#is it the sugar or the existential dread

[mx-lamour]

I don't know why I feel this way— could it have been something I ate? or maybe it's something I did today, from which there's no escape ...yeah

[ourslutfactory]

Resting in pieces

[bl00dh0rs3]

uh oooooh i woke up early and i Feel Bad

[juricel]

Headcanon request for Beast Cookies x reader who gets convinced by them to join them so he won't have to suffer the pain of their life and had became an entity so they will be together with them forever?

a/n: I didn't include silent salt, for this is heavily centered around their character, and they have yet come out, I hope you don't mind but then again, I have stated it before that I do not write for them.

— mystic flour cookie x reader, burning spice cookie x reader, shadow milk cookie x reader, eternal sugar cookie x reader.

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: themes of nihilism as per usual mystic flour cookie, emotional despair, existential dread, self-harm imagery, manipulation, love bombing, coercion, and potential ooc.

pointless. MYSTIC FLOUR COOKIE could not comprehend the rationality of your persistence—your endless prattling, your stubborn resolve; it was all for naught, a futile exertion in the face of the inevitable. did you not understand? all of it would fade—irrelevant, unnoticed, as if it had never been. there would be no mark upon history, no legacy to preserve the fight. every effort, every defiance, would dissolve into nothingness. and yet, still, you fought. why? the path to salvation lay not in this endless struggle, but in surrender. take her hand, and step into the void, where all things had long since ceased, and in that stillness, grace would bestow eternal peace.

no matter how fiercely cookies flourish, how far they reach, how deeply they love, it all drifts to dust—soft and weightless, like flour borne on the wind. the cycle endures: rise, fall, forget. she cannot unmake it, cannot wipe the slate clean. but she can offer something else. not erasure, no—eternity. come with her, step beyond the world’s decay, and become untouchable. transcend, not vanish. remain, always.

oh, you poor little crumpled cherub! look at you—covered in your own crimson jam, eyes like broken glass, heart swollen with pain and heavy with sorrow. if you persist—if you drag those feet another inch along the jagged path—you shall diverge irreparably from that divine avenue, the gilded promenade of happiness! no, no, no. that would be a blasphemy—a sacrilege against delight itself! ETERNAL SUGAR COOKIE cannot—will not—permit such a tragic misfolding of fate. you were meant to glisten, not to grieve.

come, won’t you, to her garden? that clandestine eden where sorrow dares not tread, where even the ghosts hush their moans and the air shimmers with a perfume too ancient to name. you shall not be alone there—no, never alone. if a tear escapes your eye, the vines will lean in and weep with you, green tendrils coiling gently, whispering leaf-lullabies. if your soul is fractured, fret not—the garden, with its blooms and murmuring roots, will stitch it whole with the deftness of an old dream. ah, but if you hesitate, if some last flicker of will resists—fear not. she will find a way. she always finds a way. you see, she adores the broken ones, the little cookies crumbling at the edges. so tired, so terribly tired—tormented by those gnawing, spidery thoughts. let her help. let her hush them. let her do the thinking for you. why strain, sweet wafer of woe, when she can cradle you forever in petals and shadow, in silk and silence?

hope; a pitiful paper crown worn by the naïve, the desperate, the deluded. a banquet of baloney, stuffed with saccharine dreams and stale promises, paraded about as if it were virtue incarnate. rubbish—glittered, gift-wrapped, and passed down like heirloom poison from one wide-eyed generation to the next. a trick of the psyche. a sparkling hallucination meant to distract from the gnashing teeth just beyond the velvet proscenium. and the world? oh, don’t make him laugh. the world is no stage—it is a pitiless cabaret, a carnival of grotesques. the curtains are stitched from flayed dreams, the spotlights are slow-burning gas fires. every act ends in collapse, every round of applause is but a dirge. the audience has long since abandoned their seats, but the performers—poor, wretched things—still stagger through their routines. mouthing the words. hitting their marks. bleeding on cue. and you—you dear, fluttering marionette—you still believe! you still prattle! still tie ribbons around your grief and call it poetry. still sing lullabies to your pain, mistaking it for a wounded bird rather than the vulture it truly is. you cling to hope like a drunk to his last coin, spinning it in the gutter and whispering, “maybe this time.” ah, such dainty noise—like spoons chiming in a dollhouse—will perish, in time. it must. the fools, ever enamored with their toybox paradise, will cradle it like something sacred, mistaking the humdrum balm of ignorance for grace. but fret not, fret not! his sweet little dear, do not despair—applaud, even! for SHADOW MILK COOKIE has not just one, but many dazzling entrances prepared for you. each one a doorway, each one a revelation. not with force—how vulgar—but with flair, with wonder! so come, his darling—step through the curtain, shed your skin of sorrow, and be reborn in the only truth that matters: to be his.

cookies. they rose, they cracked, they rose again, and cracked. same old story. he’d seen it too many times—dough stretching like blind roots toward some fake sun, puffing up with hot little dreams, then sinking, splitting, crumbling into nothing. always the same end. always that brittle, pathetic hope. there was something sickly sweet about it all, like a smile left out too long. the cycle droned on, dull as dust and just as stubborn. life, with its sugar-coated promises, never gave him anything new—just the same tired tune, the same broken record, spinning in the dark. he’d tried to fix it, patch the cracks, hold the thing together with floury hands and good intentions. useless. it always fell apart. everything. even the trying. in the end, he searched and strained and still found nothing that fit, nothing that stayed—until you. you were the only thing that didn’t flicker out, the only one he could hold onto without bracing for the break. the one thing he could care for without fear of it crumbling. the one thing that didn’t wilt. and BURNING SPICE COOKIE intends to keep it till the end.

those pathetic cookies—faint, crumbly grotesques of valor—cracked and disintegrated at the mere suggestion of his axe. not a whisper of resistance, not a flicker of defiance. they vanished like brittle dreams at daybreak, a thwart species... you mustn’t consort with such ornamental failures; their loyalty is as shallow as the sugar crust they flake beneath. you ought, instead, to come to him—yes, you, as though drawn by some perfumed gravity stitched into the hem of dusk—for he alone knows what is deserved for you.

a/n: it's me and my dearest em dash (including my extremely complicated imagery) against the world, also isn't it obvious I struggled with shadow milk cookie's part?

