#Proofreading Tool Online

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[blushofeve]

Cam Girl 3

PART 1 & PART 2

pairing: Caleb x Cam girl!reader

summary: Caleb stalks you and uses your mutual friend, MC, to finally get to fuck you irl.

themes: the reader is a cam girl, strangers to lovers(?), sexual tension, sexual content, porn with plot stalker Caleb

word count: 2.7K

tags (bc they asked): @calebswife , @mcdepressed290

A/N: This is not proofread, please let me know if there are any mistakes :)

you can also read this on ao3

Weeks had passed since that livestream. You’d done more sessions—some cute, some teasing, a few downright sinful—but no matter what you posted, you always noticed him. @Apple.Prince. He was watching everything, always first to comment, always sending little hearts, and gifts off your wishlist and paying for private calls like clockwork. He’d become your favourite. You’d never admit it aloud, but his username gave you a little flutter each time it popped up. You didn’t know much about him, just his voice from your one private call, and the feeling that you were never quite alone when he was watching.

And you were right.

What you didn’t know was that Caleb wasn’t just watching you online. He had access to things others didn’t. After all, being the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel had its perks— classified databases, surveillance tools, and tech most civilians couldn’t even imagine. And he was already breaking the rules just to be near you.

It started with the voice match. He’d run a background trace on your voice from the stream, imagine his surprise when he finds out you and MC were friends, he found videos and pictures of the two of you in group hangouts on your Moments page. He was speechless. Even though he didn’t expect anything less, you were beautiful. It’s safe to say that he didn’t get much sleep that night.

That mutual friend was the thread. He pulled on it gently at first, asking MC harmless questions, subtly steering conversations. Then, more directly. He knew MC had met with you recently, though she didn’t mention your name.

Caleb already knew it was you.

So, when MC invited a few friends to go to a bar. He pulled strings to make sure he’d be there too. “My vacation is almost up. We should hang out together as much as possible before I leave yea?” He had been slipping in quiet suggestions like these and talking about places to go, places that usually involved groups.

You were hesitant when MC invited you, you had plans to do a stream that night but it could wait. “It’s just a small get-together,” she’d said. “Simone said you’ve been swamped with work all week. A change of scenery would be good.” “Besides, I’m bringing a friend. You’ll like him.” You’d rolled your eyes, expecting the usual suspects: some cocky guy with a too-tight shirt and even tighter opinions. You weren’t here to be impressed. You were just here to get out of your head.

The bar was buzzing, with low music, dim lights, the comforting clink of glasses and casual laughter. The air smelled like citrus peels and whiskey. You perched on a velvet bar stool, legs crossed, fingers wrapped around a chilled glass. A blush-hued cocktail MC had ordered it for you. “It looks like you,” she’d grinned. Then came the voice. Deep. Polished. Familiar in a way that made your skin prickle. “Is this seat taken?” You looked up… and up. He was tall and broad in the chest and shoulders. Tousled brown hair, an edge of gold from the warm bar lighting. Not the type you’d forget easily. His expression was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, calculating quietly. “No,” you said, lifting your glass slightly. “All yours.”

MC returned just then and nudged the guy with her elbow. “There you are. Took you long enough.” He gave her a pouty look. “You’re the one who said ‘casual timing.’ I took it literally.” MC rolled her eyes and turned to you, grin stretching. “This is Caleb, my childhood friend. I told you I’d drag someone cool out tonight.” “Caleb,” you echoed, letting the name sit on your tongue. It was… familiar. Not in a memory sense, but more like a distant tug in your chest. You couldn’t quite place it. He smiled as he extended a hand to shake yours. His palm was warm, his touch firm but gentle. “Nice to meet you.” Your stomach flipped for no good reason. “You too.”

You talked for a while. All surface-level at first, music, drinks, random takes on bar aesthetics. He was surprisingly funny, dry with his humour, but earnest with his eyes. There was a softness beneath the smoothness. A type of stillness in the way he listened when you spoke. But then there were moments. Little things. When he said little jokes you swore you’d only said on stream before. When he looked at your necklace a moment too long, his purple eyes lingered on the gold apple charm. When he said your name and it curled in your gut the same way it had during that call. You shook it off. Maybe you were just projecting. But the way his gaze shifted to your mouth as you sipped your drink… The way he smiled when you laughed… The subtle flush on his cheeks when you teased him…

You didn’t even notice how close he’d gotten until you felt the warmth of his arm along yours, just brushing at the elbow. Caleb had a way of leaning in when you spoke like nothing else in the room existed. It was disarming. Flattering. Dangerous. You swirled the last of your drink, the melted ice clinking against the glass. “So, what do you do?” you asked, glancing at him over the rim. He paused. “He is the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel.” MC cut in and he nodded You blinked. “Really?” He smirked. “You don’t believe me?” “No, I do,” you said, setting the glass down. “It just… fits.” “How so?” You shrugged, suddenly feeling like the room had gotten a little warmer. “You sit like someone used to giving orders. And… you look like someone used to getting his way.” MC let out a laugh beside you. “She’s got you pegged, Caleb.” His gaze slid to yours. Something flickered there—amusement, maybe. Or something heavier. He leaned closer. “You’re pretty observant.” His mouth lifted in a slight smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Not completely. “That’s a nice necklace,” he said in a low voice. Your fingers instinctively moved to touch the apple charm. “Thanks. Guess it’s kind of a signature thing.” You spoke slowly, it was just a harmless compliment but it felt like more… MC mumbled something about going to find the rest of your friends and left.

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You and Caleb were left in the dim golden light of the booth, the bass from the speakers pulsing through the floor and into your feet. You sipped your drink, aware of the silence settling between you. He looked at you. The kind of look that made your spine straighten. “I think I’ve seen you before,” you said before you could stop yourself. “But I can’t figure out where.” His expression didn’t change, but his fingers stilled on his glass. “Same here,” he said softly. Something was off. Not in a bad way, but in a familiar way. A heat curled low in your belly. Your skin buzzed in anticipation. You played with the charm between your fingers. “Weird.” Then he said it, carefully. Almost too casually: “I always liked that necklace.” Your blood ran warm. Not cold—warm. Like embarrassment, like recognition, like something falling into place. He hadn’t said your necklace. He’d said that necklace. Like he’d seen it before. Like he knew it. You tilted your head to the side. “Are you sure we don’t know each other?” He shrugged, “I know you.” Your chest tightened at his words. He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke, “You looked so pretty in that set I bought you. I wanna see you in it again.”

Oh. It suddenly clicked into place.

“I.. don’t know what you’re talking about.” There’s no way this was actually happening. You thought you had done a good job concealing your identity and personal life. Caleb’s fingers ghosted over your collarbone and landed on the apple charm. “You know what I mean.” the tone of his voice immediately sobered you up. Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t move. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it, feel it through the small space still left between you. His fingertips rested lightly on the charm like he was waiting for you to flinch. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your eyes met his, and there it was—that same voice that had whispered to you, the same low growl that had drawn out breathy thank yous and soft moans from your parted lips. This wasn’t a coincidence. This was intentional. Calculated. And somehow, it didn’t feel wrong. “You stalked me?” you said, barely above a whisper. His thumb brushed over the apple, a quiet caress. “I just… wanted to meet you. For real. Not just through a screen.” You should’ve been angry. Violated. You should’ve pulled away, demanded answers, and stormed out. But instead, you stared at him, really stared. “You’re insane.” “I know.” Despite the absurdity of the situation, your body quietly screamed for him. As if reading your mind, Caleb kissed your neck. He didn’t fail to notice how your breath hitched and thighs pressed together. It wasn’t lost on either of you that you were in a public space. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” Common sense is screaming at you not to go, but come on— it was him. The guy who had been stuck in your mind for the last few weeks.

