#Guy walks into a bar

[foursthemagicknumber]

So a guy walks into a bar. He see’s a ‘Mages welcome’ Sign on the window but he decides to ignore it anyway.

He sits down at the bar and he orders a drink. A wizard sits down near him and also orders a drink. The wizard drinks his beer in peace.

The man gets up and shouts at the wizard,”You can’t be a wizard that’s not how science works! What’s next you’ll convince children that their wizards? No I won’t allow it!”

The Bartender says,”Brother it’s a wizard, science doesn’t apply to that. You have to do that stuff with your heart.”

Now replace the word Mage with LGBT+, The word wizard with Trans person, and the word science with logic

[fixxedthebox]

hey hey heyyy long time no post .. !!! i've forgotten how to,, anyways. developed a new hyperfixation but the qotsa one is NOT OVER ! take these qotsa (+ mini mansions) album blinkies i made because i couldn't find any

( last three are kinda laaacking but i got tired ok )

will also be posting the few other ones i made of some different bands' albums !

free 2 use auuagh i'd be so happy to see these used somewhere

[solbaby7]

I love the blurb bar idea and I loved the pina colada one, how about a neat gin n tonic with a salt rim?

[ forced proximity: “you can’t seriously be insinuating that i should sit on your lap.” + smut + az ]

guys i got carried away 🫣🤭 but at least it’s finished and has minimal spelling errors 🤍🩷

-> BLURB BAR <-

To put it quite frankly, you and Azriel didn’t really get along.

It seemed almost easy for everyone else in the Inner Circle to latch onto him; to gravitate towards him and all his shadowy mysteriousness—but not you. Between his victim complex, lack of self-control and the inability to properly communicate his feelings like a normal person, you’d lost your patience for him long ago.

Maybe that’s why you laugh right in Rhysand’s face after he lays down the guidelines for your temporary deployment to the Steppes. Everything sounds perfectly normal up until the end when Rhysand’s lips form the words, “—and you’ll be going with Azriel; he’s already been briefed.”

“Very funny,” Shoulders shake through your laughter, tickled from the joke. “But, you don’t have to go to such lengths just to make me laugh Rhys.”

Your grin fades comically fast and the deep frown that takes it place doesn’t falter long after you’ve left the High Lord’s office and scrounged back to your own chambers to pack. Every move is mechanical, clothes being folded and stuffed away a little rougher than necessary as you try not to think about having to spend seven whole days holed up in a creaky cabin with some brooding bat.

To be fair, Azriel seems no happier than you about the situation, his signature brood securely in place when you meet on the balcony at the witching hour with bag in hand. “Come—let’s get this over with.”

You refrain from commenting on his attitude; hold yourself back from snapping when he snatches your duffle from your grasp just to watch it disappear in a puff of sentient shadow. They’d almost be cute—Azriel’s shadows—if they weren’t so fucking useless. Capable of procuring intel and acting as camouflage but can’t manage to hold two fae long enough to get them to the Illyrian mountains.

No, instead you were subjected to this. Close contact and his fucking hands holding onto your body as he flies on a route you’re unfamiliar with. You eye his wings cautiously, trying to be subtle when you peek over the strong line of his shoulder but being this close? He can feel every beat of your heart against your sternum. Every squirm and twitch of a limb as you try to find a more comfortable place to put your arm. “Will you stop moving?”

“I can’t help it,” Hips shift once more, one leg hitching just a little higher on his hip. “Your fucking daggers keep poking me.”

Azriel tenses up, muscles locking and suddenly you’re being moved how he pleases—both legs wrapped around his waist and a firm forearm clasped around the base of your spine. “Stay.” His voice is rougher than your used to, his blunt nails biting into the sliver of skin exposed to the elements. “Don’t move, we’re almost there.”

That was a lie—it would take hours to make it to the Steppes but the gruff command is surprisingly easy to follow. And while you’ll never verbally admit it, the secure bracketing of his arms around your body was more of a comfort than a nuisance. It’s all too easy to ease into his grasp, allowing sleep to take over until the journeys over and you swear you can feel him cradle you in closer, his nose ghosting over the crown of your head.

He makes absolutely no comment on it when you finally arrive with your hair ruffled, clothes crinkled and the imprint of Azriel’s syphon on your cheek other than a chuffed out, “You snore.”

