#source: someone in discord

[buckitweride]

The 9-1-1 fandom vibes on tumblr are honestly atrocious. Despite trying hard to curate a positive space, the weird energy still creeps in.

Anyone recommend any discord servers that are friendly to multishippers? I’d love to supplement my fandom experience with spaces that aren’t obsessed with “winning” against other fans of a TV show none of us have any control over in the first place 🙃

[northern-passage]

hey gang i just did a minor update for tnp over on itch but it was just some bugfixing, sorry to bait you 🙈 i did want to post a devlog/update/check-in type thing over there too since it's been so long since i've posted anything on itch, basically just confirming this is still being worked on and i'm planning for a content update this year.

i also did block off access to the highfell route for now, so hopefully people won't keep getting locked out of ch2.

[artemispt]

[476b]

oh he's sooooo cute

[katyspersonal]

People that headcanon Maria as butch lesbian and/or Eileen as black woman and still are kind and respectful to different takes are good and beautiful and lovely and Great Ones can't even help them to ascend any further because they are already perfect and they get so many bitches.

People that headcanon Maria as butch lesbian and/or Eileen as black woman and trash on different takes while accusing people of bigotries are terrible and dumb and absolutely repulsive and do not take homophobia/racism seriously if they think having different headcanons on fictional characters is any of these bigotries, they should stop using the pretense of caring about real world issues to get away with shunning, passive aggression, bullying and cruelty in the fandom for the "awful sin" of being different and Rom would never want to be friends with them

People that started to dislike these headcanons just because of bad experiences with toxic fans should temporarily stop keeping track on fandom updates so they can heal and rediscover them, contradictory spirit doesn't make you free from bad people but makes you another side of the bad people coin and true freedom lays in raging individualism, don't let them claim headcanons as their weapons because butch lesbian Maria and black Eileen did nothing wrong to you and exist to make people happy, it is their enforcers who are bad.

[gizmotemusic]

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

trying to gently explain to someone that you do not make an oc for a decades-old thing that has one of the most autistic and lore-entrenched fanbases without being willing to do either 1) a cursory wiki skim beforehand about the extensively well-established canon you're supposedly building your character off of, or 2) prepare for people to Not Like Or Understand What You're Going For, Here

tl;dr if you wanna do an alternate interpretation of a d&d god (and llolth??? being a sad misunderstood and distant power who didn't want any murdering done in her name????? and Personally treats a *male* cleric well???? is Definitely an alternate interpretation) then...make your own setting and write or DM for it?? instead of being mad that other people would share lore with you bc what you've come up with directly contradicts the canon that everyone else is going by???

[skxrbrand]

do you ever think about making a WH discord?

NAH LOL

[apr1lias]

What do you mean Gresini might announce their rider lineup today especially after Diggia has literally said he’s confident about keeping his seat in a very recent italian interview I’m-

[technovillain]

you, artist online. somebody has referenced you in conversation irl by your online handle and somebody else knew who you were talking about. somebody has kept up closely with your posts for a period of time like their morning paper. somebody found a music artist because of you, thinks of you when they hear them on the radio. somebody followed you years ago and remembers you randomly even though they can't find you. somebody has screenshotted and saved your posts and sent them in discord servers. somebody has made your drawings their lockscreen, added them to their favorites folder and looked at them when they're going through some shit, has sent them to their best friend and sparked conversation in private chats. your art in particular could be the source of a keen sense of nostalgia for someone. maybe they've even printed out your images using their home printer and taped them to their bedroom wall and they look at it every day and they never even told you. isn't that scary? isn't that awesome? remember this well.

submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known so that you may turn around and see the impact you leave and the light you cast on others.

[justplaindontask]

For discord mobile users, you have find your account ID by the following method:

Go into Settings

Scrolling down to Advanced in the App Settings category

Turn on Developer Mode

Go back to your list of servers and select a server (any server, but your personal one is easiest for the next steps)

Enter a channel, and then tap on the channel title in the upper left corner so that it brings up the list of members in the channel

Select your username from the list of members and bring up the profile page

Select the meatball menu (that’s the three horizontal dots) in the upper right corner

Select Copy User ID from the resulting menu

Go to a text processing app like notes or your email and paste the number there so that you can see it.