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To any normal person’s surprise, you found yourself in the back of your stalker fan’s car, all over each other. Caleb was ecstatic. Your kisses and touch were far more intoxicating than any alcohol he had that night. As you straddled him, his hands slipped up your dress and firmly gripped your ass. He dreamed of this. How soft you felt under his touch. Your soft moans as he kissed and marked your neck and chest. And how incredibly hard he was with you pressed against him. You couldn’t help yourself but grind up against him. Caleb let out a whiny moan into the crook of your neck and pulled you closer. “Please… please… let me fuck you. I wanna show you how good I am. I’ll be so much better than your toys.” He begged as he bucked his hips up into you. His needy, whiny tone snapped something inside you. You lifted yourself off his lap and narrowed your eyes. “No.” The word seemed to break something in him. His purple eyes seemed to gloss over with tears. “No?” He was so close to getting what he wanted— needed. “W-what’s wrong? A-are you mad at me?” You nodded and crossed your arms. “Yes. You stalked me, disregarding my privacy, and you think I’m just going to let you fuck me?” Caleb’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of what to say. “Please…” He moved so that you were beneath him and he lay down the seat. “I’m sorry,” He inched his face closer to yours and you moved back until you were fully laid down on the seat. “I just wanted you so bad. Really bad.” He returned to placing kissing on your neck. “And you want me too.” He sucked on your skin, leaving a dark mark. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeated apologies as he moved down your body, coming to a stop between your thighs. “Let me make it up to you. Please” Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Caleb’s pleading yet hungry look sent blood rushing to your face.

Before the word okay fully left your mouth, Caleb had buried himself between your thighs. He licked his tongue over your panties, making them even more wet. He moaned as he inhaled your scent and let out curses as his pants became increasingly tight. Your mind had filled with cotton. The feeling of his tongue through your underwear sent electric shocks through your body. Your panties found their way off you and into Caleb’s hand as he jerked himself off while burying his tongue in you. The feeling was euphoric. Caleb devoured you like a man starved, moaning shamelessly into you as if your pleasure was his only purpose. His tongue moved with practised precision like he’d memorised you—where to lick, where to suck, how to curl it just right to make your hips twitch and your thighs tremble. You gripped the seat for stability, one hand tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. The sound of it vibrated through your core, and you nearly came undone right then. “Fuck, Caleb—” you gasped, voice catching in your throat. Your body arched off the seat, thighs clenched around his head, and he just grabbed your hips and pulled you closer like he couldn’t get enough. When you came, it was sudden, loud, and shattering. He didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it, groaning as you grinded against his mouth. And even after you finally slumped back, breathing hard and completely wrecked, Caleb just looked up at you—lips swollen, chin wet, eyes wild. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he whispered, voice rough with restraint.

“Are you still mad at me?” Still catching your breath, you shook your head. “Can I please fuck you? Please.” You nodded. “Fuck… I promise,” he said, breathless, “I’ll make you forget every toy. Every other name. You won’t want anyone but me after this.” He crawled up and hovered above you. You watched him fumble for a condom in his pockets, the urgency in his movements making your pulse quicken. He tore it open, rolled it on with practiced ease, and looked down at you like he still couldn’t believe you were real. “You sure?” he asked, voice rough, body hovering over yours. You pulled him down by the collar of his shirt, pressing your mouth to his like it was the only answer you had. Your kiss was hot, messy, full of every dizzying want that had been building since the call. The stretch of him as he pushed in made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. Caleb groaned, low and guttural, forehead pressing against yours as he slid deeper, inch by inch. “Fuck— so tight,” he whispered, trembling with restraint. He bit his lip to stop another moan from escaping. He felt so good he almost came right there and then. You couldn’t breathe. Could barely think. He filled you completely, like he belonged there, like he was made for this. Once he was fully in, he paused, letting you adjust. His lips found your jaw, your neck, and he whispered your name like a prayer. You clenched around him in response, and he choked out a moan. He finally moved, slow, pleasuring thrusts that had you arching your back and your mouth falling open with each one. He kissed you like he needed to keep you quiet, swallowing your moans, like every sound you made would drive him over the edge.

“Oh god- Caleb,” Your nails dug into his back, “You feel so good.” That broke something in him. He picked up the pace, snapping his hips into you harder, deeper. The car rocked beneath you both, the windows fogged up, the space filled with your gasps, your whimpers, his soft curses. “Wanted this so fucking bad,” he said through gritted teeth. “Every night. Thought of you like this. Begging. Shaking. Needing me.” You were already close again— your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. “Caleb— I’m gonna—” “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his hand slipping between your bodies, thumb circling your clit. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.” You shattered again. Your whole body tightened, hips jerking, thighs trembling as the pleasure overtook you. He groaned, the feeling of you clenching around him pushing him over the edge. “Shit—fuck—I’m coming—” he moaned, burying himself deep as his whole body tensed.

He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead pressed against yours as you both caught your breath. Your hands moved to his hair, brushing it back from his face. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the galaxy worth chasing.

And maybe… you were.

Thank you for reading<3

Want to be added to my tag list?

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

She’ll be There

Sevika x Female Reader

Headcannons || Angst + Fluff

Cw: Mentions of self-harm (not fully described, I know it can be triggering), self sabotage, and mentions of binge eating disorder. Modern setting. Sevika has both arms (though it doesn’t have anything to do with the plot). Not a lot of in depth details, only because I didn’t want it to be uncomfortable or triggering.

Proofread || Note: It surprised me when I noticed there’s barely any recognition of binge eating disorder. And, so, I decided to write about it. Really sucks that a lot of people don’t even know that it exists. Also, no, I am NOT romanticizing sh and ed, this is just for readers who find comfort in these kinds of fanfics; ones who relate. (Also because I struggle with it.)

Sevika was one of those girlfriends who made you question if you really deserved her. One of those girlfriends that made you so happy that you were sure that all of it was all some sort of dream. She took care of you when you weren’t well. When you needed comfort and support. She was there regardless. You were a priority much greater than anything else, she loved you more than anything else.

But, there was always a sense of guilt that tugged at you whenever she showed affection. It was unfair to her that she had to do so much compared to other couples. It was like being a burden, a broken tool that wouldn’t fix. A tool that had to patched up daily, made sure it didn’t break itself again. You were sure she’d get tired.

But that day never came.

A healthy relationship with food was what you strived for. What you could only try your best for. Not even a few minutes after eating you were hungry again. Well, you weren’t actually hungry. Your stomach was half full and you weren’t needing more. It was just you being bored and eating being a way for you to comfort yourself. It was a coping mechanism that you’d picked up at a young age; and never noticed how horrible it was for you.

Sevika was aware of your problem, of the issues you had with food, and how it was difficult it was for you not to turn to food for distraction.

When you were upset, you’d grab yourself a plate of leftovers. When you were angry, you’d have a bowl of chips in your lap and munch on it. Even when you were happy, you’d make yourself some pasta. And, undoubtedly, your girlfriend was worried with the amount of food you’d eat in such a short amount of time.

Gradually, she decided to do something about it. Convincing you to tag along with her whenever she went out, making plans to go to your favourite bookstore, and even taking you shopping. She tried her hardest to distract you.

Sevika didn’t know much about your eating disorder, but she did her research. Reading books, searching online, and even asking you your struggle.

She’d ask you how you felt about the whole thing. What you thought. How you felt when you didn’t indulge in the urge and it felt after you ate. Your girlfriend had a lot of questions and you did your best at answering them. Some of them were ones you’d never thought of asking yourself, they had you thinking. And you appreciated her efforts in understanding.

Sevika would even cook your favourite food whenever you were genuinely hungry. She’d go on youtube and learn recipes for you, even make desserts so she knew you were full. Most of her attention would be on you, making sure your body was satisfied with your intake.

There was never a time where you felt that your girlfriend was tired of the extra care she gave you. In all honesty, that woman loved all of it. Doing small things for you, like making sure the proportions she prepared for you were perfect, like making sure your plate was full of the essentials; carbs, fibers, fats, all those good things.

And, at first, Sevika thought she’d made progress, made you better. But, on the day she found you in the bathroom with your wrists red was the day she assumed the worse. She thought, maybe, she’d made you feel a sort of way. Thought she’d made it worse. Thought she’d hurt your feelings and had pressured you.

She wrong about all those things.

Your girlfriend blamed herself for everything, as she tended to. You’d reassured her many times that it wasn’t her fault, that it was just the way you were born— also, false.

“Sev, I’m serious. It’s not your fault, it never was. You’re fixing something that can’t be fixed.” You’d say, sat next to her and watching as she only looked away. “Did I make you feel pressured? Or was it just me being obsessed with helping you? Be honest. I can take it.” Obsessed, huh?

“No. The things you’ve done for me are just.. too nice. You’ve helped me, Sevika, not made it worse.” She’d end up furrowing her brows. “So then, why’d you do that? Hurt yourself, I mean.” Her silver eyes would avoid your arms at an attempt to think positively. “I just.. it’s me. I’m a little frustrated at myself, it’s nothing.” Your girlfriend wouldn’t meet your eyes, let alone face you.

