#what are you queueing?

[glendasguidance]

this shit needs to be banned

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

[glendasguidance]

I decided to start slow with my patreon (launching May 31st!!) and do 1 tier instead of 3 (for now). Apparently you can hide tiers without deleting them, and guess who deleted ALLLLL that writing 😐

At least I took screenshots before I deleted them, but still 🙃

[wardensantoineandevka]

is that piece of media actually bad, or is it just not following the blueprint you projected onto it? is that work actually not good, or are you just demanding something from it that is absolutely antithetical to its themes, genre, tone, and narrative goal? is that story actually poorly written, or do you just dislike that it is not the specific things you wanted from it that it never set out to be, never was, and never is going to become? is it actually bad, or is it actually well-executed and you just dislike the story it chose to be because it isn't catering to your specific desires and expectations?

[quiescentdestiny]

so many people out here saying Neil lied about going to California, but low-key I assumed it was more of a "didn't ask" type situation.

Even Kevin says "we knew who he was meeting, so we assumed he was going to Baltimore."

Neil is the king of "ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies".

Andrew wasn't angry because he didn't care that Neil had lied. Because he technically didn't, and Andrew lives on black and white and technicalities.

[deerspherestudios]

Hello Cheea! i was wondering if we could have a doodle of Vida, please? i like to draw them a lot but sadly there aren't many references other than the game sprites, i love Alma/Vida, they are my favorite character, no pressure and thank you! i hope you have a good day

I don't have a reference sheet unfortunately (it's definitely in my plans to make one for both Alma/Vida and Atom) but have something one of my lovely Patrons requested in the meantime:

[katebeckets]

how to say "I love you" in x-files [107/?] ⤷ 1.11 — “Eve”

[glendasguidance]

This makes me feel like Antphrodite’s reading on the next pope is probably going to be true, and at least mostly true. If that’s the case, I’m excited. We need more anti-war leaders, people who actually care about peace and healing.

I get such a comforting vibe off of him. I know almost nothing about him, but I strangely feel comforted seeing pictures of him. I grew up Catholic and Pope Benedict XVI creeped me out (and considering how much he covered up sexual abuse happening in the church, kid me was right), so it’s nice to have a second pope now that doesn’t give me the heebeejeebees.

If he stands for peace and equality, I’m sending him all my support.

Also, yay for Chicago ❤️

:¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ masterlist `· . ꔫ

ִ ✦ . !DISCLAIMER! ⊹　 ❜ ᵎ for entertainment purposes only i’m  not  a  professional  astrologer,  so  take  this with  a  grain  of  salt!

𓂃 . 𐑞 i  was  looking  into  the  chart  of  the  new  pope.  since  we  don’t  know  his  exact  birth  time,  i  focused  on  the  major  conjunctions.  one  placement  really  caught  my  eye is his  north  node  at  22°  sagittarius.

𓂃 . 𐑞 now,  22°  is  known  to  be  an  intense  degree.  in  astrology,  it's  sometimes  linked  to  life-and-death  situations,  major  transformation,  or  moments  of  extreme  loss  and  rebirth.  it  can  symbolize  being  on  the  edge.  whether  that  means  literal  danger  or  total  spiritual  crisis.  what  struck  me  even  more  is  that  i  have  pluto  at  exactly  22°,  in  my  7th  house,  so  i  know  how  heavy  and  intense  that  energy  can  feel.  it’s  not  subtle.

𓂃 . 𐑞 this  placement  made  me  wonder: is  this  pope  going  to  bring  destruction  or  deep  change  to  the  belief  systems  we’ve  known?  i  think  so.  his  chart  suggests  he’s  here  to  shake  things  up.

𓂃 . 𐑞 one  of  the  biggest  indicators  is  his  moon  conjunct  pluto.  that  kind  of  emotional  intensity  can  make  someone  a  lightning  rod  for  projection.  people  might  see  in  him  what  they  fear,  or  what  they  secretly  admire.  he’ll  likely  be  a  very  polarizing  figure.  some  will  worship  him,  others  might  hate  him  with  everything  they’ve  got.  this  is  pluto  we’re  talking  about.  there’s  a  deep,  almost  fated  energy  to  it.