I regret to inform you that Discord's new Terms of Service includes an arbitration clause. You can find it here https://discord.com/terms/#16. This clause includes an opt-out, which I have transcribed here:

You can decline this agreement to arbitrate by emailing an opt-out notice to arbitration-opt-out@discord.com within 30 days of April 15, 2024 or when you first register your Discord account, whichever is later; otherwise, you shall be bound to arbitrate disputes in accordance with the terms of these paragraphs. If you opt out of these arbitration provisions, Discord also will not be bound by them.

These clauses are underhanded ways that corporations seek to deprive you of your right to participate in class-action lawsuits and your right to a jury trial. (This does only apply to us users ,other people still spread the word though )

[batbetbitbotbut]

Mooooooood

Someone in a weaving discord I'm in saw this much-jpg'd image on Facebook. They enjoyed it and crossposted it. I enjoyed it and asked if there was a source. Alas, unattributed. We would never know.

Not so! By their magical librarianship and citation-hunting powers, @ginneke tracked the image first to Pinterest, then a long-defunct blog, then a connection with the 1960s fairytale retellings of Amadel Williams-Ellis illustrated by one William Stobbs. He had the correct whimsical art style - a hit! Another server member suggested a likely candidate tale of Baba Yaga involving a cat and a loom.

Unfortunately, these books have never been digitised, not even the tables of contents, so there was no way to know whether they might be correct. And my various libraries had never heard of the books. However, for about £7 each on ebay they were within my shenanigans budget - I was invested now.

I ordered two, mostly at random. Leafed all the way through both of them, got nearly to the end with some delightful other creatures but not yet the Loom Cat...

..... and then all of a sudden there it was! In a Baba Yaga story in Round a the World Fairy Tales exactly as predicted! Success in tracking down an 80-year-old untitled children's book illustration via several people and much joy. I'm very satisfied and will put the full Baba Yaga tale in a reblog.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: Date nights are hard to come by lately, which is why you try to make the moment last a little longer.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Smut, Vaginal Sex, Car Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

You blast some of your favorite songs, loudly singing along as Zayne drives back home. His hand rests on your thigh, smiling as he hears your voice. You’re tone deaf, but it’s the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. His ears do need a break after a couple of minutes, he won’t lie, that’s why he sneakily turns the radio up. It’s a good thing you don’t notice.

Zayne chuckles, stealing a couple of glances at you whenever he gets the chance. It’s fair to say that date night was successful. After months of not getting time alone with you, he finally got a couple of hours with you. Complete peace and quiet. No kids.

“You surely love this song, huh?” Zayne comments as you sing your heart out. There’s no answer, but he doesn’t need one. You replay the song, singing even louder than before and Zayne laughs yet again. No matter how many years pass by, things still feel the same. The spark is still there, and it always will be.

“Thank you for tonight.” You end up turning down the radio, planning to enjoy the last few moments with your husband before getting home. Once you enter the door to your house, you’re mom and dad again. 

“I should say that to you.” He responds, squeezing your thigh. “Did you enjoy your meal?”

“It was so good, we should go there again!” You answer with the brightest smile on your face. He cherishes it, never getting tired of the sight. There’s many days that only the thought of your smile is what keeps him going.

“We’ll go back soon, we’ll just have to convince my parents to babysit again.” Zayne replies, and you hum in response. It’s such a shame that your date is over so soon because he had so much more in mind. Sadly, if he wants his parents to babysit again, it’s in his best interest to get home now. 

“Hopefully the damage tonight wasn’t too bad.” You comment before following up with, “I don’t know where they get their behavior from. You’ve always been so calm and–”

“And I didn’t procreate alone.” He cuts you off, earning a glare from you.

“Are you saying they get their hectic behavior from me?” You dramatically gasp, and while it’s the perfect time to pull on his ear and playfully scold him, you don’t want to distract him while he drives.

“I’m just pointing out they don’t get it from me.” He says, and you click your tongue. 

“I was a very calm child, for your information.” You argue, though it isn’t easy for him to buy. They had to get it from someone. “Maybe genetics skipped a generation.”

“Perhaps.” He answers, deciding not to play it cold. Yes, it’s best to be safe right now. “No point in finding the source. They’re still lovely.”

“Lovely is one way to put it. But you’re right, no point in finding the source because it’s not like we can send them back.” You joke, earning a laugh from the man. Zayne wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world, even if the hospital seems like a place of rest nowadays.

“Next date we should go to a movie. I know there’s one in theaters you’d love!” You change the topic as you near home. He asks a couple more questions about it, before you finally get home.