“Can you not?” Your tone a little less gentle. “You won’t even look at me.” Only because Sevika didn’t want to stare, make you feel uncomfortable. “All I’m asking is that you don’t look at me any differently. Please?”

It took time and patience for the woman to acknowledge your scars. She thought the subject was too tense, too awkward. But the first time she did, you ended up opening yourself to her. Letting her in on the small details she’d never thought you’d feel.

That was step one. Step two was helping you in other ways. Sevika would give you suggestions, instead of telling you what to do. Give you space and time to think by yourself. Give you advice and even be a source for you to talk about it with. All she wanted was for you to trust her, turn to her, and let her comfort you— instead of you having to look for that in other things.

Over time, Sevika had stopped avoiding confrontation; only when the topic wasn’t sensitive. She’d ask you if you felt any urges, if you’d even tried doing it again. And, slowly, you began saying no. It wasn’t a lie, no, you’d just stopped thinking about it.

And when she noticed that, your girlfriend felt a sense relief she’d never felt before. She was glad she could do something, even if it was just sharing her ideas and being your safe place.

Sevika loved you, she’d made that quite obvious in the way she stuck by your side. Never had she felt frustration, or annoyance towards you for being in the dark place you used to be in. All she felt was the need to keep you out of there, keep you in the light where you were happy and safe.

Your girlfriend would stay with you for hours if you needed her to. If you were crying she’d cry with you. If you needed her attention she’d give it to you at an instant. If you needed her to just hold you she’d do so. She’d open her arms for you, kiss away your pain, and talk away your problems.

All Sevika needed was for you to be alright.

A/N: Pleaseeee please pleaseee! let me know if something I wrote was incorrect or just insensitive, I really don’t want anyone to feel a type of way when they read this; being upset or angry. I tried my hardest to write how I, personally, feel because I know a lot of people might feel the same way— relate. Hopefully I didn’t do anything wrong :(

Please reach out to someone you know and trust if you are feeling stuck and are struggling with an eating disorder or self-harm. I promise you it’ll only get worse without help and support.

[ghostgirl-22]

Art deciding he wants to prove he can do more than just hit a ball with a stick so he decides to go to online medical school and hes practicing on patrick, doing all the routine ones,touching each other all over, soft spoken and intimate, putting sticks on their tongue like a slow burn leading up til he has to do a prostate exam, theyre practicing everything on each other. Art cant find pats prostate and he helps him, its all very awkward and sweet, after patrick says he can show art where to find it as he has more experience with men, so he gets art on his back

"This isnt even the correct position patrick" "do you want help or not? Im just showing you where it is"

Theyre so gentle with each other and patrick gently slides his fingers inside art, curling up into his prostate "you see there, you feel that?"

I thank you anon for this prompt. Sorry it took me so long. I took tons of liberties. Rearranged it in my head a lot. Also didn’t proofread much at all. Also it probably gets too into the weeds on the medical office stuff but we have fun 🤗

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

I’m going with Art’s uncle is a urologist and Patrick and Art are staying with him over a college break and he hires both Art and Patrick as “medical assistants” to help him with stuff in his office. So they’re messing around all summer, cleaning the exam rooms in between patients, scheduling appointments. Art is vaguely interested in studying medicine, Patrick is mostly bored by all of it except when they’re messing around with the office tools and Art’s pretending to do exams on Patrick whenever they get a free minute.

It’s oddly erotic. Patrick’s sitting on the exam table swinging his feet while Art tells him to open his mouth, wide, wider. Art’s standing too close, pushing the tongue depressor onto Patrick’s tongue, light shining in Patrick’s mouth. “Can you open wider?” Art whines anxiously, “I think I see something.”

Patrick opens as wide as he can. Art is so close, lips parted, eyes shiny, looking deep into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick squeezes his hands between his thighs. Getting hard for this is so ridiculously and pathetically down bad.

Art pulls the tongue depressor out. “I think you have strep throat,” He says, grinning.

“That’s the third time this week,” Patrick smirks.

Art puts the tongue depressor in his own mouth and starts chewing on it. He does stuff like that all the time. Putting stuff in his mouth after it’s already been in Patrick’s. It makes Patrick crazy. Art rubs Patrick’s knee idly and then picks up the reflex hammer. “Don’t kick me,” he says.

“Don’t hit me then,” Patrick says.

Art ignores him and swings the hammer at Patrick’s knee anyway just to watch him reflexively twitch. “Okay I guess you’re alive,” Art says.

“Is that your final diagnosis?” Patrick pulls at the tongue depressor and Art opens his mouth to let Patrick take it.

Art looks around for the stethoscope. “Better check your heart, just to be sure.”

Art’s uncle takes Art’s med school aspirations much more seriously than Patrick does. “You boys want to sit in on my next patient?” He asks, interrupting them.

“Yes please!” Art says excitedly.

Patrick doesn’t love watching Art’s uncle give prostate exams to a bunch of vaguely homophobic geriatric men but it does help break up the day. The next patient is relatively young though. He looks like he’s not even 40 years old and he’s actually kind of really hot. Patrick’s curious about why someone so young (and hot) would need to see a doctor like this.

“This is my nephew and his friend, he’s premed at Stanford. Do you mind having them sit in?” Art’s Uncle asks.

“Yeah, sure,” the guy shrugs and smiles at them, like he could care less. Art’s uncle shuts the door of the exam room and starts asking him questions, and the guy is talking about how he’s afraid his prostate is swollen because of how he’s felt. “I was actually having sex with my boyfriend and he started to get worried because of how large it felt.” The guys says.

Art and Patrick exchange glances. Patrick doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way people will just blurt all their personal information in here. Art’s uncle doesn’t miss a beat though. “Is it painful?” He asks.

“No that’s the thing doc it feels really good, I end up having so many orgasms, once three times in a row,” the guy says. “But I’m just scared that it’s not normal?”

“Well that is normal, prostate stimulation can feel good and does often lead to ejaculation.” Art’s uncle says clinically, he’s distractedly typing away on the computer. “How about frequency? Have you had to pee a lot?”

”Not any more than normal, no.”

“Alright, well lets get it checked out for you. Take down your pants,” Art’s uncle says professionally. Patrick presses his lips together and looks up at the ceiling as the guy starts to undo his pants. He really is too attractive. Patrick knows now he could never do this job, the idea of a really hot guy walking in and not being able to flirt is just devastating to him.

He chances a glance at Art and he’s just watching the patient undress, a little bit of color in his cheeks. Patrick wonders if it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s aroused. Or both. Knowing him probably both.

Thankfully Art’s uncle is just talking generally about various conditions that usually don’t affect young men as a distraction so it doesn’t feel awkward in the room. The patient bends over the exam table and Patrick considers bolting from the room but he knows that would make him seem even more awkward. He balances on the balls of his feet hoping there’s no way anyone can tell that he’s got a chubby.

“Yep it feels healthy,” Art’s uncle says as the man sort of moans a bit. Patrick swallows.

“I’m sorry doc,” the patient says quickly.

“It’s no problem, happens all the time,” Art’s uncle says, taking his gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Yours is just a little large, but seems to be perfectly healthy and functioning normally.”

”So it’s okay to— that it feels so— so good?”

Art’s uncle just laughs. “Yes, enjoy it,” he says with a wink. “And just come back to see me if there’s ever any pain.” He adds as he washes his hands.

“Oh I will, thank you,” The guy says, letting out a sigh of relief.

”Come on boys, let’s let him get dressed,” Art’s Uncle ushers them out of the room. He goes straight to a hallway computer to continue typing notes. His actual medical assistant is triaging another patient.

Art’s chewing on his bottom lip. Patrick’s trying to recover from the whole… thing. He’s not ever thought of prostates outside of old guys and dumb jokes. Never even considered the idea that it feels that good. The hot guy leaves the exam room a moment later and offers them a warm smile. He then goes to the front to take care of his bill.

“Lighten up boys, there’s all kinds of lifestyles, we don’t judge in here” Art’s uncle says, patting them on the shoulders. “Clean up the exam room and then you can take lunch.”

”Uh okay,” Art says.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, distractedly. They go back in the room and Art tears off the wrinkled exam paper from the bed and pulls some fresh paper down.

“You know what’s crazy?” Patrick asks him.