𓂃 . 𐑞 he  also  has  jupiter  conjunct  pluto,  and  we  know  jupiter  expands  everything  it  touches.  combine  that  with  pluto.  the  planet  of  destruction,  rebirth,  secrets,  and  power.  you  get  someone  who  could  radically  transform  religious  institutions.  especially  because  jupiter  rules  sagittarius,  and  his  north  node  is  there  too.  it’s  giving  “tear  down  the  old  to  make  space  for  the  new”  energy.  honestly,  i  wouldn’t  be  surprised  if  he  exposes  corruption,  reveals  secrets,  or  challenges  centuries  of  tradition.

𓂃 . 𐑞 there’s  a  possibility  that  this  transformation  won’t  be  peaceful.  he  might  face  real  danger,  especially  with  this  level  of  power  and  disruption  in  his  chart.  he  could  become  a  symbol  of  spiritual  revolution  but  also  a  target.

𓂃 . 𐑞 emotionally,  he  seems  deeply  tied  to  his  mission.  his  sun  and  moon  conjunct  mars  give  him  an  unstoppable  will.  he’s  passionate  and  might  even  be  combative  when  defending  what  he  believes  in.  this  is  someone  who  fights  for  faith.  not  with  softness,  but  with  fire.  there’s  a  warrior  archetype  here,  wrapped  in  spiritual  clothing.

𓂃 . 𐑞 at  the  same  time,  there’s  a  softness  to  him  too.  sun  conjunct  venus  can  make  someone  warm,  loving,  and  even  magnetic.  people  might  feel  drawn  to  him  not  just  because  of  what  he  says,  but  because  of  how  deeply  he  seems  to  care.  and  with  mercury  conjunct  neptune,  he  might  speak  in  a  way  that  feels  prophetic  or  poetic  like  he’s  channeling  something  divine.  but  it  could  also  make  him  misunderstood,  especially  by  people  who  aren’t  ready  for  what  he’s  saying.

𓂃 . 𐑞 he’s  here  to  tell  a  higher  truth,  to  reveal  what’s  been  hidden,  and  to  push  people  out  of  blind  faith  and  into  conscious  belief.  that  sagittarius  north  node  gives  him  a  mission  rooted  in  truth,  expansion,  and  philosophical  or  spiritual  evolution.  he’s  not  here  to  maintain  what’s  already  built.  he’s  here  to  burn  away  the  illusions.

𓂃 . 𐑞 i’ve  seen  people  already  calling  him  things  like  the  antichrist,  which  feels  like  a  reaction  to  how  deeply  uncomfortable  his  presence  might  be  for  some.  personally,  i  think  he’s  just  a  catalyst  for  transformation.  a  mirror  that  forces  people  to  look  at  their  own  faith  and  question  it.

𓂃 . 𐑞 also,  he’s  has  a  lot  virgo  in  his  chart,  which  honestly  makes  sense.  there’s  a  strong  theme  of  service,  dedication,  and  maybe  even  sacrifice  in  his  chart.  he  feels  like  someone  who  was  born  to  carry  a  heavy  spiritual  burden.  if  he’s  not  careful,  it  could  consume  him.  but  if  he  handles  it  right,  he  could  change  everything.

[siryyeet]

They'll never understand the epic highs (Firlefanz) and ''lows'' (Grundstücksverkehrsgenehmigungszuständigkeitsübertragungsverordnung) of the german language

[abbotjack]

when would jack stutter, have to catch his breath? whether it be something he sees, hears, smells. what makes him take pause?

Jack Abbot doesn’t stutter for effect. He doesn’t lose his words in arguments or get flustered in tension. He was trained—trained—to speak clearly through chaos. To radio for medevac while pressure-wrapping a wound with one hand. To give the date, time, and morphine dose to a nineteen-year-old he was holding together by sheer will while bullets cracked overhead. Words, for Jack, have always been tools. Precise. Tactical. Controlled.