Instinct screams at you to make some snappy comment back but reason doesn’t allow it to be voiced—not here. Here, you and Azriel would have to appear as a united front, for the males raised in this terrain were bred to sniff out any and all weaknesses to exploit. Only here do you allow the hand that permanently glues itself to the dip of your back, pushing you past rabid animals swollen with pride and snarling with hatred.

Slurs are spat from their lips but Azriel doesn’t pay them any mind, so you don’t either.

He walks through the camps as if he owns them, spine straight and shoulders square. Strong wings stand proudly behind him, shadows guarding your flank until the unforgiving chill is replaced by the stuffy warmth of a mess hall. It’s cramped—a little dirty and smells like a mixture of male and tobacco but either way you’re given a warm meal and fresh water to drink.

The vulgar comments grow more frequent, mutterings of their unwanted appreciation towards your body so sickening that your appetite threatens to scurry away. “They’re disgusting.” You scoff, setting down your tray of food, one hand curled around the chair.

It doesn’t give. Azriel’s boot curled around the leg holds it in place. Arched brows furrow at him, nose scrunching under the effort it takes not to kick him in his shin but there’s something about his body language that make you stop. “They’ll keep doing that shit if they think you’re free game.” Every syllable is clipped; laced with a wildness you’re unfamiliar with—almost as if he’s insinuating that it’s your fault that such brutish males were salivating at the sight of you. Darkness cloaks the hazel tones of his eyes when he meets your own and you nearly miss the gesture he makes.

One hand patting twice at his lap.

“Absolutely not.” Azriel’s boot shoves the seat away completely when you make a move to sit down on it once more. He settles deeper in his own, thick thighs manspreading as deft hands adjust the positioning of his holsters, guiding sharpened weapons away from the area of space he frees up for you. “You can’t seriously be insinuating that I should sit on your lap?”

“I’m not insinuating anything, this is me telling you—sit down.”

You pray he doesn’t see the blush that burns against your cheeks when you take a seat in his lap, his hands resting along the sides of your hips. He keeps eating as if nothing is new. As if he doesn’t realize the way his touch has you squirming against solid muscle through thick leathers, legs subconsciously parting to make more room for the wandering fingers that slide down your thighs, digging into sensitive inner thighs. “What are you doing?” You ask, barely able to grab at the food before you with the way your hands shake.

“I’m sending a message.”

Breath catches when you feel Azriel’s thigh flex between your legs, pressing against your sex in such a way that you’re certain it’s impossible that he hadn’t felt the way you clench in response. “What kind of message?”

“The kind that says someone already owns you.” People are looking, that much you know—can feel their eyes tracking every move. Azriel’s hand splayed over your stomach, his head tucked in the curve of your shoulder as his free hand spies its way through your breeches. There’s a pause, one where you’re time to push him away, to declare that this was entirely too far and smack him clear across his face.

That doesn’t happen. Your legs only part further, making more room for needy fingers to shove past your panties.

It’s a foolish decision, you can feel it the second you make it. As if you’d just unconsciously confirmed the ridiculous notion that you were one of Azriel’s possessions. To do as he pleased. To sit there splayed out across his lap like some puppet and allow him to take the reins and show off all your tricks until you’re boneless and drooling.

He’s too good with his hands. Too slick with the sly filth he mutters into your ear as he fondles at your clit under the table, pressing firm circles into the bundle of nerves until you’re panting like a bitch in heat.

You barely remember how much you hate him when he touches you like this. Until the orgasm fades and your consciousness clears and even though the way you lean into the dip of his neck appears like some typical lovers embrace—bystanders fail to hear the sharp way you sneer, “Tell anyone about this ever and I’ll fucking kill you.”

[eloscore]

PRESSURE YURI BEAM GO 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

THANK YOU @sharkfinn FOR SAYING LIKE ONE THING ABOUT MARINA BEING A VOIDMASS GUY ONCE YOU INSPIRED MY BRAINROT

[blackbird5154]

I've noticed a strange thing about Terzo. In lore, he is a recluse who avoids socialising with his colleagues and hides his personal life from everyone. But at the same time he is ready to confidently look into the eyes of the absolutely unknown girl and put her hand to his heart so that she can feel it beating.