“What?” Art says, crinkling up the old paper and putting it in the trash.

“I don’t even think I know where my prostate is,” Patrick says.

“You don’t?” Art asks, pulling his gloves off and dropping those in the trash can too.

“No but I mean… could you imagine? Like what that guy was saying. Three times in a row. I could jerk off a thousand hours and never… you know…”

Art laughs a little. “Yeah, that’s um… that’s crazy.”

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees. They’re quiet for a minute.

Art takes a breath and then goes to the sink and washes his hands. “Maybe…” he says and then trails off.

”What?” Patrick asks, he picks up the disinfectant cleaner.

“Maybe I could find it for you?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. “Seriously?”l

“What? I mean— you see how fast my uncle does it? It’s probably easy.”

Patrick laughs.

“Come on, seriously, be my patient,” Art says, determinedly. He pulls on a new pair of gloves. Patrick takes a breath, remembering he’s still mildly aroused but he decides to play along anyway. If Art really wants to be a doctor he’s gonna have to get used to bodies being in all kinds of weird states. That guy had definitely moaned, Patrick hadn’t made that up and he’d definitely almost touched himself because of it.

“Okay Dr. Donaldson,” Patrick says smiling as he starts undoing his slacks. He rubs the outline of his dick idly through his boxers.

Arts chewing on his bottom lip, watching Patrick, his eyes linger on the place where Patrick was rubbing and he shifts on his feet, antsy. “You’re not supposed to be…to be hard,” Art says quietly.

“Sorry, I think that last patient was my type,” Patrick says, smirking and rubbing it one more time just to watch Art squirm.

“That’s so… so beyond fucked up,” Art says, softly.

“Well I didn’t do anything, and whatever just revoke my license then,” Patrick shrugs with a grin.

Art shakes his head, a little smile on his lips. “Be serious okay um—- I think my uncle uses some kinda… this,” Art pumps some liquid out of an industrial container of lubricant. “Okay um… bend over,” he says lightly. But it doesn’t feel light at all. It feels… loaded. Like all the years they’ve spent dancing around a quiet longing are now simmering just below the surface.

Patrick eases his boxers down exposing his ass and he rests his elbows on the exam table. He can hear Art breathing in his ear, this hot feather light sound. He feels the cold, wet of the lubricant and Arts fingers behind the gloves and he shivers. Arts pressing into him. Patrick holds his breath, the intrusion isn’t completely unpleasant. Arts using two fingers, snaking them around.

“Can you feel it?” Art asks, breathlessly.

“I mean, I feel your fingers,” Patrick says, lightly. “Do you feel my prostate?”

“Um…” Arts starts pushing deeper. “Do you know what it feels like?”

“Well no,” Patrick says, “you said you could find it. He’s your uncle. This is your legacy after all.”

“I can find it,” Art says. “But this isn’t my legacy. I want to be a cardiologist.”

“Tomayto, tomahto… oh—wait oh—Art,” Patrick breathes. “What was that—“

“Here?” Art asks, excitedly. And Patrick sees stars for how sensitive it feels.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick groans as Art rubs his fingertips along it. Patrick’s dick reacts immediately by filling out.

“I wish I could see it, it feels… different…” Arts voice is pitchy. He won’t stop rubbing it.

“Fuck, fuck… Art. Oh my fuck… take it easy, sweetheart,” Patrick gasps.

Art takes a breath and eases his fingers out.

“Shit,” Patrick whispers. “I didn’t mean you had to stop.”

“Patrick,” Art says quietly.

“What?”

“Please, Patrick, can you find mine?” His gaze is dark, his skin flushed and he looks so needy. And yeah… yeah okay. Patrick would probably give him anything right now.

He licks his lips and nods. He’s so horny he’s not exactly clinical about it, doesn’t even bother with the gloves, just wets his fingers as Art presents himself and presses them deep inside the heat of him. Art is clenching around him immediately. Patrick starts scissoring his fingers back and forth listening to the delicate sound of Art catching his breath.

Patrick searches for what he was feeling when Art was doing it and lands on something smooth. He rubs his fingertips along it gently and slowly Art begins to moan.

“That’s it,” Patrick whispers. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?” He pumps his fingers in and out, sliding them along the smooth muscle.

“Oh my god, ohmygod Patrick,” Art cries. He’s pitched so much higher than usual it makes Patrick’s teeth ache. He takes his free hand and starts stroking himself, all the while playing his fingers along Art’s prostate.

“Mm, my god,” Art sighs a litany, lying across the exam table, moaning and pushing back.

He’s so selfish, Patrick thinks, amused. He saw how good it felt and stopped fucking Patrick two strokes in because he just needed to have it for himself. And Patrick’s stomach hurts because he just loves that about him. That and he’s addicted to the way Art’s voice sounds right now… moaning so much that if the rooms aren’t soundproof… which Patrick is almost certain they aren’t…then they’re entirely fucked.

“Oh… oh Patrick I’m fucking…. Oh no… no. Oh shit,” Art cries and then he’s wetting up the table, ribbons of it spilling everywhere while he’s clenching on Patrick fingers, in deliciously tight spasms. “I did it on—I made a— a mess….” he groans breathlessly. Patrick still has his fingers inside because he’s kinda curious if he can make him come again. Art is just shivering for it.

”Patrick,” he whines.

“Yeah?” Patrick breathes. “Just relax, baby. It’s okay. You’re just making me crazy baby. Wanna fuck you.”

”Fuck,” Art groans.

“God. I really wanna fuck you.” Patrick whispers up against his throat. “I just wanna push my dick in here instead and fuck the shit outta you.”

“Oh fuck,” Art cries out again. More starts spilling out of him and Patrick just thinks, fuck it.

He slides his fingers out and Art is leaning heavy on him, pressed up against him with all his weight… he lets out a startled sound when Patrick presses the head of his dick right up against Art’s entrance.

“Patrick, wait,” Art says, a slight tremor in his voice, Patrick kisses the back of his neck and he settles down almost instantly. Patrick presses just a little more and hears the smallest little intake of breath. There’s barely any give there, his fingers are one thing but his dick is…Patrick has to wait for that. Art is so fucking virgin tight it makes Patrick want to scream. He’s had so many dirty dreams about this.

“God Patrick,” Art says, he sounds scared and turned on at the same time. His voice all airy. “You gonna— you wanna— fuck me s-so bad huh?” He whispers, his voice breaking a bit when Patrick presses in just the tiniest bit more. Patrick lifts his hand and realizes, in a detached way that he’s shivering. He starts jerking himself off. Rough and tight into him, while Art is clenching, virgin tight at the head of his dick. He’s not even inside, not even a little bit and they’re both panting like they’re actually fucking. Patrick finishes embarrassingly fast, spilling all over Art’s bottom as Art whimpers.

“Holy shit,” Patrick breathes.

”Mmhm,” Art sighs, contentedly.

”I think your uncle is gonna kill us.”

“Oh no… fuck,” Art whines, suddenly panicked. “We have to… we shouldn’t have fucking done that.”

Patrick grins, slowly pulling his boxers back up. “It was your idea doc.”

“Yeah but— I said I just wanted you to try and find my prostate not—“ he sighs. “Never mind. Help me clean up.”

They get dressed and clean up the mess they made in the exam room. Art’s still a bit of a mess when they leave. His shirt is all wrinkly and his hair is everywhere. Not to mention the way he’s flushed.

They go to his Uncles office and he’s sitting at his desk eating lunch, he takes in the sight of them, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey uh— so um— funny story— we were cleaning up and—” Art stammers.

His uncle raises a hand interrupting him. “I’m not one to judge,” his uncle says, his eyes crinkling with mild amusement. “But next time at least wait for me to close the office first.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” Art says weakly.

“Don’t worry about it. No damage done this time. We had the last patient at least two exam rooms away. Didn’t hear a thing.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Patrick says. “I was so scared everyone could hear him.”

Art glares at him and he shrugs.

“So I’m guessing you found it then?” Art’s Uncle asks.

“Uh, found what sir?” Art asks.

He shrugs. “The prostate. That’s what you were looking for, right?”

And Patrick can’t help it. He just starts laughing.