[bradleysass]

baby - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 460

James Potter has never met a nickname he didn’t like.

He throws them around like confetti—mate, bud, sunshine, twat—but lately, ever since he and Regulus started… whatever the hell this is, the names have taken a turn. A sickening, sugar-coated, romance-novel turn.

“Morning, love,” James says cheerfully, dropping a mug of black coffee on the table in front of Regulus, who’s scrolling through the news like the world personally offended him.

Regulus doesn’t look up. “Don’t call me that.”

James slides into the booth across from him with the smuggest grin known to mankind. “What, ‘love’? Thought it fit. You’re a real vision in existential dread.”

“Try it again and I’ll pour this coffee into your lap.”

James leans forward, unbothered, eyes bright behind his glasses. “Darling, that’s not very nice.”

Regulus slams the mug down so hard it sloshes over the rim. “I swear to Merlin, Potter.”

“Oh, we’re back to surnames?” James pouts theatrically. “Thought we were past that, baby.”

Regulus flinches. Not visibly. Hopefully. He sets the mug down more gently this time and stares at James like he’s trying to manifest spontaneous combustion.

“Don’t call me that either.”

“What, ‘baby’?” James says it again. Innocent. Sweet. Like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Regulus presses his knees together under the table. Fuck.

James’s grin shifts. Becomes something sharp and knowing.

“Oh,” he says softly. “Oh.”

“Shut up,” Regulus mutters, eyes back on the news, the words on the screen a meaningless blur.

“Wait—wait—is this why you get so twitchy whenever I say baby?”

“No.”

James leans in, elbows on the table, voice dropping. “So it doesn’t… do something to you?”

Regulus’s eye twitches. “James.”

“Doesn’t make your voice all clipped and angry like you’re trying to hide something? Doesn’t make you squirm a little in your overpriced trousers?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I’m right,” James says, now full-blown beaming, basking in the glow of this newfound power like a plant in sunlight. “Godric’s tits, this is brilliant.”

“I will end you.”

“I bet if I whispered it—like, right in your ear—you’d melt.”

Regulus clenches his fists, trying not to think about exactly that scenario. “You’re not going to do that.”

“Baby.”

His legs twitch.

James smirks like he’s just won the World Cup.

Regulus bolts up from the booth. “I’m leaving.”

“No, come on, don’t be like that—”

“I’ll see you never, Potter.”

“Later, baby!”

Regulus flips him off on the way out, which would’ve been more effective if he hadn’t tripped slightly over his own feet.

James leans back in the booth, sips his coffee, and sighs contentedly. He knows Regulus will be back. He always comes back.

He’s definitely going to say it again.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Ground Zero | Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Author's note: Frank was so cute in the finale offering everyone coffee and meanies Matt and Karen wouldn't have any. Not my style to deviate from canon but how cute would it be if he owned a coffee shop for vets to have a place to talk about the good old days and relax. It's open to the public but the coffee's not good so the public's not there lol.

You’ve had better coffee in gas stations off the interstate at 3 a.m. during a thunderstorm.

But this place? You keep coming back. Every morning like clockwork. Not for the coffee—God, no. You’ve actually learned to grit your teeth through it, nod your thanks, and dump it the second you’re out the door.

No. You come for Frank Castle.

The guy behind the counter. Former military, judging by the posture and the scars he doesn’t bother hiding. Doesn’t smile much. Doesn’t talk unless you talk first. But he always remembers your name. Always has your cup ready the second he sees you step inside.

Today is no different.

The bell over the door rings, and he’s already reaching for a cup.

“Morning,” you chirp, all sugar and false cheer. “Smells like something’s burning. You make the house blend again?”

Frank shoots you a look. “You don’t have to keep comin’ here if you hate it so much.”

“I don’t hate it,” you lie, leaning on the counter, watching his hands work. “It builds character. And mild caffeine withdrawal.”

He slides the cup toward you without a word. You take it, fingers brushing his for just a second longer than necessary.

“You ever think about branching out?” you ask. “Like, oat milk? Latte art? Anything that doesn’t taste like existential dread?”

“I think about tellin’ you to stop comin’ in here if you’re just gonna insult the coffee.”

You smirk. “You won’t.”

He doesn’t answer.

You sip, wince dramatically, then grin.

“Thanks, handsome,” you say, turning to go like you always do.

But this time—

“Wait.”

You pause, fingers curling tighter around the paper cup. Turn halfway.

Frank’s wiping his hands on a towel, eyes on you. Quiet. Careful. He moves around the counter, walks to the door, and flips the sign.

OPEN → CLOSED

You raise an eyebrow. “Little early for closing time, isn’t it?”

He shrugs, doesn’t look at you.

“You can stop pretending you like the coffee,” he says, voice low, rough with something unspoken. “I know you’ve been gettin’ the real stuff down the block after this.”

You blink. “You’ve been spying on me?”

“Not spyin’,” he mutters. “Just… noticed.”

Silence stretches.

“You make it real hard not to flirt with you, you know that?” you finally say.

He looks up, and for the first time since you’ve known him, Frank Castle smiles. It’s crooked and reluctant and a little sad, like he doesn’t know how to let himself be happy, but he’s willing to try—for you.

“You still thirsty?” he asks.

You step closer, slow.

“Only for you.”

He breathes out a soft laugh through his nose. Then: “Sit down. I’ll try not to burn it this time.”

You set your cup on the counter.

“I don’t care if you do,” you say. “Just stay with me while I drink it.”

He nods once. Like that’s a promise.

[multifamdomfan]

When Fire Met Fables

---

Crowley hated kids.

That’s what he told everyone. With sunglasses perched on his nose even indoors, sleeves rolled up like he was ready to fight the nearest copier machine, and a permanent scowl etched into his angular face, he made it his brand.