What is wrong with this man? What is going on in his head? Who is he looking for? What is he trying to say?

[jpivblog]

real life shane stardew outfit. he really is just like a random sportsguy you could encounter in any bar

[crustaceousfaggot]

Kinda baffled whenever I see people draw Murtaugh as like... A teenager. That man is 23 years old with the haggard features and haunted demeanor of a 40 year old divorced chainsmoker. At least give him a 5 o'clock shadow or something.

[hnbka]

the duffers put robin, vickie, will and mike in the same scenes. AKA, LESBIAN, SAPPHIC, GAY. LIKE WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK IS GOING TO HAPPEN

[gojoest]

was stopped again on the street (idk i think there’s something in the air 😭 but it’s not love lol), had a lovely but kind of a weird chat ngl, at some point the guy asked me what type of men i am into and i deadass said “fictional” I HAD TO DO IT AHJAHAJAJJA

[rainbyte]

I think they should be FRIENDS!!! They all sit around waiting for someone to pick up the phone

[ratatatastic]

you can tell who were the men who had to sell worlds finest chocolates to raise money for their end of year school trip and who has no idea that north american schools do that because why would you enlist child labour to sell things

[paingoes]

Rubies

Stars

okay back to early recovery period. conceptually this is like the weirdest thing ive ever written for this series youre just gonna have to roll with it.

(Content: past abuse, past captivity, conditioning, blood, bad caretaking, consent issues?, wound care)

It was the dead of night. Delta was not trying to be sneaky. It was just such a habit. He was starting to wonder how he ever functioned at all aboard the Thorn — all his day was spent working, all his night was spent online or drifting around the ship in conspiracy. When did he even sleep? He guessed he’d fainted regularly enough to count it as rest. He guessed he was making up for it now. The ship’s artificial day cycles had ruined his circadian rhythm in a major way. He figured he’d adjust again soon. But right now, he was wide awake. 

He slipped out of the bedroom. He still hated how loud the doorknob was, but it wasn’t such a big deal if he knew nobody was on the other side of it. And there wasn’t. Apollo slept upstairs in his parents’ bedroom. Kitty slept up there too, whenever she stayed the night. The downstairs was empty. He paced it aimlessly, entirely silently. There was so much less space than there had been on the Thorn. He could’ve gotten lost on that ship for hours if he let himself. He missed the familiarity of it, if nothing else.

The front door to the house opened. He jumped back in shock, falling back against the fridge. No one else had come in for as long as he had been there. Nobody had said anything about the possibility. The danger stood there eminently in the opening.

The figure in the doorway was tall and shadowy, wrapped up in a long cloak. Little threads of silver hair peeked out from beneath the hood. Bright, bright silver eyes shone out from its shade. 

Delta sparked involuntarily. He didn’t have the suppress the natural instinct to defend himself anymore — and the new collar was so allowing. It made it so that the powers came out often, often too soon. He still shrank back against the fridge. He’d so rarely had to fight anyone head on; he didn’t want to.

The figure closed the door politely behind them, then slowly approached Delta, moving in a wide arc around him. The sparks became more frequent. They titled their head, then raised their hands in the simple “?” shape.

“Oh,” Delta blushed, the recognition slamming into him, “I’m sorry.”

Lun, their name was. Apollo’s brother. Delta remembered so little about the night of the Centurion, but the memories of the bat had remained. Memories of the axe. Lun, who everyone said did all the real work. Delta hadn’t seen them since leaving the Galatea base. But he’d been living in their house.

“I’m…sorry…” Delta repeated, ashamed of his own reaction. It was awful. 

Maybe they’d been right to restrict his powers the way they did. He remembered how brutally Simon had beaten him when he misfired, the way his teachers had whipped him raw the first time he’d operated without permission. Maybe they had a point? He was so quick to jump to it when there wasn’t anyone restraining him. They all drained out of him now, dampened as his mood dropped. He sank to his knees on the floor.

Lun didn’t move. Delta stole a quick glance at their face, which revealed nothing at all, still half hidden. He hesitated before speaking again, but ultimately forced himself. He bowed his head. It was easier not to look.

“Um,” he winced at how unsteady his voice had become, “Thank you. For the rescue. I didn’t get to say it yet, but I’m…very grateful. To you especially.”

