#i guess so man

[shhuuga]

im high as hell watchin the squid play games

Im. Im high as gell askin the squid to play games

Im high as hell in hete im high as hell in this bitch

You guys. Im high as hell watchin the squid play games

[gongyussy]

make men slutty again.

HEAT STROKE | GQ CHINA Photographer: Wintam; Editor & Image: Shawn Gao Ding; Makeup: Lucas; Hair: Tao Liu; Art: Grade 2 & Lei Min; Art Assistant: Jiang Mi; Models: Kim; Ye Hao, Yu Hang, Ho Jun; Fashion Assistant: Yiyi, Coco; Photography Assistant: Li Zhenxi; Song Luanyi

bonus as rightfully added by @polyabathtub:

[cryptocism]

"just as I did, in 1983."

you'd never know my favourite parts of the show are the fucked up insane bits when my first instinct is to draw the cheesiest thing imaginable

[tubbytarchia]

Anyway *creatures your Grian*

I can never decide on one bird coloration for Grian so I did three. Height comparison next to freaky Jimmy for fun

Jimmy and Grian as siblings in this context would be very amusing

[rapidhighway]

the thing that caused me so much grief last night but now i feel better about it fdnghgdfggd

[milkywayes]

dead man walking

[ -> prints 💙 ]

[homkamiro]

Lil Pootis but I was inspired by a really old USSR film "Wolf and Calf" which made me really emotional

[inkskinned]

she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

[bitter-limelight]

I am begging everyone on any side of any bit of bullshit discourse to realize the fact that *transitioning does not equal passing.* These are not synonyms. Trans men do not have this magical trans power some of you seem to think we do where testosterone makes us look like men. Even a high dose. Even after years and *years* of transitioning. Even after top surgery and the right hair cut and a deeper voice and legal document change and care in how you move and speak and only wearing men's clothes and only being around people who never knew you Before,

Some of us don't pass. I'm so exhausted hearing this bullshit from 15-20 year olds about how all a boy has to do is put on a hoodie and he passes as a man or hearing that we can't understand how it is to be treated as a woman "after we transition." Like I WISH I lived in this fantasy world you live in where choosing to transition means passing and the ability to be stealth. Please tell that to the men who throw a fit seeing my skinny titless facial hair having ass in the men's room multiple times a week.

[egophiliac]

we were fucking ROBBED

[satsuha]

everything will be fine

[puddleorganism]

Jimmy: I am NOT SMALL!!! NOBODY MENTION IT NOBODY TOUCH ME LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

Scar: You’re so small!! (affectionate)

Jimmy:

[lapdogchase]

if you ever think "why bother posting my spotify wrapped/apple music replay nobody really cares anyway" think of ME. I CARE. i love that shit i love seeing what music people like and how many minutes they listened to music etc. PLEASE post them i love it i love ittttt it's like a holiday for me

[micamone]

hewwo

[lilybug-02]

In short- the bugs of Hallownest did not take it well. Lots of screaming about "The end of the world" and "past sins coming back to haunt them". Elderbug almost had his second heart attack and basically every bug, other than the Pale King children and Quirrel, hid for several hours. (Zote likes to claim he was the first to make contact)

As for why Dewi's Dad is in Dirtmouth? Well, he wasn't very happy when his 11 year old son told him about going into a 'mysterious cave' to see his bug friends. Adult supervision and all that.

[raycatzdraws]

Wolfie and Four friendship appreciation doodles! They're shared secrets besties! I hope Four's distrust of the shadow crystal doesn't drive anything between them. Wild found his way into this compilation with a force. It seems I can't draw Wolfie and not include him too!