#(usually)

[entityoffline]

sorry he got a little nervous

[notnosimp]

I call them the condiment duo, the ketchup and mustard homunculi, the red and yellow blobs, tweedledumb and tweedledumber, the gay assholes,

[coquettemouseevil]

I don't care that Leo is only 15 centimeters shorter than Jason, that's ridiculous, I'm going to make him short for real. Have you ever meet someone a head taller or shorter than you? Then you know

[chubby-aphrodite]

what if. aroace kris dreemurr. feeling disappointed that they might lose their friendship(s) to romances. feeling so isolated on so many levels, being the only human in a town of monsters and growing up wanting to be a monster so bad. already watched their brother fall in love with their friend's older sister and both of them becoming different people together until dess... dess-appeared... and asriel grew up and went away to college.

flirting with everything and everyone exclusively as an act of play. because it's funny. relationships are funny. the way people get into non-platonic relationships is funny. and they have the last laugh because they're just fucking with everyone. they get flustered and kris is just there completely straight-faced. it's funny. until it isn't and someone takes it seriously. someone that reminds kris a lot of themself.

am i making any sense.

[evilminji]

You know what we never see?

Time travel AND SI-OC! That's right! We combining shit!

Hear me out: Everything is Super Turbo Fucked™. The jedi order has fallen and everyone is, presumably, dead. Smoke curls on the horizon, as the only home generations of Jedi have ever known burns. Almost lazily.

Like some terrible monument to Palpatine's greed. His hatred.

The scent of blood and scorched flesh, overwhelming.

Darkness spills from halls once filled with light.

There... there are so many bodies.

What do you do?

Trust in the Force. Which... is reminding you of a paper, which you studied long ago. On some minor Force Sect. Maybe you're Obi-Wan, maybe your Yoda, a badly injured Plo Koon, barely made it home. Perhaps even the formidable Madame Nu. Fresh from setting FIRE to the greatest repository of knowledge the galaxy has even known, if only to keep it from Sith hands.

Regardless? You have skill. Nothing left to lose.

(And truely... only someone with NOTHING left to lose would attempt such madness.)

Regardless? You disappear, faster then they could ever hope to find you. To a planet, barely populated, that once held grand traditions of it's own. There was a plague, once. Natural or sent by a Sith, no one is certain. But it destroyed them. A grand Force Sect, widdled down to nothing ruins and rumors.

How fitting. That you should come here now.

Beneath the ruins, behind long forgotten vault doors, sits a room caked with dust.

And beyond that room? A room pristine. Unnaturally so, some might say. That is... if they could not FEEL the way the Force pulls there. Like standing at the edge of a blackhole made of Light. Able to look down into it's riotous, screaming, heart. By all the stars at once, with no place for void.

It. Is. Awe.

Awe, in that it is both great and terrible. Beautiful. Sublime. Impossible in it's Creation and Change. To touch it, is to be consumed. That's why they did not, the Worshipers here. Merely considered it. Viewed it. Meditating upon what they Saw.

Some considered them insane. Not only for living so close to a Force Nexus of such power...

But for prying it open further.

Yet? Standing there... they can feel their fellow jedi. Hundreds and hundreds of them. All those lights, suddenly gone from the galaxy. They're all right here. Everything is Here. Mere steps away. Just... just past the safety line upon the floor.

Grief is powerful. But their duty, as a Jedi, is stronger. They make themselves focus. Even as their flesh feels like it will vibrate apart, atom by atom. Even though their SOUL feels bigger and bigger, the closer they get. To... to that Brilliance. That endlessness. This peak, into the beating heart of the Force itself.

They are One with the Force. They are not afraid.

And it is with them.

Stepping inside...

Is weightless. Formless. Without borders or Self. Instant death, yet endless power. Gifted freely. Because of course! Why not? None of us need it now. Want it. What use is power? What foolish CONCEPT, "power". We are endless. Everything. One. There is no need to-

But... We... I need to...

An anchor. They... they need an anchor. Something to focus themselves. Someone? The others try to help. But they are disoriented. So very disoriented. Full of fading shock and the memories of pain. The shifting of solid life, to lumosity. No. It has to be... someone else.

