#they wrote the text

[galarfiend]

ouch

panel 2 of a comic i tried to make.

you only get this one, the panel that i did first and tried out a new style with.

when i tried to do the other panels and replicate the style, my sanity started to crack and i was going on 17 attempts and was on the verge of tears so i had to just give up

im going to try again tomorrow but if i still cant get it then im going to either start from scratch or scrap the comic entirely

but this panel --despite being my personal hell-- is cute nonetheless. so here <3

[cadmium-free]

terribly charmed by my sibling sending me a voice message that just said “i just always take ibuprofen at the wrong time. i had a headache all afternoon, from three to eight pm and then i took an ibuprofen half an hour before the headache went away! i could have just saved an ibuprofen!”

[arowrath]

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

The Bronx Zoo has just released Flaco's necropsy results.

He was not thriving, as the people championing the ideal of "freedom" claimed.

He was poisoned.

He was sick.

He was suffering.

"Freedom" would have eventually killed him. A building just happened to do it first.

"Postmortem testing has been completed for Flaco, the Eurasian eagle owl that was found down in the courtyard of a Manhattan building a little over a year after his enclosure at the Central Park Zoo was vandalized on February 2, 2023. Onlookers reported that Flaco had flown into a building on the Upper West Side of Manhattan on February 23, 2024, and acute trauma was found at necropsy. Bronx Zoo veterinary pathologists determined that in addition to the traumatic injuries, Flaco had two significant underlying conditions. He had a severe pigeon herpesvirus from eating feral pigeons that had become part of his diet, and exposure to four different anticoagulant rodenticides that are commonly used for rat control in New York City. These factors would have been debilitating and ultimately fatal, even without a traumatic injury, and may have predisposed him to flying into or falling from the building. The identified herpesvirus can be carried by healthy pigeons but may cause fatal disease in birds of prey including owls infected by eating pigeons. This virus has been previously found in New York City pigeons and owls. In Flaco’s case, the viral infection caused severe tissue damage and inflammation in many organs, including the spleen, liver, gastrointestinal tract, bone marrow, and brain.   No other contributing factors were identified through the extensive testing that was performed. Flaco’s severe illness and death are ultimately attributed to a combination of factors—infectious disease, toxin exposures, and traumatic injuries—that underscore the hazards faced by wild birds, especially in an urban setting."

The naturalistic fallacy kills animals in horrible ways. The romanticism of what humans want to think of as a "free, wild, pure life" cannot be allowed supplant the reality of injury, sickness, and death. Releasing captive animals (or keeping them from being recaptured) because it's "better" for them to suffer untethered than live a healthy, safe, captive life is inhumane and horrific.

Flaco's life didn't have to end in pain, sickness, and suffering.

Flaco's death didn't have to be tragic.

But once the idea of "freedom" entered the chat, Flaco's fate was unavoidable.

[aq2003]

sam and brennan’s greatest weaknesses (respectively)

(transcript under the cut)

[transcript:

Clip 1:

Elaine: It’s possible this is my new favorite bird!

Sam: I agree. Before, my favorite birds were... [pauses]

Elaine: What?

Sam: Fuck me.

Elaine: [Laughs]

Sam: Um, bluejay. A robin. A cardinal. A flamingo... [pauses] Dinosaurs were technically birds. A pterodactyl—

Brennan: Sorry, dinosaurs were technically birds?!

Sam: I was just listening to an NPR story about this, Brennan.

Brennan: I believe that you mean birds were technically dinosaurs. Not all dinosaurs, were birds!

Elaine: He has a point.

Sam: Oh god in heaven, I don’t know if I know five more birds.

Clip 2:

Carolyn: Woody Harrelson has the vibe of someone who should have been cancelled years ago, but remains one of the rare celebrities loved by both sides of the political aisle, like Dolly Parton, The Rock, and... Kid Rock.

Brennan: That’s the opposite of these five celebrities that both the left and the right hate... Honestly, just like a list of five celebrities would be enough to really... [sigh] oh god, who’s famous? Um...

Sam: Who’s famous?

Carolyn: [Laughs]

Sam: This is like me with the birds.

Brennan: Oh, god, let’s switch. Let Sam name five famous people and I’ll name five birds. I’ll name a hundred birds!

Sam: Nobody wants your birds, Brennan!