So when Jack stutters, it’s never performance. It’s never dramatics. It’s malfunction. It means something short-circuited so violently inside him that all his practiced scripts—the field medic instincts, the ER attending cadence, the gallows humor—all of it collapses under the weight of something real.

It’s not trauma that makes him pause. He’s acclimated to that. It’s gentleness. It’s earnestness. It's the things no one ever trained him to survive.

It starts small.

You’re in his kitchen one morning, still in sleep clothes. No makeup. You open the fridge and mutter, “We need more eggs.” Not he needs. Not you need. We.

Jack freezes.

Just for a second. Just long enough that the corner of the coffee filter burns.

Because he’s spent years learning how to survive alone. Alone is safe. Alone is math he can do. But we? We is dangerous. We has loss baked into it.

So when you say something that sounds like permanence without even realizing it, Jack looks down at the mug in his hand like he forgot how it got there.

“You okay?” you ask, still rummaging.

“Yeah, I just—” He exhales, blinks. “I—uh, it’s—fine.”

It’s not the word he’s fumbling over. It’s the feeling.

Then it escalates.

You wear his sweatshirt to the grocery store and complain about the sleeves being too long. You say it in passing—no agenda, no performance. Just an offhanded “How the hell do your arms fit in this thing?”

Jack laughs. He nods. He goes quiet.

And later, when you’re brushing your teeth, he stands in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you like he’s never seen anything more disarming.

“You know you, uh—” He pauses. Swallows. “You look good in that.”

And that stutter? It’s not nerves. It’s not lust. It’s ache. It’s how dare you look like home in my clothes when I never thought I’d have one again. It’s him tasting the fact that someone might love him with the lights on. With the ghosts still in the room.

But the worst of it—the deepest malfunction—is when you touch the part of him he hides.

It’s a Tuesday. You’re lying in bed. Jack’s out of the shower, towel around his waist, residual steam curling off his shoulders. You’re half asleep when he climbs in, careful, always careful. The prosthetic is off. His right leg ends below the knee, the skin there pale, uneven in tone, scarred in a way that doesn’t fade with time.

You don’t flinch. You never have.

You roll over, press your face into his chest, and—without thinking—run your hand down his thigh and stop at the point where flesh becomes absence. Where history lives in muscle memory.

He draws in a sharp breath—sudden, ragged—like it knocked the wind out of him.

“Sorry,” you whisper, pulling back.

But he grabs your wrist. Not to stop you. To ground himself. To hold the moment in place.

“No, I—” His voice cracks. The words don’t follow. “It’s not—I just—” He blinks fast, jaw twitching. “I wasn’t—expecting that.”

Because what you touched wasn’t just skin. It was the thing he’s ashamed of needing love through. The thing people look at and get polite. The thing strangers pretend not to notice. The thing he never believed could be part of desire. And you just touched it like it was his. Like it was safe.

That’s when Jack stutters.

When you make the part of him he’s spent years compartmentalizing feel not just accepted—but wanted.

But maybe the most dangerous kind of stutter—the kind that ruins him—isn’t even about touch.

It’s when you fight.

Not over something petty. Something real. Something that threatens the fragile trust he’s learning to build. Maybe you accuse him of shutting you out again. Of pulling back every time things get too close. And you’re right. You’re so right it guts him.

He raises his voice. Snaps something defensive. His default. Control the room. Win the logic. Out-talk the fear.

But then you say it.

“Jack, you don’t have to be perfect to be loved.”

And that sentence? That sentence breaks him.

Not because of what it is.

Because of what it isn’t.

It isn’t a demand. It isn’t a plea. It’s grace. Unconditional. Unflinching. And it makes no goddamn sense to a man who’s only ever been valued for what he can fix, what he can endure, what he can sacrifice.

So he stares at you.

“You don’t—” His voice falters. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” you whisper.

And he stutters. He turns away. Rubs his jaw. Blinks hard.

Because he wants to believe you. More than anything. But his nervous system doesn’t know how to file that truth under anything but threat.