You sit in silence for a minute, not ready for the date to be over just yet. It’s late, the kids are surely sleeping, but the ambiance changes the moment you step inside. The date will be over, and while you had fun, it was too quick. You wish you had the chance to do something more… Something else.

You exchange a look, smiling to comfort each other. You don’t have to say anything else.

“Gimme a kiss.” You tell him, leaning in. Zayne meets you halfway, pecking your lips. You cup his face, kissing him with the passion you expected. Zayne kisses you back with the same passion. 

This is why Zayne’s kiss was quick– He knew that you’d quickly lose control if he had given you more. What happens if a neighbor walks by and sees as you get on top of Zayne? Or as you recline Zayne’s seat to make this more comfortable? 

“We have a bed inside.” He reminds you as you kiss his neck, fingers hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers trail up your thighs, going under your dress, contradicting his own words. 

“Just five minutes.” You mutter as you unbuckle his belt.

“Five minutes?” He almost sounds offended, but the hurt quickly fades when you begin to grind on him. Yeah, five minutes is more than enough. Zayne pulls your dress up, hands caressing your upper thigh. 

“I should leave you high and dry for telling me we have a bed.” You chuckle before your lips land on his again. Zayne’s hand pushes your panties to the side, fingers running through your folds.

“You wouldn’t stand it.” He tells you when you pull away, noting just how wet you are. So wet from nothing… Or maybe you’ve been thinking about him for a while.

“Yeah, just put it in.” You cover his mouth, hiding the smile that’s surely on his face at this point. He runs the tip through your folds, slowly pushing himself inside you. A breathy moan leaves your lips, feeling as Zayne’s cock fills you up. 

“Zayne–” You moan, slowly moving on his cock. You’re doing all the work, a task that’ll tire you out quickly. You take your hand off his mouth, holding onto his shoulders as you move back and forth.

“Don’t be too loud. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” He instructs you, hand going down to play with your clit. Eyes watch your every move. Watching as your face contorts with pleasure with every movement, your mouth agape as you moan.

Zayne bites down his lip, knowing that your moans are more than enough to draw attention to yourself. He likes to take precaution, even if it’s too late for anyone to walk by. Zayne takes control, setting a pace much faster than the one you had. 

“It’s too much, Zayne.” You breathlessly say, feeling as your orgasm slowly builds up and consumes you. He just knows you’re making a mess all over him– He’ll have to go upstairs quickly and ashamed, but right now he’s too lost in the moment to care.

“You’re doing a good job, baby. You can take it.” He assures you, thrusts slowly picking up more speed. “Nice job, love.”

He kisses you again, drowning out the loud moans that are followed by your orgasm. You bite down his lip, overwhelmed by the feeling. 

Zayne slowly loses that control he overtook. His thrusts slowly get sloppy while his breath gets caught up in his chest. It slowly becomes too much for him to handle. You feel so perfect around  him, it’s hard for him to keep his composure.

You swear you hear a curse underneath his breath as he empties himself inside of you. You’re both panting, looking into each other's eyes. You’re still for minutes on end, unwilling to go back inside just yet.

When Zayne finally pulls out, he quickly fixes your panties, not wanting the mess to drip down all over him. You help him fix himself, slowly buttoning his shirt, stealing a couple of kisses with every other button.

“You’ve been taking your birth control, right?” He asks, and you hum in response. He kisses your forehead before opening the door. “Time to face my parents.”

“You got that covered, right?” You smile, kissing the tip of his nose before getting out of the car. Before he can answer, you’re walking away. Zayne clicks his tongue before chuckling. At least date night was successful.

[janus-cadet]

So, hm, I may have my attention span stolen by yet another god of Discord. Lux was absolutely amazing in his lil disguise, and, well- that leads to yet another tarot card.

But oops, I tripped! There might have been a slight addition to the card, in the form of three other gods of the Pantheon, and one very distressed Doctor.

(Don't be fool, I'm sure he's having a great time. We know how much he likes dangerous murderous people, especially the blondes one)

Why the Five of Wands, tho? Well, that's actually very easy to answer- because that's The card for Discord. What else than the Pantheon to represent it? It's a card that express conflict, as in, you're un the midst of a battle (poor you, Doctor) that you simply can't escape. Don't expect to solve it with nicey dialogues and come to any common ground: everyone is stuck on what they want and cannot be bothered to hear what the others have to say. Maybe they simply couldn't be bother to care, vast beings that they are; all the more frustrating, because you know that if you could have them hear you out, much good could come from an association. It's complete chaos and disorder, from the whole human race driven mad by a giggle, or an entire theater of missing people. All you can do is rise above the mess; if they won't listen to reason (or a proposal to go play among the stars, which may or may not be due to your inability to be normal about blond murderers), then, you'll have to take action. You have to try to LISTEN. If you really do, well- you might actually find a surpringly nice end to the conflict you brought. Looking at you, Toymaker. Gonna make you eat your "and yet", idiot.