Brennan: PLEASEEEEEEE

[/end transcript]

[marinememes]

Super cool ocean fact: there is at least 6 fish in the ocean

[sorrcha]

benthic angel

was writing about lake sturgeon for a class assignment and showed one of my friends what i'd written.. he then sent part of it back to me with line breaks to turn it into a poem! i just had to draw something for it :]

poem text under the readmore:

lake sturgeon don't know that they're endangered. They don't know anything - other than the muck at the bottom of the water column and the occasional passing touch of another.

really touched by how my friend turned my technical writing into poetry. i haven't tried to write creatively in months, so it's nice to see i've still got it- and nicer still that i could get so inspired by my friend, since i haven't made nature art in a little while, either :>!!

[tailsnumber1fan]

STOP NAGGING ME‼️

alt VVV

[subterra-rose]

[localapparently]

/ orv epilogue + sp identity spoilers , cw blood

!! Please do NOT reupload my comics / works anywhere !!

(Read right to left)

[erwinsvow]

You creep carefully into Rafe’s bedroom, pushing the already-open door gently with your palm. Your eyes dart around, worried he’s going to be just around the corner, but you’re greeted with nothing—just the empty space that belongs to Rafe.

How exactly did you get yourself into this? It had started a few hours ago—at least that’s what you thought. You didn’t have any clue what Sarah and her new friends were up to, you were just over for a pre-planned girls night that was dismissed the second you walked into Tannyhill. Instead, Sarah asks for a favor, one that you deny almost immediately.

“You’ll be in and out, it won’t take more than a minute-”

“I am not sneaking into Rafe’s room for you, Sarah. What if he-he catches me? Finds me in there? What am I gonna say?”

“He’s not gonna be home later, I promise. It’ll be a second, and he’s always liked you most out of all my friends so he won’t even care-”

Your face flushes at the very sentence. Her brother, Rafe, the one that you’ve only interacted with on chance occasions, the one who makes your heartbeat speed up anytime he’s in the vicinity, that very Rafe, has always liked you? 

You’re too caught up in that thought and its implications to even question Sarah anymore. Her new friends—Pogue friends, ones that you don’t know and aren’t sure how long they’ve known her—linger by the door. They seem eager to make sure that you agree. 

You’re being moved around the board like a chess piece but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s shallow, you know, as one thought circulates through your mind, body, and bloodstream—Rafe has always liked you. 

A hazy, dreamy mist settles over you. You agree to Sarah, feeling increasingly stupid as you settle into the living room and keep your eyes on the television. She left with her friends, and when Rafe comes down, you’re supposed to tell him you’re waiting for his sister. Once he leaves, you need to sneak into his bedroom to find a map they seem to desperately need. One of the boys suggests it’ll be in his sock drawer.

“It’s not a porn magazine, JJ, why would it be there-”

“Oh, um, I don’t know, just that it’s the number one male hiding spot-” “What studies are you basing this off of?”

"A little thing called the study of life, Pope-”

You had interrupted them yourself, reassuring that you’ll look in his dresser and his desk. 

But now, walking into Rafe’s bedroom, you're losing all your nerve. You’ve thought about this before—you’d be lying to yourself to deny it. Any girl who has a best friend with a cute older brother has too. In the summers you sleep at Tannyhill more often than your own house, but you still could have never imagined this would be the reason you’re in Rafe’s room for the first time.

The house is silent, just like Sarah had told you. Mr. and Mrs. Cameron out at the country club, Wheezie at the beach, Sarah supposedly with you but actually with those Pogues. She says Rafe is gone too, driving around somewhere with his friends, and you believe her without a second thought.

But you do have a second thought, and it's the fact that this is so beyond wrong.

Looking through Rafe’s belongings with your eyes, your hands start to tremble at the idea of touching something of his without his permission. You want to swallow your nerves to do this for your friend, but you hesitate, hands hovering over the drawer to his dresser.

For a second, you want to puke, worried that you’ll open this drawer to find porn magazines like John B had said, or worse—photos of one of his girls that you really don’t want to see. 

Your shaking hands pull open the top-most drawer, but everything calms down once it’s open. Besides for white socks and plaid boxers, there’s nothing in there. Your shoulders relax, your knees feeling weak.

Then you wonder for a second—why were you so worried about finding evidence of some other girl in his bedroom? Your mind spins briefly, worried at how attached you really are to Sarah’s brother, someone who’s never spoken to you more than a handful of times. A million thoughts run through your brain, all of them about Rafe and none of them noticing the way his bedroom door has just opened wide.

“Looking for something?” The timber of Rafe’s voice hits your ears and you freeze, probably looking like something out of a cartoon, shoulders tense, eyes wide. You’re still facing his dresser, and you really, really don’t want to turn, but you do, and then you wish you hadn’t.

