#it's more of a general

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

the average nutritional value of road salt and the inside of a 9 millimeter casing

i have a secret

i have a secret and i’ve never managed to look my father in the eye while admitting it

and i’d rather spit in your face than tell it to you in confidence

the kind of secret you drag bodily into your grave and hope your stomach buries before the dirt gets that far

i have a secret i’d rather die than tell you and you’re about to figure it out

two and two make four, you can do this slugger

and there is glass in my fingers and slush warming itself on my ankles

and you're staring me down with shaking fingers

and between the two of us i’m pretty sure you’d vomit first if i smiled with my whole mouth

and you’re still just fucking standing there with my life in your hands like it was hard to grab

(i’m wondering idly if there’s enough money in my wallet to palm to you)

(enough to ask you to pull the trigger wavering between my right eye and collarbone)

(the odds of it hitting somewhere solid enough to kill me fast)

(the potential energy of a prayer so i can die, godless but quickly)

(god let me die quickly. god please turn the knife from somewhere i won’t see it coming)

there are spots in my memory like cheap film reel and there’s blood on the ground between us

and i can’t remember whose it is

there’s a copper smell in my mouth and ringing in my ears and i think that might be real

but there’s this look on your face like i bit your mother, or maybe just you

and there’s blood all over the fucking place 

and despite who’s holding the gun i don’t think it’s mine

streetlights are creeping down the alleyway like overbearing parents and they’re glinting roughly off every surface they can reach

yellow-white fuzz growing off windows and chainlink fences and a tire well

i can see the back half of a car around your wobbling knees

some old tanker halfway up the sidewalk and throughly in the mouth of the alleyway

i think i'm blacking out and i am so fucking scared i am about to miss my own death and

(i can’t stop staring at the grey-green car)

(paint glittering like soft chalk, somewhere between colors and my legs twinge underneath me)

(cramped and clawing and aching softly, the body willing the spirit to stir, to rise)

(to cross pavement like a dead man, to stumble, upwards and over)

(to rap a line of knuckles against the window, to see if it would break, if anyone is still sitting inside)

(if anyone is about to hear a murder from all the distance of two-hundred feet and a corner office)

(i can’t pull my gaze away, even as the muzzle flashes with the streetlamp mold)

(black then grey than white-gold and gone, sunk into the sea of dark static that surges when i turn my head that far)

(i haven’t been able to see out of my right eye for a couple of minutes now)

it’s not snowing

it’s not snowing anymore

i don’t know why it matters

why relief lives in a clear, starless sky waving down at a blood-smeared alleyway

where my knees hurt and my teeth hurt and i am not in any pain that is going to mean anything

i don’t know how much of me is mixed in with the grime and the slush and the gravel and i’m starting to suspect it doesn’t matter

because i’m pretty sure i’m gonna die here regardless

because it’s skin to cold to nothing, because i cannot feel my mouth 

enough of my throat left to know i am not speaking aloud

enough of me left to shiver and ache and watch you from somewhere on the ground

even as the wind tugs hair loose from the smear of blood spilling into your eyes

as mine sting and blister under the care of spilt ends and a breeze made of glass

and i’m starting to think the glass isn’t real

(It’s shredding my mouth and melting in my throat)

(cool and thin and lukewarm while it pools in my stomach)

(a faint whistle from the mouth of the alleyway, deadened in this brick maw of service doors)

(i am half dead and slack jawed and overwhelmingly grateful)

(because from this angle i can slide my gaze far enough over to meet yours)

and i much prefer the version of this encounter

where you are gifted the view of my death

and not just the view of you killing me

[unforth]

Y'all I know that when so-called AI generates ridiculous results it's hilarious and I find it as funny as the next guy but I NEED y'all to remember that every single time an AI answer is generated it uses 5x as much energy as a conventional websearch and burns through 10 ml of water. FOR EVERY ANSWER. Each big llm is equal to 300,000 kiligrams of carbon dioxide emissions.

LLMs are killing the environment, and when we generate answers for the lolz we're still contributing to it.

Stop using it. Stop using it for a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. We need to kill it.

Sources:

[leo-artista]

Incorrect quotes ft. Stan twins

[littlemut]

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Dunno how to put it properly into words but lately I find myself thinking more about that particular innocence of fairy tales, for lack of better word. Where a traveller in the middle of a field comes across an old woman with a scythe who is very clearly Death, but he treats her as any other auntie from the village. Or meeting a strange green-skinned man by the lake and sharing your loaf of bread with him when he asks because even though he's clearly not human, your mother's last words before you left home were to be kind to everyone. Where the old man in the forest rewards you for your help with nothing but a dove feather, and when you accept even such a seemingly useless reward with gratitude, on your way home you learn that it's turned to solid gold. Where supernatural beings never harm a person directly and every action against humans is a test of character, and every supernatural punishment is the result of a person bringing on their own demise through their own actions they could have avoided had they changed their ways. Where the hero wins for no other reason than that they were a good person. I don't have the braincells to describe this better right now but I wish modern fairy tales did this more instead of trying to be fantasy action movies.