The card also stands for change and instability, which is the very thing those gods stand for- as shown by the effect they have on your reality, and the consequences they can bring upon your world. Tho the change, sometimes, can be positive; every transformation is not from flesh to dust. Maybe, sometimes, you'll get to turn into infinite light or something (if you're lucky and don't end up eaten by your own piano, or origamied into your own realm made small). All in all, this chaos is ultimately the source of dreadful inner conflict for you. Your perspective is constantly challenged by someone else, by new informations, and your approach to the growing problem cause you a tone of moral dilemmas.

Unfortunately, it does not look like it's going to get better for you, Doctor. Oopsie!

And there we are, for the eleventh Doctor Who tarot card of the lots! To think that this all started with wanting to draw the Masters, and now, I'm sixty cards in. We're nearing the end....

[ayyy-pee]

⦂ 𝕝𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕙 𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕙

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader WC: 1.5k Summary: You're starving. And time is just not moving fast enough for you. Art: maoyaoyao519

A/N: Some Nanami fluff because I miss him so bad. I didn't proofread this because whatever! If you see a typo, no you didn't LMAO

You think you hate clocks.

Not digital ones, but the damn ticking ones. What are they called? Analog? Yeah those. 

Yeah, you are slowly, but surely growing to hate those. The ticking that accompanies each move of the seconds hand is driving you nuts the longer it goes on. Not to mention there seems to be no point in it seeing as the damn minute hand never seems to move. Or maybe it does, and you’re just too busy glaring at it to notice.

Regardless, you need time to hurry up.

Your brain feels foggy and your stomach hurts because you’re absolutely starving. It’s your own fault, really. You overslept and ended up bolting out of the house without anything but a granola bar in your purse. And who even knows how old that thing is? You couldn’t even read the expiration date on the crinkled packaging, so you played it safe and discarded it. Now you’re wondering how gross it would be if you dump all of your garbage out just to find it again.

But you won’t. Instead, you’ll wait impatiently for your lunch order to arrive. That is, if time ever decides to take mercy on you and speed up.

It won’t, though. And as if time wasn’t moving slow enough, your boss seems to be punishing you by throwing an impromptu meeting on your calendar the hour before your lunch is scheduled and has been talking in his usual monotone about the most boring topic ever.

It’s difficult to pay attention, to hear anything when your head is throbbing, your stomach is killing you and it’s growling obnoxiously beneath your desk. And that goddamn clock won’t stop ticking! You drop your head into your hands, biting down the groan threatening to bubble up from your chest.

You should have taken a certain someone’s advice and kept snacks in your desk. Well, you did have snacks in your desk. You ate them all months ago and never bothered to restock. You should have listened! Maybe then you wouldn’t be sitting here miserable and ready to take a bite out of your keyboard.

The sound of your name pulls your gaze back to the source – your computer, where your manager awaits your answer to a question you didn’t hear. “You okay? You seem distracted.”

“Oh. No, I’m fine. I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“Looking over the numbers for last months projects, I’m seeing–” 

He drones on and on about finances and decimals, asking you for the projections. All a bunch of boring things that you really could not give a shit about right now if you tried. Because you are distracted, very much so.

“We’re coming up on time, so we’ll call it here,” your manager finally announces, and you damn near burst into tears now that this stupid meeting is over. “Let's reconvene later this afternoon. That work for everyone?”

“Yep, bye!” You jump from the call, not willing to spare another second in this godforsaken room until you get your hands on some–

Light taps on your office door, similar to that clock ticking nearly make you want to scream. Please don’t let it be another colleague coming to talk about this bullshit job or you’re going to rip their head off!

“Come in,” you try to call cheerily, but it comes out as more of a snarl.

The door cracks open slowly and a head of blonde hair emerges from the other side – your husband, the relief that fills you is one you can’t put into words. 

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks, teasingly. He knows you’re about two seconds away from losing it, could feel the tension against the door when he knocked.