Rafe’s dripping wet—damp hair sticking to his forehead, a towel around his waist and droplets of water glittering on his abs. He’s looking at you like he never has before. Your eyes are focused on everything else—the bare skin of his chest, his huge arms, the blue color of his towel.

“My eyes are up here, kid.” 

Like a deer caught in headlights, you turn your gaze up to lock eyes. You’re terrified—he has to be angry, no, furious. You’re practically a stranger to him, a stranger invading his privacy. But when you finally take in his expression, it’s not angry. He looks amused, a smirk playing at his lips while he takes you in, standing before him like a child about to be reprimanded for touching something that doesn’t belong to them. 

“I-I…” you trail off, swallowing hard, still staring at Rafe.

“You, you?” he mocks. You think you’re going to start crying but no tears well up—yet. “What’re you looking for?” he asks it seriously, his tone shifting. 

You’ve never spoken to Rafe enough to notice, but he’s incredibly domineering. You shrink just from his gaze, while he closes the door and walks closer to you. 

“Um, I-” You stop yourself short.

“Looking for trouble, huh?” He says it like it’s a joke, but you know he’s not kidding. Your head shakes, trying to convince him you’re not, but it’s not much use.

He’s not very far from you now, maybe another foot and you could smell the scent of his soap, another few inches and you could feel the heat radiating off of his bare body. 

You realize how you must look right now, wearing a tiny dress because of the heat outside but now feeling goosebumps prick along your arms. Your bare feet rest on his carpet while your hands feel clammy from how scared you are.

“I, uh, I needed socks.” You look down at your feet and he does too, looking back up at the same time. 

“Socks? From me?”

“Couldn’t find Sarah’s. She needs to do laundry.”

“So you came in here to get mine?”

“I-I’ll bring them back. Washed. Promise.” Your gaze is now dying to avoid his, looking all around his room and then turning back to the drawer to take out a pair. 

You feel a wet hand on your arm, turning you back around at full force, his balled up socks falling from your hand as you stare Rafe in the eyes. He must be able to tell from the way your body shakes in his grip, how your eyelids are fluttering fast, how scared you are.

“Don’t lie to me, kid. I won’t like it.” You suck in a sharp breath. A few moments pass.

“I’m not lying, Rafe. Promise.”

You actually don’t know it happens—ending up with his towel on the floor and your sundress right next to it, tangled up in the sheets, your body folded in half with Rafe pounding into you. He grips your cheeks and fucks you like you’re his, like he owns your pussy and every other part of you. It goes on for so long you lose track, forgetting everything else but how to say Rafe’s name, remembering nothing but how he sounded groaning into your ear. He kisses you, hard and wet, and that’s when you cum for the third—fourth? fifth? you’ve lost track—time. He cums too—inside you, and normally you think you’d maybe have an issue with that, but since you were the one begging for it, you don’t think you’re allowed to say anything in the way of a complaint.

Rafe rolls off of you a little bit later, after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath. You think he’s gonna tell you to get out so you try to get up yourself, trying to balance on trembling legs, when he puts his hand on your waist and steadies you back onto the bed.

“What’d you need? You should sit.” You look up at him, surprised. He doesn’t like it. “Water?” You nod, and he pulls on some sweatpants and forgoes a shirt, walking out and closing the door softly behind him. 

You get comfortable under Rafe’s sheets, pulling them up to cover yourself and body sinking into his bed. You reach out to find your phone, which has somehow ended up on the nightstand even though you don’t recall putting it there. There’s a few new messages. 

Sarah: Did you go in yet?

Sarah: I think he left, go now!!

Then one from thirty minutes after that.

Sarah: Did you find it?? Call me!!

You reply quickly, setting the phone down when you hear Rafe’s hand on the doorknob.

Sorry, didn’t find anything. Had to go, I’ll see you tomorrow.

[leaderwonim]

WHAT’S YOUR ETA ?!

pairing. exbf’s best friend!heeseung x fem!reader

summary. although heeseung’s always believed in bro code, he can’t help but call you when he sees your boyfriend, park sunghoon, cheat on you with some girl at a party. don’t worry though, heeseung can prove he’s much better than sunghoon.

“Hey! Y/N?” The voice of Lee Heeseung comes through your phone, his camera shaky and pointed at the ground which was covered in what you can only assume is confetti.

“Heeseung?” You say quietly, rubbing your eyes as you sat up from your bed. “Don’t you have a performance later?”

