#also this is technically

[pickled-flowers]

Meet cute at the trans rave

[funky-fox-fics]

Prompt: Nether

"These guys are just bastards," Skizz mutters, punching another fireball back to the Ghast it'd shot from.

The Ghast wails as it dies, something that still shakes him, even though, well, they've killed a lot of Ghasts at this point. The tear, cold and hard enough to survive the fiery air of the Nether, is quickly burnt to a crisp by the lava it falls into. Not that they have much use for these tears anyway.

"Don't you mean Ghast-ards?" Impulse blurts, the pun coming to him in a moment of--hah, impulse.

Skizz laughs, sharp and loud and long in the playerless air of the Nether. Cuts through all the piglin snorts, and all the bubbling lava, and the rest of it--distantly calling Ghasts, distantly crackling fire. His laugh is loud and long and beautiful and Impulse never wants to go a day without hearing it.

"Ghast-ards," Skizz repeats, voice soft in the way someone who'd just laughed is. "Yeah, no, that's what they're called now. Stupid Ghastards!" He waves his sword at the lava lakes, where doubtless another Ghast has spawned by now, and Impulse can't help the laughter that escapes him as well.

"That was a really bad pun," Impulse mutters, still chuckling a little, as they head into the rest of the burning, furious Nether.

"But I liked it, and that's all that matters," Skizz says.

Impulse laughs a little, allows himself to indulge in the beauty of a bad pun. They're alone in this world, anyway, and if Skizz is laughing, why shouldn't he as well?

[redstonedust]

i'm not "undiagnosed" i'm largely headcanoned as neurodivergent but with no confirmation in canon. i hear a showrunner said something at a panel last year but it hasnt been leaked on youtube yet.

[daiseranged]

Bipedal Fishbowl

There is a limit to how far we may walk in a lifetime. A maximum number of steps we may take, ordained by the genetics of our body, the food and water available to us, the predictable randomness of disease.

This is true of all living things.

A goldfish in the small, confined fishbowl, whale sharks in an aquarium’s central tank, a beaver and its trees.

Humans in winter.

We are confined, sometimes by necessity, or choice, or the belief we have a choice. But all confinements pale in comparison to the confinement of death.

It will all end, at some point. We will walk the last steps, travel the last distances that our lives allow.

And yet, the goldfish swims on for another lap. The shark keeps their mouth agape. The beaver gnaws down another tree. We continue working our jobs, selling our labour, buying our goods. We move tirelessly to create more of ourselves, as we press on to the eventual end of everything we have ever known.

Meaning comes from this confinement – because what else can? Mortality begets meaning; without meaning there is no solace in nonexistence.

But does the goldfish assign meaning to its swimming in constant circles? Does the whale shark think of what it looks like in the mirror? Does the beaver feel it is fulfilling a greater purpose by gnawing its one-hundredth tree?

Do we? In our paperwork, our shopping, our unthinking patterns of the modern age?

How it must feel to be free, then… Free of confinement, of the bowl, of the aquarium, of the city – of national and political lines, of laws and jurisdiction, of the boundaries of continents; how exhilarating must it feel to swim in the ocean with a body made for it, free of our foreignness to the sea.

To explore the world as though we were made to.

Nay, to explore the universe as though we were made to. Free of gravitational wells, of bodily degradation, of the needs of food and water; of our vices. Will we ever know the feeling of jumping between planetary bodies, with travel taking thousands of years? Moving in a weightless trajectory, feeling the gravitational fields push and pull as we careen across the universe?

How it must feel to walk without hurry, free of our money and its worship, free of our limits.

Unshackled from ourselves.

…

It doesn’t really matter if it goes first, or we do. I want to see as much as I can before it all winks out.

[kingzombear]

Happy holidays, have some Gummiguy! 🐊

And Cuckatha

[max1461]

Disgust has absolutely no ethical weight. If you are basing your ethical positions on the emotion of disgust you should stop, it is entirely unjustified and leads to a huge amount of harm.

[noodles-and-tea]

Haha whoops

[paintedcrows]

Nooo little Stanley watch out! Your striped shirt, bandage, and sad backstory are too Fallen Human Coded!! The Undertale narrative is going to get you!!!

[fineapple20]

Portraits

Retouched this set from last year, because it was haunting me laying there 80% finished

[artistic-cocoon]

Saw someone on twt say they wanted to see Percy drawn like Yusuf Dikec and I couldn't help myself

[magentasnail]

I'm absolutely obsessed with the book of bill, best thing i've ever read and it no joke gave me actual nightmares !! 100/10

[bixels]

me too, luna.

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one

[val-of-the-north]

His greed sickens me.

[soldierkitten]

Drawing the empires pov's I watched

[buddieinmybeddie]

LGBTQ+ folk what was your gender/sexuality pipeline?