#lets be ignorant and try our best

[jas-the-shrimp]

I'm not even trying in school work bro

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bestie Deficiency

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bleaksqueak]

I haven't been online most all day, and now I log in to see AI generated junk on the promotion radar. Ew.

[strawberryscorp]

albus comes home after having a bad day and collapses into scorpius's arms

scorpius could be doing anything but he'd pause and play with albus's hair while letting him rant about his day

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

so i googled my current favourite play that i'm absolutely obsessed with and ended up on the english wikipedia site bc my browser is set to english and. it's so bad. the fucking plot overview leaves out basically everything that happens ever except for the end result. several key figures aren't even mentioned. "this guy dies for freedom" well, yes, but actually no, plus you're implying his sacrifice is actually worth it. that's not true. in some other section a dude is mentioned who claims this play is basically star wars. that someone familiar with the play but not star wars could look at a star wars poster and tell you which characters are narratively similar/equal to characters of the play. i am baffled. i have never, not once in my life, ever seen someone be so wrong. dude must have read an entirely different play. i'm tempted to dig up the english version and read it just to see how fucking wrong he is. he is *so* incredibly wrong. jesus fuck. how could you possibly say that

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[whenitgrowsbright]

whats worse than having only like 1-5 friends?

having only that many friends and you talk to only 1 more than once every two months!

[chesacakeripper]

Still thinking about the interaction I had over the weekend (where there was genuine right wing unrest in my city waheyy) where I popped a message onto my colleagues-but-we're-friends-we-go-for-drinks-and-dinner-sonetimes chat to make sure ppl were staying safe (many of us are of various minority groups) and I get a bit salty about how the police were mostly being shit and harassing the counter-protestors and one person pipes up with 'I don't subscribe to the acab thing sorry 😂' after talking about how many police were injured in other unrest and like.

I had to fully disengage myself because I work with and am friendly with these folks but sometimes you get smacked in the head with an opinion and suddenly lose the trust and respect you'd been building for someone over the last year huh

[antibayern]

67% watched football for the first time two days ago

[steviescrystals]

i’m fr gonna lose my mind :)

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[fingertipsmp3]

I will never have friends like the friends I had in secondary school ever again. And in some ways this is a good thing

[seekingthestars]

if you celebrate, i hope you had a good holiday!! i hope everyone's having a good last-week-of-2022!! i, for one, am being as lazy as possible and playing lots of video games instead of doing any of the things on my to-do list

[zoophagist]

The guest presses a fingernail to the vein on his throat, but does nothing to open it. He simply taps against it, a clear rhythm of two-one-two-three. His lips move, as if casting a spell, but he doesn't actually voice what he thinks: Water, may it be just water, may it do nothing to quench his thirst, nothing at all. "Sure, sure. Take your fill. Your teeth and nails are strong enough, right?" he says and smiles slyly.

He does not even answer; instantly Renfield's mouth is at the guest's neck. The savagery of teeth biting down into skin is thrilling, uncomplicated by any scruples as he twists and tears to make up for their bluntness. In the release of this beastly hunger there is even a quieting of his guilt, his embarrassment. To bite down and make the flesh part feels so very good.

Lips and tongue work over the broken skin eagerly to suck up the thick, red stream of LIFE coursing through the veins of such a powerful being — life that can be his, can be Renfield's. How wonderful it is to be rewarded, how excellent to take—

Water? The first pull slides over his tongue and down his throat and it tastes of nothing but clear, bland water. He falters, and the instant of stillness cannot but make his confusion obvious to the body under his mouth and hands. But surely this can't be... So he drinks and drinks, more and more heavily, waiting for the spark, the metallic tang of blood to slake his thirst, and he clutches more forcefully at the man, and he bites again, and again, and again, desperate, dizzy, starving. It is a frenzy, far beyond what the guest's offer could be understood to justify, but still his jaw works and his teeth sink and all there is in this gore is water!

Renfield makes an animal noise of frustration, and he thinks to himself, 'This is a trick. I have been lied to again and it is a damned trick!' Are they all so cruel, he had wondered only moments ago, and now the answer is clear as flowing water: yes. All cruel, all selfish, all temptations and takings and never justice. This useless, inert water may do nothing to warm his weakened, blood-starved body, but his fury does.

And that is when he begins to CHEW. "Liar!" He growls as he makes his teeth meet in the guest's neck and he starts to pull.

[haunted-house-heart]

living with someone with untreated mental illness is like. i understand why you're like this and i do empathize but also like. jesus fucking christ get some help before i throttle you i stg

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.