Lun had been the first one Delta had seen — and the only one to actually get inside of the airship. They’d taken on all the risk. They’d physically broken the chain that was binding him to the throne. That night, Lun had been up in those rafters for a long time. Delta wondered faintly what else they might have seen while there.

When he looked up again, Lun was gone. There was no sign they had even been there, no clear direction in which they had left.

Delta remained kneeling on the floor. A very deep instinct told him not to rise without permission. He wondered if Lun had kept him there on purpose. He didn’t know. Apollo and Kitty had been lenient with him, but he wasn’t so presumptuous as to expect that from any of the others. He was beholden to them just as much. He’d do as they asked. 

It would be easier if they did ask, though. What had happened just now was too ambiguous. He rose cautiously and retreated back to his room. If there was a misunderstanding, if he wasn’t allowed to, he would apologize profusely, easily. He would not need to force himself. He meant it. But nothing else happened that night.

=========

“Lun said they saw you last night?” Apollo asked casually as he made breakfast.

Delta lingered nervously in the doorway, half-hidden by the wall. He wasn’t domesticated, not comfortable enough to eat in front of people. He usually retreated to his room to do it. Apollo glanced up at him in the ensuing silence — he knew he was checking to see if he was still there.

Delta returned a small nod. He’d almost forgotten about it, or chalked it up to some strange dream. Lun still hadn’t reappeared. Delta glanced briefly to the space where they had stood.

“They’re asleep in the attic. Cold-blooded, y’know. They like the heat.” Apollo smiled faintly. There was such clear affection in his voice when he spoke about his younger brother. 

Delta cringed, remembering how close he had gotten to hurting them. He wondered if Lun had said anything about that. It seemed like not. 

“I hope they didn’t scare you. I would’ve told you if I’d known they were coming. That must have been very surprising if you weren’t expecting it.” Apollo offered the fruit bowl to him. Delta emerged from the wall enough to take it, then took a few steps back into the hiding place.

“Thank you,” Delta whispered, “Can I…”

“Yeah, you can go.” Apollo waved his hand. Delta slipped out of sight.

=========

He felt the same sleeplessness the same night.   There were stars against the back of his eyes. He didn’t know how it was possible to feel homesickness; he couldn’t have possibly imagined. Not that he’d ever seriously entertained the possibility of escape until days before it actually happened. He had expected to be killed upon release; he still did not know if that was off the table, whether Levon was just keeping him on ice. The thought kept him up. 

He sat up slowly. There was faint light coming from beneath the door; the soft kitchen lights were always on. He liked that about the new house. It reminded him there was a world outside of his room. He rose up from the bed, crossing the threshold silently. He cracked the door open. 

There was movement behind it. He froze, immediately. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be up. He peered faintly through the gap.

Kitty was sitting cross-legged on the couch, hair half covering her face. A shadow hovered beside her, one hand on her chest, the other resting on the nape of her neck. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. A faint stream of blood trickled down onto her clavicle. 

Delta jumped as her gaze suddenly fell upon him. He quickly shut the door, too loudly. Fuck. Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to leave his room. He wasn’t supposed to see. He backed up into the bed, nearly tripping on it.

“Delta?” Kitty called faintly from behind the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were up. You can come out. It’s okay.”

He clicked his nails anxiously together, still too scared to move. 

“Babe?” She called again. 

He cracked the door open again. She was sitting upright on the couch. Her eyes were soft with concern. She beckoned him. Behind her, Lun stared. Their mouth was stained red. 

Delta cautiously emerged, mostly against his wishes. He wasn’t yet at a point where he’d be comfortable ignoring orders, especially not with her. He stood in the empty space between his bedroom and the living room. The trained tension was visible in his body. Forced attention. He lowered his eyes respectfully.

“You met Lun, right?” Kitty asked. “They’re friendly. They were just feeding. We weren’t…doing anything.”

He glanced up to see Lun waving shyly from behind her. They wiped at their mouth self-consciously. Kitty dabbed a towel at her neck, removing most of the blood. 

“Do you wanna sit?” She offered, endlessly patient. Again, he found it very hard to deny her. He sat down on the floor besides the coffee table. Kitty pulled the towel from her neck, attempting casualness.

