I Laughed So Hard I Woke Up The Cat.  Now He’s Staring At Me, Trying To Decide Whether He Needs To

Please vote! Even if it feels like you are only voting against the worse candidate or voting for the Less Bad candidate -- we need those votes to make sure we don't get the worse candidate.

Also, vote in all of your local elections if you can. Those are the people who decide whether books get banned in your community's schools and libraries. They decide whether your local police department gets training on de-escalation procedures or bigger guns. They are behind your community's social safety nets (or lack thereof), what types of community events are held, what's in your local parks, and much more.

Voting for Democrats is the "leaving the house, getting some exercise, and drinking more water is good for your mental health" of societal change. Everyone keeps telling you to do it, worst of all your mom keeps telling you to do it, and it's not a magical cure-all, but it actually works and rotting in your room shitposting does not help in either scenario.

Are there any poly people who don’t think there should be more healthy polyamorous representation??

Raise your hand and reblog if you think there should be more healthy polyamorous representation 🙌🏾

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Pride bees! They're so cute!!

I have no idea if anyone feels the need for more pride flag colored bees, but here is a few more.

UPDATE: i guess there was a need so MORE BEES.

Swoon!  I love both of the little dragony things.  

May you always remember to carry your preferred supplies just in case.

May your next period be light and end quickly

Swoon!  @winterhawkkisses did an adorable story for my prompt.  Isn’t it wonderful?  (If you’re curious, this is the cake.)

I love your stories! Even when they don't have kisses, they brighten my day. Do you take image prompts? I saw a heart&arrow cake on Cake Wrecks and thought, "Bucky would definitely get that for Clint!" I'm torn on whether it would be a joke or an actual attempt at a romantic gesture though. I can't include a link to it here, but it's the last picture on the Feb. 8 post of Cake Wrecks.

“Mmph?” 

“It is Valentine’s day, Clint.” 

Clint attempted to unstick his eyelashes, shuffled his legs up so he was almost kneeling, considered shifting his face away from the pillow and then dismissed the idea. 

“Tony?” 

“I can hear the question, why is there a question? Like you don’t live for my dulcet tones in your -” 

“It’s four in the fuckin’ morning, Tony, what’n the hell’re you -” 

“Okay first, it’s ten, and I don’t want to know what you were doing last night unless pictures are likely to surface. Second, it’s Valentine’s day, and instead of snuggling up to my boo I’ve been called down to security -” 

“How is that my -”

“- because your boyfriend is deeply inappropriate and possibly insane.”

“Boyfriend?” Clint kinda flinched at the word, hard enough that he was scooted forward, further up the bed, hard enough that his skull made noisy contact with the headboard. “Woah, who said boyfriend? I didn’t say boyfriend. Did he say boyfriend?” 

“Oh this is just - this is sad,” Tony said. 

“No, seriously, Tony, did he - ‘cos you shouldn’t just go throwing words like that around, okay?” Mostly Clint had got through this - whatever it was - by not thinking about it too hard. Like if he handled the thought too much he’d smudge it, somehow screw it up. 

“Get down here,” Tony said. 

Clint shuffled out of bed. He stepped into his sneakers, figured the reception staff had seen him in weirder get-ups than the shirt and sweatpants he’d slept in, ran a hand through his hair and squeezed some toothpaste onto his tongue. If he had any say in this he was getting straight back into bed when they were through, so that was as much effort as he was willing to put in. 

“ - sorry, Mr Stark,” someone was saying when Clint pushed open the door to internal security; someone fairly important by the sharp creases in their suit. “Obviously cakes don’t usually have bloodstains, so my crew wanted to be sure -” 

“It’s fine,” Tony said, flapping a hand at them absently. He squinted up at Clint, then gestured at the cake that was sitting in a box on the table. “Seriously?” he said. “This is your type?” 

The cake was in the shape of an anatomical heart, colored like it’d been bled dry with stark red veins scrawled over the surface. Piercing it, at an angle, was one of Clint’s arrows, purple-fletched, and there was dark icing blood spatter covering the baked pillow. 

It was a little terrifying, and a little beautiful, and somehow exactly fuckin’ right. He had no idea what the hell his face was doing, but something in Tony’s expression softened. 

“Maybe you should have the ‘boyfriend’ talk, huh?” he said. 

I love this idea!  However, I think you could do Midsummer Night’s Dream if you start and end the play outside (or next door, whatever) and use the large, labyrinthine coffee shop from Tempest for the woods.  Bonus points if the mechanicals do Pyramus and Thisbe as if it were set in a coffee shop!

Coffee shop AU, except the original media’s setting is otherwise largely unaltered – it just has a coffee shop in it now, or the nearest remotely plausible equivalent.