(I ask that y’all forgive any ethics violations against poor Mr.hottie patient. Whose only crime was being hot in front of Artrick with a sexy medical problem. No I don’t generally think medical problems are sexy. I also don’t condone fucking during office hours. Even if your uncle owns the place and you’re not a “real” employee. Especially then. Also now that I’m aware Patrick’s doing the sweetheart thing I’m doubling down 🙂‍↕️)

[jokeroutsubs]

📝ENG Translation: Joker Out prepared something special in Trieste and they have now showed it to the public

Original articles written for Metropolitan.si and ELLE Slovenija, originally published on 20.05.2025.

English translation by IG dalijalogar_, review by drumbeat, proofread by @flowerlotus8 and IG Gboleyn123.

Articles below the cut!

Retro aesthetics, a rebellious spirit, the start of a tour, and the Souvenir Pop album on vinyl.

"The music video is an hommage to the sound and the bands creating on this territory before us," say Joker Out. The shooting took place in Trieste, directed by Mark Pirc and produced by Studio 7 Media team. The feelings of being captured, controlled and a wish to escape are in the heart of the visual story, while a camera assumes a double role as a symbol of control on one hand and a tool of freedom on the other. Just like the song, the video is also filled with the vibe of previous decades and the characteristic stage acting which asks playful questions without any clear answers isn't missing: What does Tinka think? And how many push-ups can Jan Peteh do?

Joker Out have taken care of the vinyl lovers too even before the start of summer concerts. Their third studio album 'Souvenir Pop', which already has more than 5 million streams on streaming platforms, will be available from Friday, the 23rd of May, in the band's official online store.

With the release of the Joker Out video, they also announce the start of their concert season, which officially begins on 30th of May in Ljubljana, and only a week later they will perform at FestiVal 202 in Križanke. They will also perform at festivals and larger stages in Slovenia and across the region, and in the fall they will embark on a European tour, where some concerts have already sold out.

See you this summer at one of their concerts?

The Elle Style Awards winners from 2022, and pioneers of the ELLE Music category, have been easy to believe in from the very beginning. Not only do they consistently break through the wall of the expected, but they also continue to set new visual and musical milestones both here and beyond.

Concerts:

30th MAY, LJUBLJANA / ALEJA 5th BIRTHDAY

6th JUNE, LJUBLJANA / FESTIVAL 202

27th JUNE, KRAGUJEVAC / ARSENAL FEST

29th JUNE, SKOPJE / SKOPJE CALLING

4th JULY, KRANJ / 'TEDEN MLADIH'

12th JULY, LAŠKO / 'PIVO IN CVETJE'

26th JULY, FARA / CASTLE FESTIVAL

1st AUGUST, TROGIR / KULA KULA FEST

7th AUGUST, PULA / MALO RIMSKO KAZALIŠTE

15th AUGUST, TURKU / LOGOMO

16th AUGUST, VISULAHTI / DINOSAUROCK

30th AUGUST, MARIBOR / RADIO CITY

18th November, London / The Dome

19th November, Tilburg / 013

20th November, Amsterdam / Songfestivalfeest

22th November, Vienna / Flex

24th November, Krakow / Klub Studio

26th November, Warsaw / Progresja

27th November, Vilnius / Loftas

29th November, Prague / Futurum Music Bar

[rainofaugustsith]

I had a few things I wanted to say about Nano, and how disappointing it is that one of the last bastions of the internet that was truly about fun and people sharing their interests- the internet of Geocities pages and Livejournal blogs- has fallen to the dark side in such a definitive way. The original intent of NaNoWriMo, back in the day, was to Write the Thing. To get the words out. At the end of 30 days, it was expected you'd have a raw, messy, but gloriously 50,000-word first draft you could build upon, edit, or completely delete as you so wished. The idea of using generative AI to produce a polished manuscript that you didn't actually write is completely contrary to that spirit. And miss me on the "if you're against AI you're ableist and classist" bullshit. Generative AI that scrapes other writers' words without their consent or compensation and approximates it for others is not an access tool. It stands to cost people, including poor and disabled writers, their jobs as publications naively turn to AI instead of paying writers. How many disabled and poor writers have been fucked over by having their work stolen by generative AI databanks, and they can't afford to challenge it? In the amateur writing world, betas, proofreaders, volunteer editors - these are all things. I've betaed others' work and had mine betaed in return, entirely as a free exchange of support for each other's passion in writing. It's a place where you will find people willing to support you and your writing without any monetary expectations. But I guess Nano forgot that? It's a shame. I miss the days of the internet where you could read someone's Livejournal blogs about their day, or see someone's painstakingly assembled little Geocities page about their favorite film, or enjoy content created by others for no reason other than to share it online - no influencers, no sponsors, no product placement. We all know that world is gone, and the Nano that was so good 20 years ago is also gone. I still had a Nano account, unused for years, and yesterday I deleted it.

[writersbloxx]

Hi!!! So i need a little help please, english isn't my first language and I'm experimenting with english writing for the first time, I'm struggling with grammar and ppl have suggested me to use grammarly, would that be ethical? Is there an alternative that is ethical?

Hi Anon!

For more basic grammar checks, the use of grammarly is generally acceptable. If this is a question of academic integrity, it really does depend on the assignment/professor because grammarly is still AI powered with content generation. If it's for your personal projects, grammarly claims to adapt to your writing style, but over-reliance on this tool could lead to plagiarism.

Some more traditional tools that don't rely as heavily on generative AI are the built-in grammar checks in Microsoft Word or Google Docs. It also never hurts to have your work proofread by a native English speaker.

All online grammar checks use AI. However, it's easy to navigate responsible use of it. Just avoid making them your primary tool and relying too much on their paraphrasing options. Also be sure to treat their corrections as suggestions, reviewing them carefully to be sure they fit into the context of your writing.

Happy writing!

[solar-wing]

Please, stop using ai in your writing 🥺👉👈

so here's the thing...and for context sake for me, I'm gonna assume you're the person who asked me before if I use AI in my writing.

Once again:

note where I said what I use it for! Proofreading my drafts, structuring my outlines, and helping me find words and phrases. for example...

or...

Trust and believe me, I have my fair use of looking up synonyms and phrases online outside of AI. Just look at my bookmarks.

Now, I want to take this moment to address something about my use of AI in my writing. For me, AI has become a tool that has helped me in my productivity. It removes some of the mundane and time-consuming aspects of the writing process, allowing me to channel more of my creative energy into crafting better stories.

I fully understand that everyone has their own perspective on this topic. Some choose to use AI, while others avoid it entirely, and I respect both positions. I also recognize the moral and ethical concerns some have about AI. However, the way I use it does not harm others or have a negative impact outside my platform. If I ever saw clear, concrete evidence that using AI was genuinely detrimental to authors as a whole, I'd 100% reconsider my use of it. But so far, I’ve mostly encountered personal opinions and feelings on the matter. While those feelings are valid, they remain just that—personal.

(EDIT:)

(Something to also consider, I have an Apple Laptop, a MacBook, and with their new features releases this year, specifically the Apple Intelligence, AI is quite literally built into my phone and laptop. So, again, if’s a tool that is available for me to use and it actually helps me, and it’s not harming others with my use or its use in general, then I will take advantage of it.)

What I take issue with is when those opinions are pushed onto me, especially when I haven’t asked for them and they’re delivered anonymously.

Now, let me be clear: I’m open to discussing this topic further if anyone has additional information they believe I should consider, but I prefer those conversations happen in private, not through my public inbox. My DMs are open for that kind of dialogue, and I promise those conversations will remain 100% confidential.

That said, this is the last time I will address this topic publicly. I’m always willing to hear feedback, but when it comes to questions about the tools and resources I use to create my work, I draw the line. I want this platform to remain a space for creativity, joy, and connection—not debates over personal tools.

To be clear, my inbox—especially the anonymous feature—is intended for discussions about stories, characters, requests, and similar topics. It is not the place for critiques of how I choose to create. I don’t want to feel forced into disabling it because of misplaced discussions.

If you’d like to share your thoughts or feedback with me privately, my DMs are open. Otherwise, I ask that we keep the focus on the stories and characters we all enjoy. At the end of the day, writing is something I’ve loved doing for as long as I can remember, and AI is just one of many tools I use to make that process more efficient. It’s not something I rely on, but it does help me, and it’s not something I feel the need to constantly justify. If AI disappeared tomorrow, I would still create stories—because that’s what I’ve always done, and that’s what I will continue to do.

Thank you for understanding, and let’s keep this space positive and fun for everyone.

