a familiar woman, tall and broad of shoulder in a suit of armor, had approached their table. "Lord Baelish. Lady Sansa. My name is Brienne of Tarth."

Sansa opened her mouth to reply, to tell her she knew who she was, of course she knew. Tyrion had mentioned her often, usually after rebuffing yet another request by the lady of Tarth for an audience with Sansa. I hope you don't mind, and Jaime vouches for her, but Cersei has made it clear she's to go nowhere near you and frankly this giantess makes me a bit nervy. He'd been glad to recount the tale of Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime, traipsing through the Riverlands on their way to King's Landing.

Before Sansa could speak a word, Littlefinger had made some cutting remark, the sort he was so good at. She'd yet to be on the receiving end of any of them but she flinched all the same, watching Brienne's face. Littlefinger was something like Joffrey — and something like herself, too, when she'd been young and pleased at her own wit. Looking back, she knew now that she had only ever been cruel.

Lady Brienne seemed not even to hear Littlefinger; as though he were no more than a gnat to be tolerated until such moment as he could be swatted. She knelt, awkward but not clumsy, and looked earnestly up at her. "Lady Sansa. Before your mother's death, I was her sworn sword. I gave my word I would find you and protect you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel, and give my life for you if needs be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Would she have given the answering vow? She would never know, because once again Littlefinger was talking, sliding his glance over to Sansa to see what remarks might prompt a reaction. Sansa stayed still and watched as Lady Brienne's attention was at least drawn away, glaring at Littlefinger.

"Strange," Littlefinger was saying. "I knew Cat since the time we were children. She never mentioned you."

"It was after Renly's murder," said Lady Brienne, direct and blunt. She and Sandor would get along well, Sansa thought suddenly. Pity they had never met.

"Ah, yes," said Littlefinger. "You were accused of killing him."

Lady Brienne blushed, a splotchy red spreading across her cheeks. Shame, Sansa thought, but not guilt. "I tried to save him," she spat out. She did not glance over, to see if Sansa would believe her.

"But you were accused."

"By men who did not see what happened."

"And what did happen?"

"He was murdered by a shadow. A shadow with the face of Stannis Baratheon."

"A shadow? With a face?" Littlefinger turned to Sansa, and that was when she knew whatever he was about to say was a lie. "This woman swore to protect Renly. She failed. She swore to protect your mother. She failed." He smirked up at Lady Brienne. "Why would I want somebody with your history of failure guarding Lady Sansa?"

Lady Brienne made a face. "Why would you have any say in her affairs?"

"Because I am her uncle. I married her Aunt Lysa shortly before my beloved's untimely death. We're family now. And you are an outsider. Forgive me, Lady Brienne. But experience has made me wary of outsiders."

She gaped at him, then looked back at Sansa. "Lady Sansa," she said, and paused, as though at a loss for how to convince her. "If we can have a word alone?"

"Yes." Sansa rose, knocking into the table. The goblet of wine spilled and ran down her dress, but she was on her feet at last. The sellswords Littlefinger had brought with him moved in, one of them putting a hand on Lady Brienne's shoulder. She tensed and in just a few seconds there would be bloodshed, there would be someone dead on the floor and it would be her fault.

"Uncle Petyr," she said loudly, her heart rabbiting out of her chest, "Thank you very much for understanding. I will speak with Lady Brienne as you suggest, and then we shall resume our journey."

The sounds of eating and talking died out as faces turned toward her. A round-faced boy came bustling up, a wide, customer-friendly smile pasted on his face. "Is there anything I can help with, milord?" he chirruped.

"A room for the ladies," said Littlefinger, still watching her. She nodded very slightly and his mouth twitched.

"Have you anything on the floor above?" she added, addressing the boy with a nervous glance toward Lady Brienne.

"Er," came the reply, "Yes? Right this way, milady. Miladies."

Sansa leaned toward Littlefinger. He smelled of wine and the oils he used on his hair. "Could some of the guards watch the door?" she whispered. "And some near the stairs. Just…in case."

"Of course," he said, though his eyes were on her mouth.

The way Littlefinger had spoken of her mother, there had been a great rivalry between himself and Ned Stark; and before that a rivalry between himself and her uncle Brandon, who'd been betrothed to Catelyn before his murder. Littlefinger had always sounded like the defeated lover, the man who had nearly won his beloved's hand.

Mother had never mentioned Littlefinger. Father had, once they were in King's Landing and he'd been forced to admit an acquaintance. He'd sounded irritated more than angry; her mother had never loved him, had hardly ever thought of him. Her parents had lived and loved each other and all the while Littlefinger had stewed in his own curdled affections, imagining a love story that had never existed.

She could never decide what had moved her to kiss him on the cheek. Perhaps it had been a clever ploy to distract him, or a way to tell him she would return. She would have liked to have been that clever. But in the moment she could remember only how sorry she felt for him. "I'll just be a few moments," she promised him, lying.

Minutes later she was in a small bedchamber, with two dirty windows on each outside wall and the ominous creak of leather and metal just outside the door, signaling that Littlefinger's sellswords had taken up position. Lady Brienne, for her part, looked as uncomfortable as she had downstairs. "Thank you for speaking with me, my lady," she said.

"Can you fight them all?" Sansa asked her, keeping her voice down. They would need to be overheard soon, but they had a few seconds. Enough time, perhaps enough time. "If there's four in the corridor, and four downstairs."

"What? Yes, of course," said Lady Brienne, expression torn between confusion and offense. She fought off a bear once, Tyrion had told her with glee. Even beat my dear brother in a sword fight. When he still had both hands.

Sansa went to the first window. A long drop onto hard ground, and it faced the road as well as the hitching posts. The second was more promising: hay bales stacked haphazardly next to the wall, and the wood only twenty hards away.

"Start talking," she hissed at Lady Brienne.

She frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Sansa mimed opening the window. "Start talking. About anything. Honor or duty or what my mother was like. Whatever you'd say if you were trying to convince me."

Lady Brienne's eyes widened in understanding. "I…am not much for speeches, my lady," she said slowly, then more loudly as Sansa pulled open the window slowly, mindful of any squeaking. "But I found your mother an honorable woman, and your brother too. I brought Ser Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing at her request, so that you might be returned to your mother in exchange."

It would never have worked; she'd known that even then. The Lannisters did not understand the notion of letting go of an advantage, once they'd sunk their teeth into one. Even Tyrion had never offered to take her to her family once they'd been married. He'd had his reasons, and they had been good ones, but she'd learned another lesson that day. "So you sacrificed your oath to protect my mother for an oath to protect me?" she asked, making sure her voice carried as she swung her legs over the sill. "How can I know you'll not abandon me, too?"

It was important not to think. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it.

She held her breath, put her hands over her mouth, and fell.