“Can’t sleep?” She asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you a nocturnal species? We both are, naturally. But we’re usually on Galatea’s schedule now.” 

She tilted her head to Lun when she said it. Delta bit his lip. He didn’t even know what species he was — even if he did, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t working on any set planetary schedule. He was on spaceship time.

“…I was in deep space, miss,” he told her as much. 

“Oh! Spaceship time!” She looked kind of excited at the prospect, then immediately concerned. “Wait, how long?”

“…Year and a half?” Delta estimated. He hadn’t been keeping a record when it started and there was a lot of fogginess in between. Maybe two years. He wasn’t sure.

“Um. Doesn’t that make your head kinda…” She tapped her own skull. “Fucky?”

Yes. Space madness was a well documented phenomenon. He assumed he’d been spared the worst of it though, already uniquely adapted to living in isolation and under extreme pressure. Truthfully, part of him missed the stars. It was strange to be earthbound again. 

He nodded, though. His head was fucky, undoubtably. Kitty was frowning at him.

“You haven’t left the house at all since you got here,” she noticed. “You wanna come out in the garden?”

She opened up the back door to the house, leading him out past the porch and onto the grass. It was a cool night. She slid her jacket off, wrapping it around his shoulders. He noticed there was still a bit of blood on the hood. 

Lun drifted in front of them among the flowers. Their silver hair almost glowed in the dark. It was their garden, apparently. Even thought they’d been away, the plants still bloomed with the seasons. 

Delta knelt down on the grass. Kitty plopped down beside him, laying flat on her back. The stars were bright — not as bright as they had been up close, but bright none the less. He identified the constellations, finally able to pinpoint with some certainty where they were in the galaxy. Mostly, he was just glad to see them again. The night wind coursed gently through his hair and against his skin.

He jumped as Lun appeared at his side. They’d been in his blind spot. Lun was shorter than Apollo, which was still tall. Delta was still kneeling. It put him into a bad headspace.

Lun pulled their arm out from within their cloak, revealing a handful of pale white flowers. They extended it out to Delta. He blinked in confusion. They extended it out a little more.

“Oh.” Delta blushed, caught off-guard by the abrupt sweetness. “…Thank you.”

Lun nodded, drifting back among the foliage. Kitty was grinning widely. Delta traced the flower petals with his finger, deep in thought. 

=======

Kitty had disappeared for the day, going off to visit Iza before the pilot was sent away. Apollo had to run out to restock on supplies. It was the first time Delta had been left alone in the house. He idled in the living room. It was very hard to resist the impulse to clean without either of them calling him away from it. He did it almost mindlessly; it had become such a habit. He didn’t want to feel useless.

The air shifted a little. Delta jumped as Lun appeared at the base of the stairs. All dressed in black, they stood out uncannily against the warm colors of the room. He’d never seen them out during the day. All the curtains were drawn.

Delta backed up a bit, still nervous. Lun stared curiously with their head cocked to the side. They looked around, visibly surprised at how empty the space was. Their gaze turned back onto Delta. They raised their hand to the side of their head and folded the fingers down. Nyah. 

“Um. She went out.“ It was immensely strange for Delta to be the one speaking most in any exchange. Lun was exceptionally quiet. If Delta hadn’t heard them speak briefly on the airship, he would have assumed they were fully mute.

They looked disappointed. The hand slid down to their neck, clutching it. It seemed like such a protective gesture, like they were embarrassed by the need. Delta’s brow furrowed.

“…Do you…need to feed…?” So strange. The voice in his head reprimanded him, demanding he not speak unless spoken to, but he found that demand less appropriate now. Lun nodded shyly.

He still wanted to be helpful. He knew that he owed Lun everything. And he was more than a little intrigued by the way Kitty had looked so dazed upon the couch when he’d first glimpsed them. He was curious. 

“…I can do it,” Delta offered. Lun raised an eyebrow, but he thought he could read hopefulness into their expression.

Taking initiative he didn’t know he had, Delta knelt down in front of the couch. Lun followed silently and cautiously. There wasn’t any eagerness in their body language — all hesitation. It was strange to see it on someone else. Delta tilted his head to the side, brushing his long hair away from his neck. He looked at Lun through the side of his eyes. They sat down on the couch.