Thank youuuu💛

[atticsandwich]

Exploring how Obey Me!'s portrayal of the Celestial Realm mirrors that of the how the Christian heaven is used as propaganda, and how Simeon, Luke, and Raphael tie-in with real-life people's experiences of the Christian faith.

-

to preface: I was born Christian and was raised as such, but renounced my religion when I was around 18. Experiences vary in different parts of the world of course, however, I will also be tying in things I see from online conversations about Christianity. Admittedly a lot of my insight comes from my experience (and by extension, my family and friends) of Christianity in my area of the world (southeast asia).

Additionally, this post is purely for fun and speculation, and my fascination with subversive portrayals of religion, particularly of Christianity. Please note that I will use the word "religion" as a whole, but this post will specifically go into Christianity, and by proxy, its branches.

As this post is a spur-of-the-moment thing, it is not proofread, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors!

‼️This post will contain spoilers‼️

To start, let's lay out the things we know about the Celestial Realm from the story.

The Celestial Realm is home of the angels, and in contrast to the Devildom, it is a realm of permanent daylight.

Michael acts as its authority, however, we know that its most supreme being is the Father, who we can presume created the realm and its angels. Unlike the sleeping Demon Lord, we are at least aware that Father is still active, although presumably leaves the governing to Michael.

Similar to real-life angelology, the Celestial Realm also divides its angels by ranks. The current known ranks are Seraphim, Throne, Cherubim, Principality, Dominion, and Archangel.

Key observations:

Angels can either fall to become demons (demon brothers) or be stripped of their blessing and become human (Simeon).

Luke's current angel rank is unknown. We can assume this is from inexperience, as despite being implied to be at least a thousand years old, he acts and behaves like a typical ten year old.

Although "falling" can be a punishment by acting out of defiance against its virtues, we know that angels can still be morally grey, and in some cases, dubious, and still not be stripped of their blessing.

Now to the bulk of this analysis.

I. Christianity as a tool for propaganda and colonization

This is pretty basic history - western colonizers have used religion as a basis of conquering "new worlds" in the name of spreading their faith and belief systems. The effects of this still persist until today - racism, homophobia, etc. in general can be traced back to the colonial era. In more present-day scenarios, religion is also used as a leverage for morality and what people deem as "right or wrong". For some parts, it aligns with basic humanity, however, we know very well that it can also be used to spread bigotry and false moral high grounds as a justification for mistreatment of people.

In many countries, politics and religion go hand in hand. Many politicians will use their beliefs as a basis for bills and laws, and it trickles down to the justice system, where judges can display religous bias (whether consciously or not) in favor of their personal beliefs. As such, many politicians will use religion to forward their name and agenda, in the pretense of being a devout practicioner, in order to garner relatability and bias from people of the same faith. In Christianity, for example, many politicians will use the term "Lord's servant" as a subtext for people to latch onto.

In a societal context, we are very familiar with the phrase "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" as a rebuttal for homosexual relationships, and in general, relationships that bigoted Christians believe do not follow in their God's text. Cherry-picking bible verses and anecdotes to further their justification for acting the way they do is also a very common occurence, even though that very same Bible they read also emphasize the value of spreading love, with hate having no place in heaven.

-

II. How it ties to the Celestial Realm

Behind its perma-daylight nature, we learn that the Celestial Realm is a place of strict rule and order, and an angel can easily get demoted, as was the previous case for Simeon, who we know was originally a Seraphim, and in some cases, even falling to demonhood, like the brothers. This walking-on-eggshells type of ordinance is very tricky, as the reasoning for being casted out of the realm can get very blurry. In Lilith's case, it was her act of using Celestial Realm medicine in order to heal a human she loved; this then led to Lucifer questioning why her act was tantamount to falling, as he always believed love to be a precious thing. This doubt and questioning, however, then led to his own falling, which led to the rest of the brothers siding with him and Lilith, resulting in the Great Celestial War.

We can then paint a picture of the Celestial Realm as a false/disillusioned utopia - externally, it is very lavish, warm, and golden, but taking a closer look reveals its suffocating, anti-freedom, gray nature, where one wrong move could spell your last day. Simeon is very much aware of this, and has, on multiple occassions, openly expressed disdain on how the realm operates.

It is then a matter of Self vs. Governance; at what point does the Celestial Realm draw the line between individual autonomy and total subjugation of its angels? If Lucifer, once one of its most prominent, respected, and powerful angels, gets casted due to defiance for asking a very valid question regarding a value that is taught and propagated within the realm, as he believes Lilith's punishment directly goes against that value, then what of the lesser angels who wish to ask the same? If standing up for those you hold dear is tantamount to unholiness, then why teach the value of love and family in the first place?

I hope you can see where I'm going here - the teaching of these values in the Celestial Realm being the same ones that can get you ostracized VS. using these values to advance a real-world political agenda and cherry-picked beliefs is intrinsically linked.

People that use religion as a means to justify cruelty or feign moral superiority despite the main point of their religion being to "love everyone equally, as you do yourself" are setting a status quo that they built for themselves and their hivemind - if you don't follow these specific rules and beliefs, you are not a true devout. If you question or point out inaccuracies on the beliefs that we want you to follow, you are a deviant.

Sound familiar yet?

-

III. The three main angels

Excluding Michael and the demon brothers pre-fall, there are three other angels the story focuses on: Luke, Simeon, and Raphael. Despite all three being angels, they cannot be any more similar from each other. One is a brash, tempermental, and an overexcited youth with a sweet tooth; one freely lies and openly involves themselves in un-angelic deeds; and the other is a quiet, stoic, and blunt individual with a questionable taste in cuisine. These three angels encapsulate, almost perfectly, a religous pipeline.

IIIA. Luke

Luke represents the first entry to a religion (I'd use the word indoctrination, but I don't want to unknowingly portray it negatively as some people are born into a religion by default). He is young, inexperienced, idolizes a high-ranking angel who he follows with no question, and above all, naive. We know that he does not know the full reason of why the brothers fell, nor does he know of Lilith. Similarly, children and young people in religion often follow their parents/guardians blindly without question, their understanding of faith being minimal and surface level, something easily digestible for a young, developing mind.

IIIB. Raphael

Raphael is compliance. He knows and understand the ins-and-outs, the ifs-and-whys of the realm, yet continues to follow its order. Although he did not side with Lucifer, we eventually learn that he wishes he did (most recently in NB), yet unlike Simeon, does not actively wallow in his choice and continues to fulfill his duty as a Seraph. Whether we see a development with this in Nightbringer, time will tell. In a similar vein, many people will silently comply with their own faith, regardless of doubt. In my experience, this compliance, either out of familial pressure or feeling indebted to a religion, starts to happen during major developmental stages, either as a late teen or early adulthood, when you can freely do your own research and start to understand the deeper intricacies of a particular religion.

IIIC. Simeon

Simeon is representative of actively going against the status quo. He is an angel that has, on numerous occassions, displayed manipulative and wrathful tendencies, and has admitted to freely partake in lies and deceit. He has also stated that his biggest regret in life was not siding with Lucifer during the war, which is why he actively tries to help him and the brothers as much as he can, not caring if his action could be deemed as heresy. Although we see bits and pieces of it in the original game, Nightbringer Simeon fully procalims this, as asking him to ally with the brothers will result to him in saying that he always will be on their side. In real life, people have their own breaking point that leads them to this path, no matter how personal or educated the reasoning may be. Denouncing one's faith, especially one that was given to you by birth, can be considered an act of both defiance, and in the case of Christianity, becoming unholy, or impure.

-

IV. The Celestial Realm as a commentary of how religion, particularly Christianity, is used in real life as a tool to further a cherry-picked, propaganda-ridden agenda, despite it being a contradiction to its teachings.

It is no secret that a lot of societal problems nowadays regarding bigotry, refusal of understanding, and unacceptance of others outside your status quo can be traced back to religous conservatives. This is a walking contradiction, of course, as Christian teachings always puts love above all, yet bringing this up as a rebuttal will elicit anger, not reflection. The Celestial Realm is the same, as its blurry definition of defiance goes against its importance of love and familial relationships, so much so that in its eyes, an angel trying to elicit defiance by acting un-angel-like is ultimately a lot more angelic than one who dares question why its teachings are being used as a leverage of defiance.