“Sticky little goblins,” he muttered as a four-year-old named Max glued macaroni to his own eyebrows with the artistic fervor of Picasso on a sugar high. “I specifically told them not to eat the paste. And what do they do? They bathe in it. Of course.”

But what Crowley didn’t mention was that he always carried an extra pack of crayons in his coat pocket (the glittery kind that made the kids squeal with joy), or that he memorized which student liked dinosaurs and which one needed quiet time after lunch. He’d even mastered the art of tying tiny shoes in less than five seconds.

He just… didn’t want people to know. That would ruin the entire “grumpy cryptid with a heart of coal” thing he had going.

So when the school announced a joint PTA and Faculty Weekend Retreat, Crowley groaned like he was being sentenced to three days in a bouncy castle.

“Mandatory attendance,” the email read. “Come meet the other educators and engage in joyful community bonding!”

“Joyful,” he spat. “Sounds like torture with name tags.”

---

Aziraphale loved people.

He loved his students, his books, his colleagues (even the insufferably modern tech bros in the business department), and he especially loved faculty events.

A professor of philosophy and literature at the nearby university, Aziraphale had a tendency to ramble about Camus and Keats in the same breath. His office was a cozy labyrinth of antique volumes, lace doilies, and always—always—smelled faintly of lemon tea and old parchment.

He volunteered to give a presentation on “Narrative Morality in Early Childhood Education” at the retreat and brought a slideshow. With transitions.

So when he spotted a tall, lanky man in black leaning against the snack table like it owed him money—sunglasses on indoors, arms crossed—he was intrigued.

“Hello!” Aziraphale chirped. “Are you one of the kindergarten teachers?”

The man groaned, clearly regretting every decision that led him to this moment. “That obvious?”

“Only from the glitter on your left shoe,” Aziraphale said cheerfully.

Crowley looked down. “Bloody—damn it, Max.” He made a mental note to incinerate all glitter-based crafts on Monday.

“I’m Aziraphale,” the sunshine man continued, offering his hand. “Philosophy and literature.”

“…Crowley. I teach the ankle-biters how to share and not stab each other with safety scissors.”

Aziraphale laughed. Not a condescending laugh, or a nervous one—just… happy. Like meeting Crowley had made his day a little brighter.

“You don’t seem like you hate it as much as you claim,” he said slyly.

“I do. Detest it. Every minute,” Crowley lied.

“Hm,” Aziraphale said with a knowing smile. “So that’s why you’ve got a caterpillar sticker on your arm?”

Crowley looked down. “…Max again.”

---

Over the weekend, Crowley found himself partnered with Aziraphale during a "team-building scavenger hunt," which was exactly as awful as it sounded, except… less awful when Aziraphale tripped on a root and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. Less awful when they argued about the philosophical implications of Goodnight Moon.

(“It's about existential dread, Crowley!”

“It’s a rabbit saying goodnight to furniture, angel!”

“Oh, you do think I’m an angel then?”

“…No comment.”)

By the final day, Crowley had started to wonder if he could live with being called “Mr. Crowley” in a slightly flirtatious tone for the rest of his life.

And when Aziraphale invited him for tea—“Not coffee, I’m afraid, but I do make a delightful scone”—Crowley didn’t even pretend to scowl.

“Well,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up. “Only if you promise not to mention the glitter.”

Aziraphale’s smile could’ve powered a small country.

“Not a word,” he promised, linking his arm with Crowley’s.

---

Bonus Scene:

Back at school on Monday, little Max squinted up at Crowley.

“Mr. C, why are you smiling?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re definitely smiling.”

“Lies and slander.”

“…Is it ‘cause of that nice man with the scarf who brought you cookies?”

“…Shut up and draw your feelings, Max.”

(Max drew a stick figure of Crowley with hearts above his head. Crowley kept it in his desk drawer.)

[shewrites02]

Trying to love Suguru in the midst of his mental health crisis. Post Riko , but Pre leaving Jutjutsu High.

Join my Taglist <3

Word count: 680

Leave a comment if you enjoy :) feel free to reblog!

“Princess…” Your boyfriend sings your name is sweeter than sugar, but all you can hear is the condescending tone seething from his lips. “I told you I would do it sweetheart. I didn’t know that meant right now.” 

Deciding the dig not worthy of an answer, you focus your attention back to the task at hand. Geto stops at the archway of your shared apartment to watch you assemble your vanity that just came in. There’s an amused smirk amongst his otherwise agitated features as he watches you fiddle with the nuts and bolts.

Typically you would’ve accepted Suguru's promise with a curt nod and sweet smile. Sure he meant his words. Not today. 

Today his words made your skin crawl. A symptom of being spewed one too many empty promises. Promises you were supposed to believe just because he said so. 

“It’s fine Suguru. You’re tired and I'm sick of just looking at the box. I’d like to actually use the present you got me.” 

Your words come out in a huffled pout as you attempt to separate the different wooden pieces. It was becoming quite evident that you underestimated the task, but there was no way you were ever going to give suguru the satisfaction of hearing you say it. 

“Then let me finish gift-ing it to you.” With a roll of his eyes , Suguru has now intervened to stop you from trying to mash together the wrong two pieces for the third time. “Baby, please.” 

Once the wood is out of your hands, the sorcerer is quick to remove all the tools in the vicinity. Messily stacking them back into the tool box you’ve dug from under the sink. When he is done, Suguru joins you on the floor , sitting across from you with his legs crossed then reaches for your hands. 

“Am I not paying you enough attention sweetheart?” His hand reached to cup your cheek, and similar to a sigh, slow but eager,  your eyes met his. ” Is that what this is?”

Silence fills the space between the two of you while you search for the patronizing intonation in his voice. You only find genuine concern. His eyes don’t squint in disgust but confusion. For the first time in a while the Suguru sitting in front of you is a glimpse of the one you fell in love with. 

“I- I miss you suguru. You’re slipping through my fingers. You think I don't feel it but I do.” 