“I cannot believe this,” you recognize the voice of Park Jongseong, who recently became close friends with you after discovering you both liked cooking.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend?” Heeseung moves the camera view from the floor towards the pool of a house you don’t know, zooming into what looks like your boyfriend, Park Sunghoon, talking to another girl.

“Hurry up and get over to Lia’s house!” Jongseong says, eyebrows furrowed. “Oh my God—look at them.”

When the camera finally clears, you realize it’s Yuna standing next to your boyfriend, touching and grazing his arms while he smiles down at her.

Unable to handle it any longer, you practically jump up from the bed, running into your bathroom with your phone in hand.

“Hey, me and Jongseong have to perform,” Heeseung speaks up. “We’ll call you back!”

Heeseung hangs up the FaceTime, and you want to slam your head against your mirror when the sleepiness wears off and you let what you just saw sink into your brain.

“It’s always the girl that he tells you not to worry about,” you say grumpily, brushing your teeth so harshly that the toothbrush practically falls out of your mouth.

By the time Heeseung and Jongseong finish their performance, the crowd was cheering like crazy, but they were both too concerned as to where you were to care.

“Hey Hee!”

The voice of Park Sunghoon almost makes the two boys fall back first into the pool, but luckily Jongseong gripped the back of Heeseung’s shirt tightly so they wouldn’t trip.

“What’s up?” Heeseung chuckles nervously, eyes wandering around to see if Yuna was hanging around nearby.

He knew Park Sunghoon all too well to know that he was most likely going to take Yuna to his house after Lia’s party. Sunghoon was his best friend, but that doesn’t automatically mean Sunghoon was a good person.

“Your performance was killer, man.” Sunghoon pats Heeseung’s back, “you too Jongseong, the way you dance was just flawless.”

“Mhm.” Jongseong tries his best to smile at Sunghoon, which didn’t work because it looks like he was constipated.

“Okay.” Sunghoon awkwardly smiles, patting Heeseung’s back one more time before descending back into the crowd.

“What was that?” Heeseung says, laughing so hard he has to clutch his stomach. “Your eyes were twitching and you looked like you’re gonna poop!”

“Shut up!” Jongseong pushes the older boy back in annoyance. “I didn’t want to speak with that cheater, Y/N’s my friend.”

It was as if Jongseong’s mention of your name spawned you to the party because there you were, walking up to them with the angriest look a woman could have.

“Where is he?” You say, scanning the crowd with a glare.

“Whoa there,” Heeseung places both his hands on your shoulders, “do you really want to do this here? I don’t want Sunghoon to embarrass you.”

“Who says I’m going to end it?” You say, challenging the two boys who’s jaws practically drop to the ground.

“What? Cmon! He’s real bad Y/N, just end it.” Jongseong begs.

“He’s right,” Heeseung says, bambi eyes dosing down at you. “Don’t indulge him.”

“Promise me you’ll pop his tires with me if he embarrasses me?” You ask Jongseong, who automatically nods as he lets out a small giggle.

“Popping his tires and keying his car.”

“Okay,” you take a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

You spot Park Sunghoon easily now, it wasn’t so hard when Shin Yuna was all up on him.

“Sunghoon!” You yell, which attracts the bystanders nearby. “You cheating bitch!”

Sunghoon’s expression quickly turns into panic, his face converted into a nervous fit of giggles that past you would’ve found endearing and cute.

“What on earth are you talking about?” He chuckles, grabbing your arm as he smiles at bystanders. “Can we not do this here?”

“Oh we’re doing this here.” You elbow him in the stomach, which works because he groans and loses the grip he had on your arm. “We’re done, over. I’ll mail your shit to you so I don’t have to see you ever again. And if you try to come back, I’ll make sure to have Heeseung beat your ass.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrow and his expression darkens. “Heeseung? Why would my best friend beat my ass for you?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” You grin. “He was the one who told me you were cozying up with Shin Yuna you bastard!”

“Okay—that’s enough,” Yuna steps in, which only fuels your anger even more.

“You’re so lucky I don’t believe in violence.” You spit out at both of them in disgust.

“Oh please, you wouldn’t dare to hit me.”

“But I would.” Sunghoon has no time to react to Heeseung’s words because his face was already met with the older boy’s fist, making him collide with the floor.

“Holy shit!”

“Sunghoon!”

While Yuna’s busy helping Sunghoon off the ground, Jongseong grabs both you and Heeseung, running towards Lia’s backyard door.

