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"if we wait long enough eventually the camera will lose its moment and people will un-invent the portraiture plagiarism machine and no longer use it". you guys are really funny.

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do people have no shame anymore?

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???

"‘mech pilots are horny because they get sweaty and fuck after the fights’ you pedestrian, mech pilots are horny because the neural feedback loop from striking an acquired target w/ +90% accuracy on a full flight of LRMs makes most pilots leak in their seat. It’s not about two pilots, separated by mountains of metal, learning to mutually respect the others skill it’s about how these industrial war machines have direct lines into their nervous systems and an oxytocin & dopamine tap directly linking destruction to pleasure."

-twitter user nyetalia

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i'm having a good day good day good day

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yowl

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shark buddy

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Chum 162: Beef Stew

Maggie’s house is the most Irish place in the world.

I’m not saying that like she is the most Irish person in the world—there are people with like, stronger accents or whatever—but her house? The house itself is fundamentally Irish. You walk in, and it’s like stepping into a distilled essence of Ireland that’s been lovingly applied to every single available surface. Wood-paneled walls? Check. Celtic knots on like, everything? Check. A picture of JFK in the dining room like he’s a long-lost uncle? Also, unfortunately, check.

The living room smells like beef stew and generational trauma, and the second you step inside, somebody’s dad is yelling at the TV. It’s not her dad—he’s at work—it’s her uncle. Maggie has an unreasonable number of uncles. There are always one to three uncles present in this house, like a rotating stock.

Today, Uncle Brian is the one on duty, which means we get a squint from the couch and a barely-audible “girls” in acknowledgment before he goes back to being furious about a Sixers game from five years ago that they’re replaying on ESPN Classic.

“Hey, Brian,” Maggie calls, already halfway up the stairs. “Don’t get up.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” he replies, eyes glued to the screen.

Amelia lingers in the doorway for half a second too long, like she’s trying to process the energy of this house. This is her first time at Maggie’s, and she’s looking at everything like she’s collecting evidence. She barely even nods at Brian, which is a mistake, because now he’s squinting at her harder.

“Who’s this?”

“That’s Amelia,” I say, dragging Amelia inside before she dies on the threshold like a vampire. “She’s with me.”

Brian grunts and goes back to the game.

Amelia, wisely, chooses not to engage further.

Read More Chum under the Read More!

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at this point the comments on ai images trying to warn everyone the image is ai are part of the humor of the post to me

like this

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hollow girl

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masked huntress

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pumpkin girl

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a modern sort of woman

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a delicate asymmetry

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gun girl

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Dean "Rush Order" Carver. Illegal superdrugs delivered in 30 minutes or less or it's free.

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muzzled

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ballerina