Delta still flinched when Lun’s hand came by the side of his head, trying to hold him still. The other pressed down against his shoulder. The collar was thin enough that most of his neck remained bare. Lun tapped a nail nervously against Delta’s cheek, seemingly involuntarily. They opened their mouth.

Delta only felt a second of regret as the fangs revealed themself. The anticipation was always the worst of it. As they sank in, pain replaced the fear. He could handle pain. He sat still and silent, well accustomed to taking it without complaint. 

Blood usually left his body through his mouth, his nose, sometimes his eyes if it was a bad day. The sudden rapture from his neck was a new experience. It was colder, somehow. He felt dizzy.

The front door opened up. Lun pulled back immediately, painfully. More blood came out. Delta reeled. Caught. Totally caught. He felt ashamed before he even registered the reaction. He knew, intuitively, that he had done something wrong. He’d known it when he offered.

“What - I just - I leave for five minutes and you-?“ Apollo sputtered. He dropped the bags onto the floor, moving rapidly to the center of the room. “What are you doing?”

Delta flinched, lowering his head. It was the first time he had ever heard Apollo angry. Blood dripped from his neck snd onto the carpet as he moved into a bow. Sorry. Sorry. The words didn’t make it past his lips.

Apollo seemed to not register it. All his attention had turned to Lun. When he spoke again, it was quieter, but holding the same amount of heat. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He said. 

Delta stayed frozen in place as Lun rose up off the couch, following their brother into the other room. 

=========

“Why. Why would you ever-“ Apollo couldn’t even finish the sentence. “He doesn’t know how to say no to people. You can’t ask him for something like that.”

Lun hovered at Apollo’s side. Their eyes were wide, but the pupils were dilated all the way in the daylight.

“I didn’t ask.” Their voice was haunting singsong. “He offered.”

“He offered?” Apollo looked at them in disbelief. They nodded.

“That doesn’t mean you do it. He said I could hurt him too. That doesn’t mean I did it. Lun-“ He took a deep breath. “He thinks he deserves it. You understand that, right? You’ve seen the way he acts. He can’t make that kind of informed decision.”

“He offered,” Lun insisted.

“He’s injured. He doesn’t even have the blood to spare. You know I’m right.” Apollo shot back. Lun wrapped their cloak tighter around themself.

“You don’t need to yell.” They said softly. Apollo paused for a second, regaining his cool. He shook his head.

“Sorry. Shit. He’s probably-“ Apollo hurried back into the living room.

=========

“Hey.” Apollo bent down besides Delta, who hadn’t moved at all since they departed. He cupped his face in his hands gently. “Hey. I’m not mad at you, okay? I’m sorry for yelling. You’re okay. I wasn’t mad at you. You’re not in trouble.”

Delta leaned into the touch, visibly miserable. Apollo felt a sharp pang of guilt. He’d obviously scared him pretty bad. 

“I’ll patch you up, okay?” Apollo offered, eyeing the wound on his neck. Lun’s marks were typically very clean, but they could still get infected. Besides, blood was still leaking out of the punctures. He helped Delta to stand and led him into the kitchen, sitting him up on one of the stools. He pulled a pair of surgical gloves from his pocket — he always carried them, just in case.

Delta tilted his head to the side again, letting Apollo clean the site of the wound. Some of it had already gotten onto his shirt — he made a note to get him new clothes soon, anyway. He was still borrowing all of theirs. 

“Hold it here,” Apollo placed the towel against his neck. 

“Yes, sir.” Delta applied pressure where he’d been asked. Apollo winced.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. Lun isn’t starving. They would’ve been fine. Move the towel, please.” He rubbed the disinfectant over the wound. It was cold. Delta shivered.

“I wanted to,” He said weakly.

“You’re still healing, Delta.” He knew he was lecturing, but he couldn’t help it. “You don’t need any more pain right now. Don’t volunteer for it. Not while you’re like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Delta repeated. 

Apollo applied the bandage over the bite mark, smoothing it out carefully against the skin. Delta righted his head, letting his hair cover it back up. Apollo moved to the bags he’d left by the door. He retrieved a pack of juice boxes from inside; he’d gotten them specifically because Lun had come by. He passed one to Delta, hoping to reduce some of the dizziness. 

But he was surprised by how lucid Delta appeared. He’d calmed down significantly after Apollo had said he wasn’t mad. He didn’t seem to be under any particular duress. 