[milesofstars]

dont worry about it jason...

[mroddmod]

everyone be quiet i'm manifesting

[mamawasatesttube]

BTW... PSA.... even if we arent mutuals if youre in my notes regularly theres a Very high chance i am still fond of you. yes im vaguing someones tags on the compliment the person u rbed this from post. but like. positive vaguing? THE POINT IS im weird abt following ppl but IM STILL SENDING U FOND VIBES...

[spitblaze]

I guess Chilchuck has brought us right back to 'adults who are short are child-coded and if you like them you're a pedophile' discourse huh

[taliabhattwrites]

[wetsocksinbed]

Baldurs Gate 3 is so wild when you realise how vastly different the game is depending on if you choose Tav or Dark Urge

Dark Urge Playthrough: you’re the child of Bhaal, but unlike the Bhaalspawn, you are created solely by Bhaal himself. The first true child of Bhaal. The daughter of one of your father’s previous Bhaalspawn turns on you, attacks you and tries to kill you. In your dying state, she infects you with a parasite so that you’ll die an incredibly humiliating death, and become her slave.

By some miracle you end up on the same nautiloud ship as a Sharron Cleric who happens to to be carrying a gith artefact that contains Baldur himself. Baldur, who was made a mind flayer and is now calling himself the Emperor, realises there’s an incredibly powerful Bhaalspawn on the ship, and that he can use them to his advantage. The power you have will help him destroy Gortash. Of course he picks you, it makes so much sense.

On your way to Baldurs Gate you find out through an unsent letter that you used to be into Gortash. When you get to Baldurs Gate, the man you used to fuck turns out to be an absolute loser and with horror you realise he is still into you. It’s okay though, he’s very easy to kill.

You end up facing off against Orin, your niece, and kill her. Your father appears to you and offers you the chance to become his Slayer. On the high chance you turn him down, he murders you in front of your loved ones, and leaves you to rot.

Then Jergal, the actual Lord of the End of Everything, the original God of Death, who was the very being that turned you father into a God all that time ago, who’s been in your camp for weeks pretending to be this undead scribe called Withers, appears next to your corpse and brings you back to life, basically adopts you, states that he will protect you from Bhaal, and announces that as long as he lives, you will never die. You’re essentially immortal.

Tav Playthrough: you’re a random nobody that was unlucky enough to get kidnapped by Mind Flayers. The Emperor must pick one of the many idiots on the ship to be his pawn. He sees Tav and thinks “ugh, yeah this one will do”.

[cozylittleartblog]

"content creator" is a corporate word.

we are artists.

[stil-lindigo]

SPREADSHEET OF PALESTINIAN ESCAPE FUNDS‼️TIME SENSITIVE

Operation Olive Branch is a continuously updating spreadsheet of Palestinian escape funds where progress towards their goals is being tracked. As of right now, there are over 100 funds listed there.

Any amount of money can make a difference. With their recent decision to bomb Rafah, the only remaining “safe” territory in Gaza, Israel has forced Palestinians into a corner by giving them nowhere else to go. The international community has given Israel the ability to act with impunity - it is long past the point in time to rely on those in power to hold Israel to any standard of compassion.

Today, I want you to look at this document, choose a fund, contribute to it, and share it. The people in Rafah are living on borrowed time. Free Palestine.

[theangelcatalogue]

Making a chain cause why not!? Hdisiwisjs

Put your name/nickname in the Character Headcanon Generator and see what you get!

Link!

Erm...so-

@starsinthenigth @mxnaceo @duckp0t + Anyone who wants to do it! (No pressure)

[jq37]

You gotta hand it to Fig. All of the Bad Kids were given foils this season and they got to decide how much they wanted to engage with that part of the plot. Gorgug only interacted with Mary Ann in passing despite them both being on the Owlbears. Fabian noped out of chatting up Ivy once she crossed a line with Mazey. Riz was so busy that he truly had no time to engage with Kipperlilly even though she's obsessed with him. Kristen interacted a bit with Buddy but spent way more time verbally sparring with Kipperlilly. And Adaine was somewhat interested in Oisin but never overtly acted on it.

But Fig?

She's in Ruben's WALLS. She's in his DREAMS. She's faking her alter emo's death. She's got the Fantasy FBI after her. She's SO SO tiny. No one is doing it like Fig's doing it.