“That was fucking amazing.” Jongseong breathes out. “You punched your best friend.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung sucks in a breath when he realizes it’s starting to bruise. “He’s definitely gonna kill me.”

“Not if I kill him first,” you mumble, carefully grabbing ahold of Heeseung’s hand. “We’re gonna need to bandage your hand. Come to my house.”

Jongseong watches with a smirk as you still hold onto Heeseung’s hand. He walks behind the two of you, happy that you were finally with someone better than Sunghoon.

“This has happened more than once, hasn’t it?” You say, frowning as you patted Heeseung’s bruising hand with ointment.

“I saw it before but you weren’t there,” Heeseung says, sucking in his breath. “I didn’t want to believe Sunghoon was cheating on you so I waited to see if he was gonna do it again. And he did.”

“What an asshole,” Jongseong adds in. “I’m gonna key his daddy’s money Mercedes Benz.”

The three of you laugh, the sadness of the situation wearing down slowly.

“Thanks for telling me Hee,” you say, finally making eye contact with him. “I know you guys were friends for a while.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do what’s right.” Heeseung sighs. “Remember when you couldn’t come to Jongseong’s birthday because he wanted you to help him with economics homework?”

Jongseong lets out a gasp. “Oh my gosh, now that Heeseung’s mentioned it, you did miss my birthday because of that fucker!”

“And remember when I got into trouble? He ditched me even though I’m the closest friend he has.” Heeseung chuckles bitterly. “Or when I got broken up with and Sunghoon told you not to comfort me because it wasn’t your place.”

“I now realize how much power he had over me,” you say, lips curving into the saddest frown Heeseung’s ever seen.

“Hey—it’s okay.” He reassures you. “You were being manipulated by him, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s really not!” Jongseong yells from the living room.

You two roll your eyes at his small commentary, and when you lock eyes again, Heeseung can’t help but break into a smile, admiring how beautiful you looked.

“You deserve better.” Heeseung says breathily.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” His eyes trail down to your lips before looking up at you with those brown bambi eyes again. “You deserve better like me.”

Heeseung doesn’t have to say it twice before you’re crashing your lips onto his, the shriek of Park Jongseong and a cup breaking goes unnoticed by the two of you.

[evilrat-sabre]

This isn't about Strawberry jam

I want to ramble on about something I am not so sure about what it is, so I will tell yall a story.

So imagine this; You are 20 years old, you live with your partner in your shared apartment, your partner buys a tiny glass jar of strawberry jam. 

If I pointed at that moment and asked you what it was, I think you would say “Well, it's a jar of strawberry jam” 

Okay now, imagine one week later; the jam was good, but the jar was tiny so you and your partner already ate all of it, holding the empty and dirty jar you realize, wow it has a very nice shape, maybe I can use it as a cup, so you clean the jar and lets it sitting beside your water filter. 

If I pointed now and asked what it was, what would you say? “It’s an empty jar of strawberry jam that we use to drink water.”

Okay cool, nice and practical, lets go forward, Imagine 10 years later… Yea I know a lot of time, but hear me out; You are 30 years old and you had a child in the meantime, this child is 7 years old. 

If I pointed to the empty jar of strawberry jam and asked what it is, you know what they would say? “It’s a glass cup, we use it to drink water.” Do you see where I am going?

Okay now let's go 30 years in the future, imagine; you are 60 years old and this story isn’t about you anymore, no this story is about your grandchild now. Your 37 years old child has a 10 year old child themselves now. If I pointed to the glass cup and asked the same old question, what would they say? “Oh that's a vintage glass cup that belonged to my grandparents, my parents get it out on… special occasions.” Okay cool, it's a vintage heirloom now I guess.

Okay now Imagine; Someone broke it, what would be said if I pointed to the glass and asked you to say what it is?

“This was an empty jar of Jam, we bought it a bunch of years ago and I don’t remember if the Jam was good or not, but it served us well.”

Ok, and If I asked your child?

“Oh, this was an old glass cup that was in my parents house. I liked to use it when we would drink vodka… I think it was older than me. It's a shame it is broken.”

Your grandchild?

“This was a family heirloom. It was older than my parents and I pretended to give it to my child one day. To be honest, the thing was old, it is a miracle how long it lasted.”

The garbage man that will dispose of it.

“Someone threw broken glass in the wrong bin, I will have to put on my gloves.”

[beej-machinations]

aroace? no. aggroace. i've had enough.

[astronomodome]

cyber yoel

[yesokayiknow]

happy birthday to the worst girl in the universe (23 november 1986 - 2016 (eventually))