You let out the biggest sigh, pouting as he enters your space, quietly shutting the door behind him. In his arms are several bags, and the smell that wafts through the air and straight to your nose is heavenly.

“Kentooooo,” you whine, and he chuckles as he sets the bags down on your desk. He carefully removes all the items inside each bag and your eyes water at the sight of everything in front of you. Your incredible husband seems to have brought an assortment of dishes and has laid said spread out in front of you. Is it too much? Maybe. But you know you’re going to take a bite of every damn thing.

“Sorry it took me so long. I had no idea what you were in the mood for,” he explains, taking the seat in front of your desk. “I just stopped by a few different places and picked up things I thought you’d like.” 

You tut, opening one of the containers, which holds a ham sandwich inside and he quickly reaches for the box, snatching away the meal you’re currently salivating over. “Not that one. You know you can’t have deli meats.” The deep frown that settles on your face is enough to make Kento wince, but he brushes it off, used to this reaction by now.

“Doctor’s orders,” he reminds you, and you roll your eyes.

“Dumbass doctor…” you mutter. “I told you what I wanted, though.” You try another box this time. But after a few seconds of the lid not budging, you think it must need the damn jaws of life to open. 

Your husband shakes his head. “You texting me in the middle of my meeting to ‘feed you or you’re going to commit heinous crimes’ doesn’t exactly tell me what you want.” He leans forward, removing the lid to the container that you’re struggling to open yourself. It contains paella that smells absolutely divine. You dig in immediately, eyes rolling to the back of your skull with the first bite. “Besides, you never want the same thing twice so –”

“Hey, I’ll eat anything!” You argue with your mouth full, which only makes your husband grin the tiniest of grins. “It’s your picky daughter that won’t let me have peace.” With your fork, you point down at your stomach – large, round and wiggling as your daughter dances with delight in your belly.

“She seems to like that, though,” Kento notes, a smile of pride on his lips. Of course he’s pleased with himself to have found something your daughter enjoys enough to let you keep down.

You nod, filling your mouth with another spoonful. Kento takes this moment to take a bite from the sandwich he picked up for himself. He watches you take a bite of other items he’d brought, sometimes mixing two different things that would make any non-pregnant person sick to their stomach. But you seem to enjoy it, and that’s all he cares about in all honesty.

He’ll give you whatever you want. After all, you’re giving him everything he wants and more. Almost nine months pregnant, a top performing director at your company and the most perfect wife he could ever hope for. Yeah, he’d find a way to give you the world if you asked for it.

Kento loves you. He loved you before your pregnancy and he somehow loves you even more during it. He didn’t think it would be possible to love someone with your entire being, and yet, even with sauce on your chin and crumbs hanging onto the corners of your lips, Kento thinks you are the most beautiful person on earth. He wonders if your daughter will be as beautiful as you.

He thinks so.

She will be the perfect blend of you and him, after all. You call him handsome, sexy, hot, all the time. He’s not certain he agrees with all of those adjectives, but he’ll take your word for it. You, however, he has never doubted are absolutely stunning, breathtaking, gorgeous and any other word that could be used to describe the beauty you hold.

He thinks your daughter will be just as gorgeous, and in a few weeks time, he’ll get to experience holding the love you two created in his arms and bear witness to her beauty firsthand.

To say he’s excited is an understatement.

Your satisfied groan pulls Kento from his daydream to find you leaning back in your seat and rubbing your belly.

“How was everything?” He asks, tossing his empty container in the garbage can beneath your desk. He packs up the half eaten leftovers to take with him. He’ll have to head back to work soon. He hasn’t said anything, but his phone has been vibrating in his pocket the entire time he’s been here. It’s probably Principal Yaga. Kento is a little ashamed to admit that he up and left in the middle of their meeting once he’d received your text. He doesn’t feel bad about it, though.

“Tasted like heaven,” you beam. “Thank you so much, babe.”

“Anything for you, love.”

Kento scoots around your desk and you spin in your chair to face him. He kneels before you, placing his large, warm hands against your stomach. He feels the baby move immediately, pressing her tiny foot or hand up into his palm. He can’t stop the wide, toothy smile that spreads across his face.

“She’s happy,” you giggle, smiling softly when your husband nuzzles his nose against you. Your fingers find his hair, stroking through the soft blonde locks and Kento hums.

“And you?” His brown eyes find yours, full of adoration. “Are you happy now?”

“With you, I’m happy always.”