Of course, a lot of this can be chalked up to mere coincidence, and some might even say that I'm stretching a lot here, but it's still very interesting that a portrayal of heaven is morally ambigous at best. In some ways, the Devildom, or what's supposed to be hell, feels like the better place to live in out of the two.

Anyways, if you made it this far, thank you for reading my random spat-out ramble that i started writing out of nowhere and I fixated on finishing 💀 Share your thoughts with me too, if you'd like. I'd love to hear what you guys think.

[lesb0]

i saw a post that was “in a few short years your professors will be publishing and believing and getting through their phds with ai slop” as my fave tumblr academic what are your thoughts?

Well it's not in a few years, its now. AI helps with making charts, editing/proofreading like grammarly, data processing, manuscript edits. Various AI tools are actually really cool and NECESSARY for academics like I wouldn't survive without my smart speaker which is my alarm, traffic, weather, news, gets my groceries, starts my coffeemaker, and then plays music to get me out of bed. I use it daily.

But you just meant gpts so: the academia process is brutal and exhausting and you get no pay or recognition and rare external validation, you do some of your best work specifically for it to get torn to shreds, and the only thing left to keep you going is EXTENSIVE PASSION for your field, ie you would happily take a fulltime volunteer job.

I know the sciences are plagued with gpt junk because of how openai is better with science and also it's much easier for them to publish work. There are 3 brilliant but very lazy and entitled women I know who resort to chatgpt for assignments. I use it whenever I need long boring emails and client invoices. On papers other than art history, gpts are not so obvious. But it's getting better by basically stealing from other people's papers that were made available online. Ultimately, academia has had significant longstanding issues with elitism and garbage and nonsense getting past peer review because everyone is truly tired and nobody cares about prestige and status enough to do 3 years of unpaid research work anymore. There are very smart people using gpts because they're offering 0 incentive not to.

Gpts in academia really reveal a systemic failure where someone crumbling was pushed right over the edge.

[wherechaoswins]

50 Essential To-Do List Items for Writers to Earn Online in 2025

Discover the 50 actionable tasks every freelance writer should include in their to-do list to maximize online income. From setting up profiles to mastering SEO, get started today!

Whether you are a seasoned wordsmith or just starting out, earning online as a writer requires more than just a knack for language. You need a clear roadmap—a to-do list that guides you through building your brand, honing your skills, finding clients, and optimizing your online presence. In this article, we will break down 50 essential tasks that will help you launch and grow a sustainable online writing career in 2025.

1. Set Your Foundations

Define Your Niche

Establish Your Writing Goals

Outline Your Unique Value Proposition

Create a Professional Email Address

Purchase a Domain Name

2. Build Your Online Portfolio

Set Up a Personal Website or Blog

Showcase 3–5 High-Quality Writing Samples

Write an “About Me” Page with Keywords

Add a Clear Call-to-Action (CTA)

Include Testimonials or Case Studies

3. Optimize for SEO

Research High-Value Keywords

Implement On-Page SEO Best Practices

Write SEO-Friendly Headlines (H1/H2/H3)

Use Internal and External Links Strategically

Ensure Fast Page Load Times

4. Establish Your Presence on Freelancer Platforms

Create Profiles on Upwork, Fiverr, and Freelancer

Write Compelling Profile Summaries with Keywords

Set Competitive—but Sustainable—Rates

Apply to 5 Relevant Gigs per Week

Solicit Initial Reviews from Small Jobs

5. Leverage Content Marketplaces & Agencies

Join Contena, Scripted, or Clear Voice

Submit Proposals to 3–5 Agencies

Complete Platform Skill Tests

Network with Other Writers in Private Groups

Track Applications in a Spreadsheet

6. Grow Your Network

Engage in Writing Communities on LinkedIn

Participate in Twitter Chats (e.g., #WritingCommunity)

Attend Virtual and Local Writing Workshops

Collaborate on Guest Posts

Ask for Referrals from Past Clients

7. Develop Your Skills

Enroll in an SEO Writing Course

Practice Copywriting Techniques Weekly

Learn Basic HTML/CSS for Formatting

Study Content Marketing Strategies

Read 1–2 Industry Blogs Every Day

8. Diversify Your Income Streams

Write and Self-publish an eBook

Create a Paid Newsletter (e.g., Substack)

Offer Editing and Proofreading Services

Run Paid Writing Workshops or Webinars

Develop a Patreon or Membership Tier

9. Market Yourself Effectively

Build an Email List & Send Weekly Updates

Optimize Social Media Profiles

Share 2–3 Samples of Your Work Per Month

Use Tailored Pitches for Prospective Clients

Invest in Targeted Ads (LinkedIn/Facebook)

10. Stay Organized & Maintain Growth

Use a Project Management Tool (Trello/Asana)

Set Weekly and Monthly Income Targets

Review Analytics (Website & Social)

Schedule Time for Rest and Skill Building

Periodically Update Your Portfolio & Rates

Building a successful online writing career is a marathon, not a sprint. By systematically working through these 50 to-do list items, you will create a robust foundation for attracting clients, boosting your visibility, and maximizing your earnings in 2025. Bookmark this article, check off tasks as you go, and revisit it regularly to stay on track—your freelance writing empire starts today!

Ready to act? Start with item #1: define your niche—and watch your online writing income grow!

[slow-drowned-angels]

I genuinely. I understand why people use chatgpt for things like emails and HR-speak text. That is what it is good at! Even like. Rewrite this thing to make it sound [blank]. There are energy efficiency issues with generative AI in general, but like. At least you’re using the tool for the thing it is good at! It is good at generic text where it can mash up everyone else’s generic text. Definitely proofread it to make sure it’s saying what you want it to say (or anything at all).

(And honestly. An individual using chatgpt occasionally for emails is a drop in the bucket given how many companies are forcing generative AI into products and workflows, at this point you are not the problem, go forth.)

I do not understand why it is used as a search engine. I do not understand why it is used to create grocery lists. I understand needing help on grocery lists!!!! I personally have difficulty with this!!! Chatgpt will not make you a good grocery list because it understands what you need from the store LESS than you do. It doesn’t even know what a grocery store is. It is bullshitting it worse than you could ever bullshit it. There are online tools/videos/lessons which can help you meal prep and grocery shop that are made by people for people. I don’t understand when people ask it technical questions. Use a regular search engine and a real person will have written the answer on a forum or wikipedia page and I would trust that a lot more than generated text. Don’t even think about asking it math questions unless you have a special LLM that’s connected to a calculator and even then you’re probably better off looking up your homework on Chegg. I’m being so honest — ask a friend to help you. Or ask a math forum! There are many real people who actually understand math (unlike chatpgt which only pretends to understand math) who are willing and ready to help you. Hell. If you’re reading this, feel free to ask ME! My asks are open for math or physics questions.

The Meta AI didn’t even answer a question on thermodynamics correctly IN THEIR OWN ADVERTISEMENT.

[measuringbliss]

what have you been into these days? I've seen a lot of comics and hot guys floating around but I'm afraid it's all rather gone over my head!

oh gosh

sorry my mind is reeling, today was not a good day for my country holy hell (far right getting 40% of the votes at EU Parliament votes, the president proceeding to disband the National Assembly and setting the vote for later this month... a lot happened!)

So where I've been is... I've been reading Spider-Man comics, reached 1982 and it seems that after around five years of publication just not being great, it turned around, but we'll have to see.

I finally fell victim to the 911 propaganda and watched season 7 mostly as it aired as soon as a character was revealed to be bisexual. I have Thoughts™ but I'm not sure I should share them. Started the show from the beginning, currently at episode 3. I'm very slow.

I'm also still in the middle (well, near the end) of S3 of Star Trek DS9, so far keeping with one season per year, which is silly. I also continued Interview With the Vampire, and by continued, I mean I finally watched Episodes 2 and 3. Also I'm vaguely following the spoilers Twitter throws at me. They help make me hyped.

Was obsessed over the movie Challengers, watched it 3 times in theaters and one more time outside of it. Still not over it. I love that movie.

I wrote a lot and finished basically nothing.

I'm also doing A LOT of fan translation for visual novel players who can only read my native language. I'm publishing a patch later this month (on Stonewall day!) after working on it for, what, 2-3 years (and after a major hard drive failure that made me lose a lot of data). I'm also working on correcting 3 game translations and translating another one.

Did I mention that summer is the busiest time of the year for my profession? I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed but whatever. YOLO!

