#{ but bless

[waldronconnells]

my girl vic coming through for robert, like i knew she would eventually. take that, haters.

[pixlokita]

Happy pride! Have some dragon safe, shh skittles!

I have no idea what that even means but :v happy pride to you as well ✨🌈🐉

[soclonely]

The Jedi as Their Reactions To Seeing Themselves On Tumblr

Anakin- *Rants as he is scrolling* “Listen bugs are a completely valid form of pro-” *stops and panics when he gets to the screencaps and gifs of him and padme, face getting red as he quickly scrolls only to to land on RexWalker art, scrolls, Obikin, scrolls faster, faints* Ahsoka- “I don’t know why they think I’m basically a lizard!“*grumbles as she curls up next to a warm water pipe in the bathroom* ”But there is some nice montral art of mine! “ Obi-Wan- “I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH COMMANDER CODY” Mace Windu- “So are we just going to ignore all of this proof that palpatine is the sith we are looking for?.. Wait.. Why isn’t my head shiny in these? I spend hours waxing!“ Yoda- *sees grogu photos* “The father I am not.“ Ki-Adi-Mundi- *hums along as he glances through all his gifs, pleased with himself* Aayla Secura- “Blys Dumptruck WHAT??” stares at the fanart of it for a few minutes Quinlan Vos- OKAY I MAY BE IN LOVE WITH OBI WAN. *as he reads the comic strip*

Kit Fisto- “What is an alein f--cker?... wow I.. I do look sort of good without my shirt” Plo Koon- *messages all the creators individually asking if he can save and print the fanart of all his kids- er troopers.*

[anyataylorjoys]

Wait I reached 3k followers. In this economY?

[state-of-franklin]

Also the characters are getting therapy. And its portrayal as them not being weak but a natural part of healing to need help.

YES

YES

FCUK YES

BLESS THIS FANDOM THANK YOU FOR THIS NEWS

WOOOOOOO

[momentofmemory]

lockdown flashfic

Fandom: Tom Holland Spider-Man (MCU)

Timeline: Post-Endgame, Pre-FFH

Warning: Quarantine/Pandemic reference

Characters: Peter Parker, New York

Words: 752

Author’s Note: There’s a live stream of Times Square running and that, combined with the lockdown challenge from last month, inspired this. Very short because I wrote it basically from start to finish in the past hour, when I should have been winding down for bed.

[read the expansion on ao3]

>>if there’s no neighborhood

Empty is not a word Peter’s ever thought to pair with the streets of New York.

Plenty of other words, for sure.

Chaotic. Loud. Crowded. Sweltering. Freezing. Destroyed. Rebuilt.

But New York—New Yorkers—are tough like that. A thousand and one paradoxes wrapped into one.

In hindsight, it’s probably something they could’ve seen coming. Alongside Earth’s sudden influx in population (or rather, repopulation), there’d been a resurgence of old diseases—and the introduction of new ones, thanks to the accompanying alien invasion. With housing up in the air for so many people and the recrowding of cities, it was probably only a matter of time before something spiraled out of control.

It just would’ve been nice to have more than a couple months between global crises.

There’s a rhythm to his city: the way it pulses with life and death and cheering and weeping. Its streets are its veins; its people its lifeblood. But tonight, they’re just—

Empty.

(Peter doesn’t know how a city that’s so quiet can feel so loud.)

As it is, Peter’s not even sure if he’s supposed to be out. Vigilantism has always been on the fuzzier edges of the law, so it’s not like he’d expected to see his name listed under essential jobs, but—well. Swinging some two hundred feet above the ground probably covers the appropriate social distance guidelines.

He normally keeps his patrol to the confines of Queens; content to leave the other boroughs to their own vigilantes, but tonight he just keeps swinging—pausing only to do an extra backflip for the lonely kids staring out from their fire escapes, or to run a quick errand for at-risk tenants afraid to leave their apartments.

(He’s never been more grateful for the antimicrobial properties built in to his suit; he takes as many grocery trips as he can when he realizes the potential.)

Eventually he makes his way across the bridge and into Manhattan; he doesn’t realize his aimless swinging has a goal after all until he drops onto the flag pole looking over Times Square.

It’s a bizarre sight. He can see the pavement, for one; strange patterns darkening the concrete from where cars normally sit or pedestrians walk, and one of the restaurant dining areas has been cleared out—all the empty chairs stacked mournfully by the fence.

There are no tourists, gawking up at the sky and crowding the sidewalks. There are no car horns, blasting out their displeasure at the others’ existence. There are no voices, tripping over each other in a blend of tongues and emotion.

The large screens rotate on unbothered. Traffic lights tick on and off for no one. Pigeons coo from the eaves.

Rationally, Peter knows the empty streets are nothing like the carnage left behind in the wake of the first Snap, but he can’t help but find the silence oppressive. Can’t help but wonder how long.

Two cars pass by. A bicycle. Three pedestrians, separate: keeping to opposite sides of the pavement to avoid contact. Peter watches as one of them halts at the edge of street and nods to the other. She smiles, and quickly crosses—the first only proceeding once she’s past.

Peter blinks in surprise.

He’s lived in New York his entire life—just like May, just like Ben. So there’s not much he doesn’t know about its inner workings.

He knows there’s no such thing as jaywalking; that finding a cab at five p.m. is hopeless; that driving is always, always slower than the train, no matter what the cabbie says. He knows how to argue in six different languages even if he doesn’t know how to say hello; knows all the bodegas with the best deals; knows that the train is simultaneously the most hallowed and most godless place in the entire city.

And he knows, most importantly, that no one ever willing gives up the right of way on the street.

He watches the two New Yorkers leave until they’ve both either rounded a corner or simply walked out of sight, then sinks lower into his crouch in thought.

During the Blip, New York’s streets were empty because someone decided to take.

But now—now New York’s streets are empty because millions of people decided to give.

Give time, to find better options. Give space, to the overcrowded hospitals. Give resources, to the ones that need it most.

After a moment, he fires a web at a nearby building and swings down.

He starts stacking chairs.

[eldesperadont]

so did anyone ever bring this up? whoever messed up his laundry: thank u