So, together, They reach.

They FIND.

Smash cut to years earlier! Because time is a construct! And every where and when is simultaneous! Our dearly beloved Time Traveler? Rocks up to the council?? With a fuckin BABY. Like??

What... what'cha got there? Oh. You know. Their child.

As in...? You FOUND this child? The drop off, perhaps? Because they are VERY clearly a different species to you, so like... No. No, they're pulling a Skywalker (who?). This is their Literal, Actual, Child™.

They are Made Of Midi-chlorians. (You mean they have a high-) (No. I know what I said. Kindly keep up.) They are, in fact, a Goo Baby. Immaculately Conceived and popped out of the thin blue nothing!

Nexus gave um too me.

They are QUITE LITERALLY a macro colony of midi-chlorians being piloted by a Force ghost. Or, possibly, that SAME colony? Achieving sentience. Either way? Their name is... *looks at child* *child shrugs* still being voted on. Because the colony hasn't agreed on one yet. You may refer to them a Jedi Baby. *the infant waves* o/"

Like? Have they LOST THEIR DAMN MINDS?

No. But certain individuals bout to lose THEIRS. Along with the skull containing it.

Tell me you do not wanna see Yoda show up with an unexplained baby. Go on! Look me in the face and LIE. Like? No one knows how his species reproduce. But SURELY? Surely!! This is weird even for them, right???

Or Madam Nu. Respected Elder. Suddenly? Hidden pregnancy?! WHAT. FROM WHERE. WITH WHO????!!!!!!

And just? Obi-Wan. Shows up. Wearing a baby sling. There is a BABY in that baby sling. What do you MEAN she's yours!? Padawan Kenobi!! EXPLAIN. (Qui-gon is losing his mind. Dooku is going to murder... everybody. Whomst!? Was it a senator?! He bets it was a senator!! THATS IT. HES BURNING THE SENATE DOWN)

Like? Goo baby knows Star Wars Lore but can't really help. The TIME TRAVELER is a native to this universe, a bamf, and speed running the Sith slaying process. 1000 years of plotting going up in flames! Record time! But HOLY SHIT... why is that jedi? Running around with a BABY!? Did you bring a BABY into a FIREFIGHT!?

(Meh. We're both dead anyway. Besiiiiides, we have the Force.)

Horrifying! Oi, Jedi! Come get your crazy person! *they've already disappeared and everything's on fire* oh fuck!

@babbling-babull @mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @leftnotright @worm-strung-string @spidori

[wanderintofics]

people who talk about Nightwing having a more "human" element are a little bit telling on themselves. what Nightwing has is a more positive social element. that's it.

[dr-lemurr]

I have seen posts theorizing that Shane would likely have been touch starved because he does not enjoy hugs from his own family, let alone other people touching him. However, as an elite athlete he would be treated and thus touched by the medical staff quite regularly. They even travel with the team. 

Suppose that while Shane is uncomfortable with touch generally, his favorite physical therapist has worked with him to the point that Shane actually enjoys getting a full body massage from her (and her only). Like yoga, it’s a time when he can just be in his body without so many thoughts. 

When Shane moves to Ottawa he keeps turning down massages and seems to shy away from talking with the physical therapy staff at all. Ottawa’s lead physio is curious what’s going on, since Shane’s medical records from Montreal list regular massage therapy and he would certainly benefit from continuing it. After confirming that Shanes’s permission is on file, Ottawa checks in with Montreal’s equivalent. She compares Shane to a feral cat. You have to ease him into it extraordinarily slowly. He doesn’t like to be touched much. Food and pain are not motivational in either direction. But if you’re kind and patient and start small, eventually you just might get there. Most importantly, do not try to treat Shane or discuss anything remotely medical with other players in the room. Massages are always in private only.  

One day Ilya is ready to leave the training facility and cannot find Shane anywhere. He wanders back into the physical therapy suite and asks the physio who Shane now seems to be friendly with if they have seen him. Yes, the physio tells him. Shane seemed extraordinarily relaxed after his massage and he’s still in the private massage room snoozing. Ilya immediately asks if they’d show him some massage techniques. He loves nothing more than getting his hands on Shane and helping him chill out.