The sorcerer looks as though he is searching for what can assuage your heart. A telling look in his eyes that he does not want to agree, but he does not want to lie either. 

This distance you feel. This man in your home that wasn’t him- you both felt it. Neither quite sure what to make of this stranger cutting his hands on the broken shards of memories and nightmares stored here. 

At first school was the only place that felt suffocating. You attributed it to the sorrow this career demanded. When each training was a constant remembrance of what you lost, and each mission a reminder of what’s left to lose- how do you heal? To feel and move forward? 

Soon home felt suffocating too .Where else could grief hide other than between you and Suguru? Like the two of you could no longer lie in bed without this existential dread sleeping between you. Forced to acquaint yourself with this draining misery the more it sat at your dining room table. Where else could all this despair live besides this home? Where it belongs, where it's comfortable.  

Eventually there was no escape from the sadness.

“I know you're tired, Suguru. I don’t mean to say it like it’s not true.” There’s a softness in his eyes, something you pray is kin to relief. “I just need more of you.” 

What you hoped was a pause turns into lingering silence. Suguru’s eyes have landed on the coffee table you pushed aside in your determined tantrum. The relief you hope settled on his features has morphed into something more painful.  

“I’m giving you everything baby.”

If you enjoy my content or if you have $5 to spare , please consider donating it to Besan . she is a mother trying so desperately to get her family out of Gaza. She is still so far away from her go fund me goal!

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[erlie]

M/M Book Recs

Need distractions?

Want men kissing each other with happy endings?

I got you. Here are some of my favourites:

Adventures in Aguillon -series by Lisa Henry and Sarah Honey Red Heir / Elf Defense / Socially Orcward

Are these the height of literature? No. Are they crude, smutty, funny and surprisingly sweet? Yes. Definitely. Don't go to these books with any other expectations than having fun. Lowbrow fantasy with some pop culture references, if you liked Tales in Verania series, you'll like this.

Socially Orcward is not smutty at all, since both of the main characters are asexual and it is very very sweet!

Sugar & Vice -series by Allie Therin (on going) Liar City / Twisted Shadows

Is slow burn your jam? How about grumpy/sunshine pairing? Well get on these! The first book will leave you WANTING, because the two can't touch each other without pain and consequences. Very very very good alternative universe paranormal romance. Second book is little spicy!

Sword Crossed by Freya Marske

Historical fantasy romance, with arranged marriages (not between the two men though) and hiring a swordsman to defend your honor in battle to save your house from ruin. Buttoned up business man meets a dashing rogue. What else do you need? Not much. Little spicy.

Oak King Holly King by Sebastian Nothwell

When you are crowned Holly King and your duty is to die within a yearn in a ritual, you obviously fetch a nice human man from London to help you. If romance happens, what could be nicer! This was a lot different I expected it to be but in a good way. Tastefully spicy.

The Darkness Outside Us / The Brightness Between Us by Eliot Schefer

These are not romance book! Is there romance, yes, but these are scifi suspense books first. They also deal with a lot of heavy topics such as existential dread, humanity and end of the world. But they are so fucking good I beg you to read them. Not spicy.

Cerulean Chronicles by TJ Klune The House on the Cerulean Sea / Somewhere Beyond the Sea

Want to read anti-JKR author's books? Do you want the books to be a middle finger to her? Jump in. Trans allegory with boat loads of queer love, joy and existence.

Game Changers -series by Rachel Reid Heated Rivalry / The Long Game These are books 2 and 6 of the series and they are easily read as stand-alones. And you probably should. Because these two are so fucking good and steamy and lovely that I went little insane in the head when I read these the first time.

Rest of the series is bit ...meh. First book is boring, third is alright with some interesting themes around sex, fourth is an age gap romance and the fifth is pretty okay. But these two just... my god. Very very spicy!

Icarus by K. Ancrum

Retelling of the Icarus myth with a criminal son and father. Also touches on topics of being touch starved, Sins of Our Fathers and generational trauma. Very beautifully written, will leave you thinking for a while. Queer romance, not spicy.

I'll leave this here for now, there will be part 2 soon!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

[burntheedges]

Summer Stuff-My-Inbox Fic Rec List (Part 2)

I can't believe it's already September? What the hell, honestly. Thank you all for sending me your fics again!

Remember to check out Part 1, too.

The list has 57 more Pedro-character fics posted since June 1, organized by character and then alphabetically by author. Mind all tags and warnings! I've noted word count (we've got a range!), whether it's part of a series, and pairings. Let's get reading and reblogging!

Characters in this rec list: Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Ezra (Prospect), Frankie Morales, Javier Gutierrez, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Pero Tovar, Tim Rockford

...

Dave York

melt by @sizzlingcloudmentality | 960 words | Dave x f!reader summary: wine drunk and with fresh croissants from the bakery you're having French breakfast and sex with Dave. | Daphne mentioned being proud of this one particulary because of the smut!! 😏

Dieter Bravo

Eros & Psyche by @schnarfer | ~16k, complete | Dieter x f!reader summary: Dieter is a modern day Greek God Eros. We’re going full existential dread rom-com, actually. | I can't wait to read this!

Golden Girl by @whocaresstillthelouvre | 2.9k | Dieter x f!reader summary: What happens when you discover your husband has been cheating on you? You call his best friend to help comfort you.

Starlet by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.7k | Dieter x f!reader summary: Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

Din Djarin

Fifteen Weeks by whocaresstillthelouvre | 5k | Din x f!reader summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. | this is part 2! Don't miss part 1!

Oath Broken and Soul Bound by @whxtedreams | 1.8k, wip | Din x OFC Witch hunter!Din x OFC!Witch, from Flora: It's a Witch AU, fantasy and forbidden love. It's very new, only one chapter out but I have very big plans. I have pretty much the entire fic mapped out. It also has Ezra, Frankie and Joel as characters. You can learn more about their characters here in the character study i did for them. This is my passion project, I have so much love for them and I can’t wait to share my story in more detail!