Lun returned from the other room, skulking a little. They pulled up a stool on the opposite end, taking one of the juice boxes for themself. Delta studied the granite of the counter quietly.  Not speaking, but not afraid either. 

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[not-a-workin-boy]

SPGTOBER DAY 11⁉️⁉️

faring in the ocean AU where everything’s the same but spine sounds slightly scared of everything

ough bit lower quality today sorry chat - almost forgot 😔 HOWEVER i did get the steamworld heist games! both of em! and i suck ass at it lmao

[mukuharakazui]

you'll forever be a cringey immature straight girl no matter if you call yourself a he or a xim or a identify as a table leg, no matter how many bone-eroding cross-sex hormones you take or whether you amputate or boobs or not. biologicallly you will always be a female heterosexual since that's what you were born as. neuroscience proves that heteros aka opposite-sex attracted people have distinct brain phenotypes from gay people, regardless of if they identify as trans or not. heterosexual aka male-attracted 'transmen' have the same brain chemistry as any normie het woman, proving both that sexuality is only determined by sex and that transness isn't innate the way homosexuality is. you can larp as whatever, call neuroscience and basic knowledge on sexuality 'stinky doo doo opinions' like a petulant child who just realized santa isn't real. the only thing you're doing is embarrassing yourselves in front of anyone with the slightest cerebral functionality because you're mad we're calling out your gay-fetishizing homophobic anti-scientific bs for what it is unlike the tras who pretend to see you as 'gay' 'men' because they feel sorry for your mentally ill ass and your internalized misogyny. sure you het women will never be in an equal relationship with a male because straight men see you as throwaway sex toys and free domestic servants but this isn't an excuse for you to fetishize gay men and pretend to be them, certainly not an excuse to expect them to go along with the charade and put up with you het weirdos preying on them. het males aren't dumb when it comes to manipulating women for easy p*ssy which is why they're already on grindr with your het ass, pretending to be QWeEr and non-binary to get that mentally ill gullible cooch. no actual gay male will look at you and have any other emotion aside from anger and pitiful laughter. even if you 'pass' completely, they'll be disgusted after learning you have female genitalia and lose any attraction they may have had because het sex is abnormal and undesirable to gay people, not falling for and not wanting to fuck the opposite sex is the literal essence of our sexuality which you are diametrically opposed to. you'll just rub your nub away to yaoi like any other fujo who is either an ugly woman or understandably disillusioned with men but the only outcome is that you'll be a bitter p0rn sick lonely coomer just like those crusty basement-dwelling straight men who can't get laid. the worst part is that nearly any het woman like yoy can get laid, that's no achievement, het men will even pretend to be bi or gay to use you as a fleshlight but no gay male will ever want your musty homophobic vag, they want none at all and deep down you know it. that you'll never be loved and wanted by a gay man, that you'll never be seen as gay or male by anyone. you'll never know the ultimate compatibility and sublime equality that only exists in same-sex love. and now that you've ruined your straight woman privilege, only the most abusive and weird straight men will go after you, whose only purpose is to take advantage of you. what a sad existence, foaming at the mouth at gay people for standing up for ourselves when you fake progressive breeders try to brainwash your fellow homophobes into your heteronormative bioessentialist homophobia, insisting gay people could be bisexually attracted as long as you wear 'boy clothes' and cut your hair off. congrats on alienating the very people you pretend to be, most of us were 'trans allies' just a few years ago before you went full crackhead and started pretending sexuality is based on a made-up gender not biological sex. enjoy withering away in your early menopause knowing no gay person will ever love or desire you, knowing you'll never be us and should be grateful since you couldn’t stand a day of real oppression. choke on as much d*ck as you'd like, it only proves what a wanton female hetero you are and that straight males would stick their d*ck in anyone female

Why are you so desperately obsessed with transgender people that you would spend the time typing this out and sending it to me, a cisgender man, over Tumblr

[triglycercule]

guys wtf i've been possessed because wdym i'm posting art AGAIN. horrortale doodles this time because i'm in a horror mood :3 ermm aliza jumpscare on 3rd photo

4th image is horror (if i cracked his back it would sound like a pop tube fidget toy)

[andy-clutterbuck]