He says, “I just—” and never finishes.

Because he can’t.

Because it’s too much.

Because your love is louder than his guilt, and that is a sound Jack Abbot doesn’t know how to live through.

That’s when he stutters.

When you say something that unravels the wire he’s been holding himself together with since the war. Since the job started asking more than he had to give and he gave it anyway.

When you look at him like he is not a burden. Like he is allowed to stay.

That’s what makes Jack Abbot forget how to speak.

Not blood.

Not death.

But the unbearable mercy of being loved anyway.

[solarpunkani]

Listen I’m not saying that *I* have the balls to buy a reflective vest and go off on a roadside or retention pond somewhere and start fucking around guerrilla gardening

But I am saying that the past week I’ve driven past many MANY people in reflective vests either doing roadwork or maintaining roadside shrubbery or whatever and the amount of times I considered questioning what the fuck they were doing is zero and the amount of times I would’ve even had the TIME to question what the fuck they were doing is zero

I saw groups of people I saw someone solo I didn’t question it I just figured ‘eh they’re doing SOMETHING and carried on. Depending on the location you pick, anyone who WOULD Karen up and interrogate you won’t even have the time space or ability to

[bereft-of-frogs]

I just wish that more people recognized that not all fiction is allegorical, and you don't have to constantly be grasping at real world parallels to figure out what the 'correct' moral interpretation of fiction is, you can just sit with the story

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

the gang calls Pony's track meets 'the pony races' btw. as always. my source is 'came to me in a dream'

[oriixxc]

a quick sketch practice

Timelapse

[crsssie]

soul baby - grim reaper x reader (Spoiler Warning For Grim's Name)

Grim reapers don't have time to reproduce and fall in love. There's no time in the underworld for that. They claim a soul every couple of minutes, and they get some time to recover during the time that their souls are unbalanced.

Though, as much as he finds you to be infuriatingly flirtatious and messing with his head, you weren't wrong when you told him that you'd make a soul baby with him.

Maybe that's how you first got into his head.

And when sound of your skin and his echoes through your apartment, your nails clawing down his back desperately, Casper wonders for a moment, just a moment, if you were really just some mortal, or if death itself came up and decided that he was too lonely. He doesn't mind the way your nails draw blood on his back, and he leans in further, pressing your legs against your chest as he thrusts into you again.

"Ca—" You gasp. "Casper."

"Yes, sunshine?"

You moan as you feel him force himself further inside of you.

"'s too much."

"What happened to the flirty little thing in the chatroom?" He tilts his head teasingly, lips pulled into a smile. "You're so bold when there's a screen."

"Ah," Your back arches as your chest presses to his, lips quivering as you whimper.

"Speechless?" He speeds up, using his body weight to press you down. "Thought you wanted a soul baby. You want me to put one in you? Hm?"

You nod your head feverishly, eyes blowing wide as you cling onto his shoulders.

"Alright. Don't waste anything, sunshine."

You moan as he cums in you, legs shaking as you feel his warmth flood inside of you, and you gasp, eyes teary. You cling onto him while shaking, only relaxing when you feel him collapse on top of you, cock plugging you full and keeping his cum inside of you. You catch your breath as he nuzzles his nose into your jaw, pressing a gentle kiss there.

"Was I good?"

"You were great, casp."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Heh...Literally nothing personal, kid.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[defilerwyrm]

Part of growing up is learning some hard lessons like

Fiction isn't reality

Having a kink or fantasy isn't the same as wanting or doing the actual thing

Fantasies don't predict reality or we'd all be rich

Thought crimes aren't real

Some people have kinks and/or fantasies you personally find icky, but you don't have a right to tell them not to

Some people with trauma work their shit out in ways that you personally find icky, but you don't have a right to tell them not to

Conservatives will take advantage of your desire to be seen as a Good Person™️ to push you to the right

You are responsible for curating your online experience

Censorship is inevitably racist, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic

If you're a furry, no matter how many lines you draw in the sand, at the end of the day the rest of the world still sees you as some weirdo who cranks it to Donald Duck