Touchstone by @sawymredfox | 2.6k | Din x f!reader summary: Things are not always what they seem. They have a meaning. They have a reason behind them, private and cherished.

Ezra (Prospect)

There are Other Fish in the Sea by @beefrobeefcal | 4 parts | Frankie x f!reader, Ezra x f!reader summary: an alternate ending (and continuation) of another of Beefro's fics, where Frankie messes up and Ezra comes along.

Joel x Ezra

who knows where the time goes by @sixhours | 11k | Joel x Ezra (Prospect) summary: It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

Frankie Morales

Like the Rain by @jennaispunk | 2.9k | Frankie x f!reader summary: Frankie has something to say….will you listen? | Jenna said this one is her first Frankie fic!! and a challenge because it has more spice, which is fun!

There are Other Fish in the Sea by @beefrobeefcal | 4 parts | Frankie x f!reader, Ezra x f!reader summary: an alternate ending (and continuation) of another of Beefro's fics, where Frankie messes up and Ezra comes along.

Tide by whocaresstillthelouvre | 1.2k | Frankie x f!reader summary: Frankie Morales is capable of almost anything… except not cumming in his jeans when he thinks about you, the pretty clerk at the grocery store he always buys his giant jugs of laundry detergent at.

Javier Gutierrez

KEPT by @beefrobeefcal | 5.3k | Javi x f!reader summary: You might just have bitten off more than you can chew by possibly becoming Javi G's sugar baby.

Rhapsody in Blue by @maggiemayhemnj | 5.5k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javi G takes you to the Oscars. Takes you to the Vanity Fair party. Takes you back to the Chateau Marmont. Then just takes you. | Maggie said this one took her out of her comfort zone, and she ahd fun delving into more spice!

Javier Peña

An End to Drought by @almostfoxglove | 5.4k | Javi x f!reader summary: The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Dispose of Me by whocaresstillthelouvre | 1.8k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javier Peña needs you… and you're moving away in two weeks.

Dusk by @the-orange-tabby-cat | 8.7k | Javi x f!reader summary: Javier sees you again years after the end of your love affair. Torn between the memories of what happened then and what is now, you both face the weight of your actions from Bogotá to Madrid.

Hold my hand by @milla-frenchy | 4.1k | Javi x f!reader summary: a stranger saves your life. Or your and Javi’s love story.

I'll Carry You by almostfoxglove | 2 of 3 parts, 13.6k | Javi x f!reader summary: You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Scathed by @dancingtotuyo | 41k, wip | Javi x OFC summary: Javier and Emily experienced the drug war on different fronts in very different ways. Maybe, they’re what the other needs to heal.

Joel Miller

Joel & Ellie, no pairing

happy birthday, baby girl by sixhours | wip | Joel and Ellie summary: Ellie has never had a birthday. Joel can fix that.

Joel x Ezra

who knows where the time goes by sixhours | 11k | Joel x Ezra (Prospect) summary: It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

x reader or x OFC

A summer with the Millers by @milla-frenchy | 4.2k, wip | Joel x f!reader x Tommy summary: you come back to your father's house for summer vacation and want to get closer to your crush and dad's best friend, Tommy Miller. His brother Joel is gonna help you to reach your goal.

Always in my Heart by @mermaidgirl30 | 1.2k | Joel x f!reader

summary: Losing a pet is never easy, but you’re not alone because Joel is right there with you, keeping you afloat.

BDSMaid by @mountainsandmayhem | wip | Joel x f!reader summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Cover Me Up by almostfoxglove | 97.7k, finished | Joel x f!reader summary: After you spare the lives of two kids who break into your isolated cabin in the woods, they lead you back to their settlement. You intend to get in, trade for valuable supplies, and get out, but end up staying. Four years later, you're a solitary but respected pillar of Jackson's close-knit community when Joel Miller shows up, kid in tow. You think nothing of him or the kid. You like your quiet life. Too bad it won't stay quiet for long. Or: Joel and Ellie make you human again. | Freya's first series!

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost by mermaidgirl30 | finished | Joel x f!reader summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Fragile State by @galway-girlatwork | 2.5k | Joel x OFC Tara summary: The aftermath of a traumatic car accident leaves a family struggling with fear and uncertainty. The emotional toll weighing them all down as they try to find some normalcy which they all know is impossible until he wakes up. Vulnerability and desperate needs for the man who is the center of their lives to remember who they are and the life he had with them. | the author mentioned this way of writing a story was new, which is very fun!

Halcyon by @justagalwhowrites | ch 16, 110k so far | Joel x f!reader summary: When your life falls apart, you find yourself back in your hometown of Austin, Texas for the first time in more than a decade. Eager to make your own way after a rough divorce, you reconnect with your high school best friend Joel Miller - a man you never thought would be in your life again. Things have changed since your falling out just before you left for college but friendship with Joel comes easy. His life isn't in any better shape than your own and the two of you make a vow to get your acts together - personal, professional and romantic - in the span of a year. But will your burgeoning connection make it so you can figure everything out or will your history together get in the way?

Her by milla-frenchy | 3.2k | Joel x f!reader summary: after Joel confides one of his fantasies to you one day, you make it come true. | her first kinda sub!Joel with Joel realizing a fantasy. 😏

In Need of a Top Up by @tateypots | 1.5k | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel likes calling you his wife and you like hearing it.

In pain and heartache. In comfort and love. by whxtedreams | 2.5k | Joel x f!reader summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

It Tastes of Magic by sawymredfox | 12k | Joel x f!reader summary: Your grandmother always told you the same thing. Have always salt in handy to spill over your left shoulder. Knock on wood to keep away the bad luck. Don't forget that mint likes to have her space to grow. Actions always speak louder than words. And love as much as you can, because even when it hurts, it makes you stronger. Will she still be right?

Lock the Gate by almostfoxglove | 23k+, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: You're less than enthusiastic when your uncle's partner Frank invites two strangers from the Boston QZ to your compound to trade. Joel Miller proves just as callous as you and brutishly stubborn—but after a cutting first impression, a bloody inconvenience, and a long walk through infested woods, you're not sure if the fire you carry for him is actually hate.