I also proofread a scientific paper and utterly failed to make my boyfriend understand that I'm not the right person for this (I haven't done science in 8 years, honey! I don't even know what a compound is!). Turns out most people seem to be convinced you can simply translate words by other words and you don't need to understand the text you're translating, which explains many asinine takes online but also jeeeeezus.

Aaaaaah I'm sure I missed tons of stuff but whatevs!

What about you?

[rahuldigitalhub]

online gadget review

The iPhone 16 series, launched in September 2024, brings notable upgrades across its standard and Pro models. Here's a summary of its key features:

Standard Models (iPhone 16 & iPhone 16 Plus):

Processor: Powered by the A18 chip, offering improved AI and graphics capabilities.

Cameras: A 48MP main camera supports 2x optical zoom via sensor cropping, and the 12MP ultrawide camera now enables macro photography.

Display: Bright and efficient OLED panels.

Battery: Promises better performance, though Apple has not disclosed the exact capacity.

Charging: Enhanced wireless MagSafe charging (up to 25W) and wired charging (up to 45W).

Pro Models (iPhone 16 Pro & Pro Max):

Processor: Equipped with the A18 Pro chip, which features faster CPU, GPU, and neural processing capabilities.

Cameras: A triple-camera system with a 48MP Fusion main camera, an enhanced ultrawide lens, and a 5x telephoto camera on both Pro models. New features include 4K120fps video recording and spatial video for immersive content on Apple Vision Pro.

Audio and Video: Advanced editing tools like Audio Mix, spatial audio capture, and wind noise reduction for professional-grade content creation.

Design: Improved thermal performance with a graphite layer in Pro models for demanding tasks like gaming.

Software & AI:

Both standard and Pro models benefit from iOS 18, introducing features like customizable home screens, advanced AI tools (e.g., ChatGPT-powered Siri), and privacy improvements. Apple Intelligence tools also support text summarization, email proofreading, and generative image creation.

Pricing:

[roald-ragin]

Yeah the kids these days using AI to do class work are getting the same argument as we did when we "need to learn math and show (our) work, because (we) can't always have a calculator". Which was technologically outpaced by having a calculator AND world wide web accessible on our phones.

But like, you see people who can't use their brain for simple math. Yes an online calculator for measuring angles or converting different units is nice as a TOOL.

It's the same argument, with AI becoming commonplace and unavoidable because the cat's out of the bag. Except the future implications are why AI written schoolwork should be an immediate fail; if AI writes it for you, what good are you? Your brain is worthless if you just get AI to do it, and even if you wanna proofread and fact check what it wrote? You're just changing out one work load for another, at best.

Write your own damn papers, use your own damn brain. Otherwise you're feeding into a future where human thinking obsolete and society will become nothing but mindless slaves with overlords who only need to not be retarded.

[ruelknudson]

Thinking about A Tale of Two Cities.

Writers are readers. As a writer, I find it best not to stick too closely to any specific genre, author, theme, or literary era. I try to dance between fiction by modern authors, non-fiction, comics, and classic literature. I love the range and diversity in approaches. But there is something magical about classic literature that I think other authors should consider: the sheer complexity of the stories.

We live in an age where there are more tools for crafting a good story than ever before. We have tools like World Anvil, Scrivener, and Grammarly to help organize and edit writing outside of basic word processing software like Word, Office Online, and Google Docs. Personally, I use OneNote to organize all my disparate elements during my pre-writing phase. Then we use armies of ARC readers, beta readers, proofreaders, and editors to give us feedback and help us massage our creations into well-formed pieces of art. But for classic literature giants like Poe, Dickens, or Austen, these tools did not exist. They wrote by hand under lantern light, candlelight, or sunlight; and their stories are vivid, dramatic, with layered characters, and surprising twists and turns properly set up with subtle elements woven deftly into their narratives.

Take, for instance, "A Tale of Two Cities." I recently reread this book and was reminded of Dickens' mastery of the craft with two elements that seemed so pointless when you first come across them. If you haven't read the story, please do. I know some classics can be tough to read. Even I have trouble remaining focused on them from time to time. My last reading of it was an audiobook, and I definitely recommend this approach if you struggle with the language used in such classics.

If you have read it and come back to this blog, you will definitely remember Madame Defarge. She often sits in the corners of some scenes in the book. However, by the end, she is the embodiment of the antagonistic forces arrayed against our heroes. She is, on the surface, a very flat character whose only role is to represent the horrors of the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution.

The second character that always surprises me is one of the first characters introduced in the story: Jerry Cruncher. Jerry is a minor character who pops in and out of the story from time to time. He is a porter at the bank but supplements his income at night as a resurrection man who steals newly deceased bodies and sells them to medical schools. In one part of the story, his young son follows him to one of these nightly excursions where he decides that he wants to be a resurrection man when he grows up.

What I admire most about the approach Dickens employs to both these characters is how unimportant they are throughout most of the story. And yet, not a word is wasted on them. Once their great contributions to the narrative are exposed towards the end, the reader is left with this sudden understanding of how complexly these two were woven into the story from the beginning.

Madame Defarge’s initial appearances could be ignored if not for Dickens' insistence that we know she is there knitting, knitting. She is only remarkable by the repetition of the word “knitting” as though Dickens is whispering to the reader, “pay attention to this woman.” But she is not the important character in those scenes, until we find out later, when the revolution is in full swing, who she is, and what she has been doing.

Defarge was a victim of the aristocracy. We learn that we have been told throughout the story how she was victimized, what was done to her, and the people she wants vengeance on. We learn that as she knitted in the wine shop, she stitches the names of the victims who will succumb to her justice. By the end of the story, we learn that Dickens was telling us her story (and the story surrounding the greater conflict between the rich, the poor, the aristocracy, and the revolution) the entire time, while using Manette, Lucie, Darnay, and Carton as the main characters driving the plot through their various trials and tribulations.

Then there is our minor character, Jerry Cruncher, a character who pops in at some very important pieces of the story, but we don’t understand how important until the very end, when his knowledge of a fake burial is used to blackmail Barsad, which allows for Carton to sacrifice himself for Darnay. Every single appearance of Jerry is notable in that he is part of some key points in the story but is essentially a giant lever, forcing the plot of the story to end in the only way it could. He is a seemingly minor character in scope but has an outsized influence on the outcome of the story. Throughout my reading of the story, I often find myself wondering why this guy matters at all, until he finally does. And then, when he does matter, you learn that he always did, just not in any way you might expect.

All the complexity and artistry aside, we know that Dickens is one of the literary world’s greatest writers. That makes it easy to dismiss the mastery on display in this novel. But I want to argue a very specific point. Dickens published 45 chapters, nearly 140 thousand words, in 31 weekly installments. He wrote the novel by hand, and then released it in pieces. I don’t know how he organized the story before he put down the ink. It doesn’t matter. The story is dense, packed with subtle scenes, breadcrumbs galore, and subtle little twists and turns. Seeds are planted in early pages to bud or bear fruit after chapters that leave the reader wondering not how he did it, but how did he do it without us noticing. No one, not in the past 165 years since its creation, regardless of the advancements in literary craft or technology, has anyone come close to doing what Dickens has done in A Tale of Two Cities.

As readers and authors, we often find ourselves hyper-focusing on the current literary trends, with the latest and greatest masters of the craft, and digging into the commercial and artistic tone setters of today’s best books. Best sellers and independent diamonds pile up in mounds of new content begging for our attention. A rare few catch our eye and our interest, and we devour them while we look at our own stories and wonder how they would fit in the current landscape. We wonder at the commercial value of our book series and hope to the literary gods that someone might touch one of our books and think they belong on their shelves next to Harry Potter and whatever tomorrow’s version of A Song of Ice and Fire will be. And those of us who write to tell stories, regardless of profit, still hope those stories will be read, when there is so much reading left to do.

And we forget that among those books stand giants holding classics that make all of us modern wordsmiths look like amateur children who have just learned to play at making stories. They laugh at our careful planning and our complex narratives so carefully organized with the best machines built for thinking that man has made accessible to us.

For many readers, there is no greater treasure than to find a classic masterpiece and realize how wonderful they are. For others, they will never come to those stories. They will read many things throughout their lives. Their lives will be richer after having read them. But I can’t help but feel a little sad knowing what they are really missing.

Speaking of readers finding new stuff to read:

I am an independent author looking for more readers to read my stories. Check out my books on my website via the link below.