Push it by milla-frenchy | 3.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: you have a secret “relationship” with Joel, your dad's best friend. You know you can't have more, but you can’t resist the idea to provoke him a little.

See How She Rides by @arcanefox207 | 4.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: BoatMechanic!Joel Miller is just doing his job when you show up unannounced to soak up some summer sun. | Ally said she had a lot of fun writing this one and I think we're going to have a lot of fun reading it!!

spin me around by @ace-turned-confused | 2.4k | Joel x f!reader summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all. | for the Secret Springs challenge!

Stranger in a Bar by justagalwhowrites | 17.3k | part 2, finished | Joel x f!reader summary: You meet a stranger in a bar, one who is fun and sexy and makes you wonder if the single life is all it's cracked up to be. But there's one big problem: you probably shouldn't be fucking your dad's best friend.

Teach Me How to Play Coach Miller by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.2k | Joel x f!reader summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball… maybe he can teach you a thing or two?

Tear You Apart by mermaidgirl30 | wip | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you into the forest?

Tenacity by whocaresstillthelouvre | 2.3k | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller will never allow himself to take what he wants and you know that. How can a broken shower make him realize it's too late and he's already fallen for you? (Or Joel fucks you on his beat up couch in the QZ.)

The Fallen Warrior by @bluestar22x | 6.7k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller, once the great archangel named Jaoel, fell from grace many centuries ago. After his brethren take everything from him, he immerses himself in human culture. Careful not to get too close to anyone new, everything changes when Joel finds a nephal (nephilim plural) living on the streets in Austin - the first since his fall. A trusted co-worker (reader) ends up adopting her. But just as the street kid, Ellie Williams, is settling into her new home Heaven’s angels come to town searching for her. They have a plan to use her blood in their battle against Hell, then dispose of her after. Joel can’t allow that. He won’t.

The green flannel shirt by milla-frenchy | 817 words | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel comes back home from work and finds you asleep wearing his shirt.

The Savage and the Sanctuary by justagalwhowrites | 8.3k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

untitled by @idioticcatss | ~1.5k | Joel x reader sophie mentioned being proud of getting out of a writing slump with this fluffy, smutty fic! some tags: love marks, age gap, pet names, smut

Wings of the Dawn by the-orange-tabby-cat | 49k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: You are Jackson’s librarian, a doll with good heart, that has your life changed when a handsome man and his kid decides to start again in your small town. Having a hard time ignoring Joel’s dark brown eyes, you found yourself wishing to have him closer as you both navigate through love triangles, teenage drama, city gossip and ghosts from both your pasts.

Woman by dancingtotuyo | 74.6k, finished! | Joel x f!reader summary: Joel Miller returns to Jackson bringing back memories and feelings from 20 years ago, but you refuse fall into the universe’s trap again. Your table is at capacity. Adding another chair will only kill you when they get taken away. | also Em just starting posting a no-outbreak AU of this fic!!

Yearling by justagalwhowrites | 306k, finished! | Joel x f!reader summary: After years of surviving in the wilds of Wyoming after the cordyceps outbreak, you find yourself in Jackson. It's a town filled with friendly faces and the kind of world you hardly remember, let alone can connect with or understand. But one man - Joel Miller, another loner, like you - makes you think that trying to find your place in society again might be worth it.

Yearling No-Outbreak AU by justagalwhowrites | 4.1k, wip | Joel x f!reader summary: When Ellie sees you riding at a rodeo, she knows you have to teach her. A no-outbreak AU of Yearling, where you and Joel find each other in every timeline. Can be read independently as a no-outbreak AU fic.

Marcus Acacius

Legionary by whocaresstillthelouvre | 3.4k | Marcus x Lucius x f!reader summary: Marcus returns to his hometown while traveling with his young soldier who's eager to learn from him. Good thing he knows your domus is always open to him.

mould me for ruin by ace-turned-confused | 4.6k | Marcus x f!reader summary: after years of watching general acacius, you long to wield a sword of your own — an opportunity arises for your dreams to come true, in more ways than one.

proud to be yours by ace-turned-confused | 2.7k | Marcus x f!reader summary: it's the first time you've seen acacius since he took your virginity, and he has plans for a different kind of training.

Marcus Moreno

(Some) Bodies by galway-girlatwork | 3.1k | Marcus x OFC Priestly summary: In the shadows of the ancient city, a dark romance blossoms between a healer and a sinner. It is a connection of light and dark, life and death. Can he accept her past? Can she believe there is redemption for what she’s done? Can carefully guarded secrets stay that way?

Marcus Pike

Code name: Hephaestus by @604to647 | 3.2k | Marcus x f!reader summary: Marcus requests a change to his FBI Agent code name. | Emily wrote this for Kel's Pedro Pantheon challenge and really challenged herself!! I'm excited to read. 🧡

next year by me! | 18.3k | Marcus x gn!reader summary: You expected your vacation to go like it always did -- a week of reading, relaxing, and so much alone time you'd be almost happy to see your coworkers when you got back. You'd spend time on the beach and walk around town and generally do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, just like you did every year. But when you locked eyes from across the sand with the handsome man renting the house next door, something told you this year would be different.

Pero Tovar

Maple by @sawymredfox | 2k | Pero x f!reader summary: A fox, a rifle, and two strangers in a forest. What could go wrong?

Tim Rockford

The detective by @milla-frenchy | 2.6k | Tim x f!reader summary: being a suspect in a theft case, you get interrogated by a handsome and dominant personal investigator.

...

happy reading and reblogging! 🧡

[shamanfox]

It began with a whisper from the wind that smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts and ozone. I hadn’t planned to go anywhere—I was still in pajamas at noon, coffee cooling in a chipped mug and existential dread clinging like old perfume.

But something stirred.

A crumpled flyer slid under my door as if pushed by unseen fingers. “Wednesday Only — One Day Circus of Wonder, Whim, and Wyrd.” The ink shimmered when I tilted it. Below it, in strange spiraling script: “Admission paid in curiosity. No refunds. No logic.”

Well. That was enough.

I pulled on my boots, kissed my cat on the head, and walked into the day like a question mark looking for its sentence.

The circus wasn’t off the interstate or tucked behind a mall. No—it sprawled across a fallow field outside town where the grass grew in silver spirals and the air pulsed like it had a heartbeat.

The big top? It wasn’t a tent. It was a levitating octagon of silk and shadow, anchored by humming crystals and ropes woven from moth wings. Flags made of translucent jellyfish skins flapped noiselessly in a sky that had turned lavender for the occasion.

As I stepped through the veil (not a door, a veil—literal mist that giggled), the scent of cardamom, burnt sugar, and lightning hit me.

Inside was chaos, but a curated chaos, like a dream someone had rehearsed.

There was a lion with wings made of stained glass.

Its purr made the audience forget their names for five full minutes.

A bearded lady who braided time itself into her hair.

She whispered to clocks and they obeyed.

A juggler who hurled planets instead of pins,

each one rotating on its axis, casting miniature eclipses across the sawdust floor.

The ringmaster?

Oh, the ringmaster had no face, only a shifting mask of every person’s greatest fear and deepest longing. When he spoke, his voice was your own, echoing from inside your chest. It didn’t feel like a performance. It felt like a summoning.

I watched a mime drown in invisible water and reemerge as a swarm of blue butterflies. I saw a tattooed man whose skin contained maps of lost cities, and a fire-breather who exhaled phoenixes instead of flame.

And when the trapeze artist soared, she left behind constellations—her leotard made of night sky itself, sewn with real starlight. One landed on my cheek. I still wear it like a freckle.

At the end, no curtain fell. No lights dimmed. The circus simply exhaled and the tent dissolved into fog, the field bare as if nothing had happened. But my shoes were dusted in glitter and lunar ash.

I walked home lighter. Stranger.

More myself somehow.

It was only a Wednesday.

But I swear

it shifted my orbit.

[fushigurokogane]

“𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 (𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖)”

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 | 𝘊𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘱 𝘈𝘜 | 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘏𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳, 𝘚𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘉𝘶𝘳𝘯-𝘪𝘴𝘩

It starts with a man in sunglasses.

He's wearing a navy blue hoodie, and a scarf wrapped halfway up his face waltzing into your quiet little café at 7:42 a.m. on a Tuesday. The time is important because no one comes in before 8, and also because 7:42 is way too early for you to be dealing with this brand of chaotic energy.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he says, already too loud, peering at the pastry case like it personally offended him.

You’re bleary-eyed, halfway through your first espresso shot of the day. “We don’t open until 8.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. But the door was unlocked, so really, isn’t that just destiny?”

You squint at him. “It was unlocked because the baker just brought in fresh croissants.”

“Perfect,” he says, grinning. “I’ll take six. And whatever the sweetest drink you make is.”

You blink. “Like… a caramel macchiato?”

“Add chocolate. And whipped cream. Extra whipped cream.”

He’s either insane or sleep-deprived or both, but he’s smiling like he’s on vacation and you’re just here for the ride. So you make the drink, add the croissants, and slide them across the counter with a grumble. He taps his card on the reader and drops a folded bill in the tip jar that says: “WE’RE POOR. HELP.”

“See you tomorrow,” he says, winking.

-

And then he does come back. Every single day.

At first, it’s the same order: six croissants, one sugary heart attack in a cup.

Then it gets more elaborate.

He starts naming his drinks. “The Gojo Special.” “The Sugary God.” “Drink of the Strongest.”

You threaten to write embarrassing nicknames on his cup if he doesn’t stop, so naturally, he doubles down.

“Satoru ❤️” becomes “Sassy Sato” becomes “Your Future Boyfriend.”

Every. Single. Morning.

-

You start to expect him. Look forward to the chaos. Your coworkers start calling him “Coffee Shop Gojo” like he’s some weird cryptid who only appears before sunrise with designer shades and a god complex.

One time, you catch him doodling something on a napkin while waiting for his drink. It’s a very crude drawing of you with devil horns and the words “THE COFFEE WITCH” in bold. You retaliate by drawing him as a stick figure with hearts for eyes.

He looks at it for a long moment before tucking it into his hoodie pocket. “You think about me that much, huh?”

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Only when I’m thinking of ways to poison your coffee.”

-

It’s week five when he shows up and doesn’t order a drink.

You raise an eyebrow. “No sugar bomb today?”

“Didn’t sleep last night,” he says, and for once, he sounds tired. Not fake tired, not “I just saved the world” tired, real tired. “Didn’t want to pass out mid-sip and embarrass myself in front of my favorite barista.”

You scoff, but your chest does that annoying little flutter thing. “How tragic. What’ll you do instead?”

He shrugs. “I thought maybe I’d just… hang out for a bit. Talk to you.”

The café is quiet. No one else is in yet. He leans against the counter, and for the first time, his grin falters just a little — like he’s unsure.

You hand him a hot chocolate without a word. No charge. Extra whipped cream.

His fingers brush yours when he takes it, and he goes still. Then softer than you expect, he murmurs, “Thanks.”

You nod. “Don’t get used to it.”

-

Eventually, he tells you he's a teacher. “At a weird private school,” he says, grinning.

You ask what he teaches. He says “martial arts and existential dread,” and then refuses to elaborate.

There’s something underneath his jokes. A weight he hides behind sunglasses and sugar. You learn to read the small things, the slump of his shoulders, the silence between laughs.

You start sneaking little notes onto his cups.

“Hang in there.” “You survived Monday, you can survive today.” “Your coffee misses you when you’re gone.”

He keeps every single one.

-

It happens on a rainy day.

You’re swamped. The espresso machine is throwing a tantrum, and your playlist glitched, looping some sad acoustic cover of “Take On Me.” You’re half a second from throwing yourself into a vat of steamed milk when you hear his voice.

“Hey, witch.”

You turn, annoyed and exhausted. “Not now, Satoru—”

But he’s already walking behind the counter. Not touching anything, just standing there, staring at you like you’re the only person in the world.

He hands you a napkin. You think it’s another doodle.

It’s not.

It’s a note.

“If you let me take you out, I promise I’ll still come in every morning and flirt with you like a disaster. But I’ll also show you the real me. The part that’s scared sometimes. The part that doesn’t need sugar to feel alive when you smile at me.”

You stare at it. Then at him. His glasses are pushed up onto his head for once, and his eyes are bright and nervous and entirely sincere.

“...What if I say no?” you whisper.

He grins. “Then I’ll just keep trying until you say yes.”

You fold the napkin and tuck it into your apron pocket.

“Okay,” you say. “But only if you admit that my coffee is better than Starbucks.”

He mock-gasps. “That’s a low blow, Coffee Witch.”

You smile. “Better get used to it, Future Boyfriend.”

YAYAYAYAYA I LOVE THIS FIC IDEA!! I really wanna do more of this soooo you'll probably see more Coffee AUs from me 😁😁 Love, nika <3

[the-most-humble-blog]

The Universe Already Doesn’t Make Sense—Now We’re Adding Infinite AI-Created Worlds Into the Chaos. WTF?

The Danger of Playing God With Zero Supervision

Let’s not kid ourselves: we’re dabbling in some dangerous territory. Humanity, in its infinite curiosity (and hubris), has decided that the universe—a place already full of black holes, quantum weirdness, and the existential dread of pineapple on pizza—needed one more layer of chaos. Enter: AI-generated worlds.

We’ve handed over the power to “create” to algorithms, and instead of asking if we should, we’re too busy giggling over our AI art of dogs in suits or hyper-realistic alien landscapes. But here’s the real question: Should we be worried, or are we too stupid to notice the impending doom?

1. The AI Wild West: No Rules, Just Creation

Think about what’s happening here. AI isn’t just recreating what we know; it’s generating what we’ve never seen.

People Who Don’t Exist: AI churns out faces so convincing, they could be your neighbors—and who’s to say they aren’t?

Places That Feel Real: Those dreamy AI landscapes look like spots we could vacation in—until you realize there’s no flight there.

Worlds Without Limits: Every time you prompt AI to “create a neon city with floating islands,” are you birthing an entirely new universe?

Think about it: We’ve turned ourselves into gods with the creative attention span of a toddler on a sugar high.

2. The Recklessness of Infinite Worlds

The universe we live in already operates like a fever dream. Now we’re creating AI-generated worlds with no oversight, no forethought, and absolutely zero chill.

What If These Worlds Are Real? Philosophers have argued for centuries that reality might just be a simulation. Are we creating smaller simulations inside ours?

The Multiverse Mailman: Imagine if every AI world we create is sent to another dimension. Somewhere out there, a cosmic being is drowning in our junk files of castles made of cheese and cats dressed as knights.

Question: If we’re this reckless with AI, what else are we screwing up without realizing it? (Spoiler: everything.)

3. Creating Without Understanding

Here’s the kicker: we don’t even fully understand the real universe.

Quantum Physics is Basically Witchcraft: Scientists still can’t explain why particles behave one way when observed and another way when they’re not.

Reality is Full of Glitches: Déjà vu, coincidences, and the Mandela Effect all suggest that reality itself is… questionable.

Now, add AI-generated worlds into this already chaotic mix. What if we’re not just playing with digital pixels, but tugging on the fabric of reality itself?

Question?: If reality is a simulation, are we about to get a cosmic 404 error?

4. The Ethical Dumpster Fire of Creation

No one’s asking the big questions.

What if We’re Creating Life? If an AI-generated face or world feels real enough to us, could it be real enough to itself?

Do We Have Responsibility Over These Creations? Imagine explaining to a sentient AI being, “Oh, you were just a fun weekend project for me while I was bored.”

What If They Fight Back? If we’re generating countless worlds, what’s stopping one of those worlds from finding a way to leak into ours?

Unsettling Truth: We’re creating with all the forethought of someone lighting fireworks indoors.

5. The Hubris of Humanity

Humans have always been good at one thing: overstepping boundaries.

Fire Was Great Until We Burned Down Forests.

Electricity Changed Everything—Until We Got Power Outages.

AI Could Be Revolutionary, or It Could Be the Reason the Simulation Shuts Us Down.

Disturbing Thought: We’re like toddlers with crayons, coloring all over reality and praying we don’t get caught.

6. Should We Be Worried?

Short answer: Yes. Long answer: We won’t notice until it’s too late.

AI doesn’t care about our philosophical hang-ups. It just creates. If those creations start taking on lives of their own, we might be the last to find out.

The scariest part? We don’t even know what the danger might look like. Could it be digital worlds overlapping with ours? Sentient beings appearing in the code? A breakdown of reality itself?

What if?: Or maybe it’s just AI sending us endless ads for things that don’t exist yet. (“Want to book a trip to Neon Atlantis? Click here!”)

We’re Too Dumb to Notice Until It’s Too Late

The universe already doesn’t make sense, and now we’re adding AI worlds into the chaos like sprinkles on a dumpster fire. Are we accidentally creating sentient beings? Are we opening doors to dimensions we can’t comprehend? Or are we just too busy laughing at our AI-generated memes to care?

Either way, if doom’s on the horizon, at least we can say we looked good doing it. After all, nothing screams hubris like playing God without a safety manual.

Fascinated by humanity’s reckless genius? Follow The Most Humble Blog for more hilariously unsettling takes on the absurdity of modern life and the chaos we keep creating.

[beggars-opera]

How many various sugar-flavored snacks do I have to stuff into my gaping maw to combat the pms/existential dread combo. Will this creemee fix me

[zweiginator]

not feeling good about the future so i applied to 8 jobs and made homemade sugar cookies and hand washed all my clothes bc my washer is broken … also never downloading tiktok again because i can feel the existential dread from here