#musings for later

[raayllum]

Been thinking about it as I approach 5x08 in my S5 rewatch but something something "the actual character arcs are wrapped up steadily either prior to or within the finale" spread out across the main cast is brewing

[chipper-smol]

vibes for tonight 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

[timethehobo]

Help he’s just too cute I can’t stop drawing him. 😭💀

[gojinka]

🚧

💫💫 (Ref under the cut) + Salmon Here

[canisalbus]

Ok ok hear me out: it could end in tragedy,, AND have a happy ending. The attempt(s) on Machete’s life force him to flee, he doesn’t even have the chance to find Vasco. Cue gay longing for at least a few years while Machete despairs over the loss of his love, his life, his status. He and Vasco only reunite (again) in their later years. Their relationship is forever flavored with loss and loneliness, but that only means they savor every moment that much more

I also I would like to see them as old men. Vasco would be so droopy :)

You gave me such old dog brainworms.

[dreamdripdistance]

suspension, sacrifice, surrender

[werewolfbarista]

new sona . if u even care..............

[cruel-hiraeth]

you aren’t entirely sure what compels you to do it, but on a sunny saturday morning, you adopt a big, fluffy white cat with golden eyes.

the animal shelter don’t have any information about his previous owners, and can’t even confirm his birthday—though they insist he’s a senior pet. he’s strong and nimble despite his age (and propensity for napping). and his mouth is almost always curved into a smile.

on your drive home with him, you settle on a name: dumpling.

dumpling quickly endears himself to you, as you do to him. he sleeps in bed beside you, greets you when you return from work, and purrs any time you so much as stroke his chin or scratch his head. he’s easy to care for and easy to please, and his presence brings you comfort.

it’s a chilly autumn day when everything changes.

you spend the afternoon at a local park, picking up a few fallen leaves to press at home. when arrive at your apartment, dumpling happily rubs up against your legs. reaching down to pet him, your bag tips over, and the leaves spill out, scattering onto the floor. one leaf lands on dumpling’s head: an aurelian ginkgo leaf, the most pristine you have ever seen. seemingly startled, he bolts away—presumably to your bedroom to hide.

after about half an hour, you begin to worry. dumpling never leaves your side for very long; what could he be doing? you decide to check on him. the door to your bedroom is ajar, so you gently push it open. but what you find has a scream tearing past your lips.

a nude man is resting atop your bed. his long, snow white mane fans outwards on the sheets, and obscures the right side of his face. he stirs at your noisy disturbance, and—as his amber eyes flutter open and focus on you—you feel lightheaded.

a single thought crosses your mind as you slip into unconsciousness: the strange man in your bed uncannily resembles your beloved cat.

[amiracleilluminated]

[cornerstoreclown]

So happy to see you’re back, we missed you!🫶

How about reader cleaning those nasty teeth for him? Given he’d allowed it-😉

Consider it done. Gender neutral reader x Art, trying to brush this man's teeth.

---------------------------

This is the third time he’s shoved you off his lap. For the past five minutes, you’ve been fighting the Miles County Clown with sheer determination, spite, and a toothbrush. Who was winning at this point, you weren’t sure. What started off as a simple ambush when he was sitting on the couch watching your TV became a failed plan within seconds the very instant he caught wind of what you were trying to accomplish. 

There were three truths that could coexist peacefully: 

The first one was that you loved this stupid clown. The second truth was that he was fucking disgusting and often smelled like he came out of the goddamn city sewers, and god have mercy on your soul if you caught a whiff of his breath after he finished eating something–or someone. And the third truth follows on the tails of the second one…

Which is that your standards are absolute dogshit. The bar is in hell! Literally in this case, considering WHO you’re dealing with.

Absolutely no way in hell that anyone else in the entire world would be able to get away with this. No one. They’d get a free lobotomy with how far that toothbrush would be jammed up their nose. You’re actually surprised that he’s not yet gotten up out of his seat, but you did catch him at a time where one of his favorite shows was on. That was all a part of your grand scheme. 

You’re back in his lap again, toothbrush with a little bit of toothpaste still somehow miraculously attached to the bristles.

He moves his head away from you again, like a defiant child, and he’s starting to wear down your patience and piss you off. 

“Art.” You firmly tell him, trying to get this brush near his face, and so far, the closest you’ve gotten is within a few inches of his mouth. You use your free hand to try and tilt his head back to keep him from moving, leaving him to respond in turn with a scowl, baring his teeth in the form of a threat. 

Which was fine for you. 

With enough dexterity, you manage to get a few brushes in on the top row of his teeth, feeling a bit of satisfaction until he elbows you in the face and then pushes your head away so you can’t see.

“Fucker!” You say through grit teeth. “Art, come ON! Let me HELP you!” 

You don’t feel the pain when he hits you in the face. Anger and frustration run deep in your veins now, guided by nothing but pure adrenaline as you’re both locked in battle with each other, pushing at the other. You both look like siblings at this point. That’s about how it fucking felt. 

You fight against him pushing your head away, and catch a glimpse of a horrid sight–

His gums are bleeding.

His teeth are coated in blood. 

You knew that his oral hygiene was bad, but you didn’t know how bad, and it becomes apparent to you that everything was way worse than you thought. 

Then he stuns you, zigging when you were expecting him to zag as he switches it up, grabbing your wrists and staring you right in the face, his snarl twisting into a smile. You don’t get a chance to react.

Well, you sort of did.

“Art–” 

You’re cut off as he presses his lips to yours, forcefully kissing you and sloppily giving you the nastiest fucking makeout ever. His tongue pushes past your mouth and goes in, shamelessly sharing whatever taste he had leftover from the mystery dinner he ate the night before, but not without the sharp taste of iron from his bleeding gums first. You gag, the pungent taste hitting your tongue, leaving you to immediately try to back up off of him, and he helps you further by once again shoving you off, this time flinging you to the floor at the foot of the couch.

The toothbrush, your so-called weapon of the day, has been dropped and rolled away from where you landed flat on your back. 

Art wasn’t having it. The show he had been hoping to watch tonight? Ruined, as he gets up off the couch and leaves you on the ground. He had half a mind to kick you in the side on the way out. 

You’ll just have to try again some other time. Maybe.

[unlimitedbutchworks]

idk it’s not flame for me it’s reaching out i think there’s legit a large significant amount of non transitioning transmascs who would benefit and enjoy going further on their transition like getting affirming clothes or working towards hormones but just procrastinate those steps endlessly out of fear and assuming that it “wouldn’t work” or wouldn’t be worth it, and like Every time i observe this with friends IRL i encourage them gently over time with my other friends and then watch them slowly bloom and look happier than they have in months in like a baggyish hawaiian shirt and jeans instead of their old women’s sized tees or start getting on t and laugh about new changes and inside it just makes me go Fuck guys you can have it if you want it you’re allowed to become and it’s not the end of the world you can take the leap you won’t die it’s easier than you think

[theinternetdemon]

rin & len transparents — muse dash.

✦ free to use (non-commercial), credit not needed but appreciated, just make sure not to claim as yours!

[chipper-smol]

stumbled into a vintage mall and found this pitcher set from 1960

fyi the transgender flag was designed in 1999

honestly kinda neat

[that-butch-archivist]

"Today, I am wearing my hair long and permed into full curls around my face, tying it up in sheer, silken scarves. I often choose to be late for a date rather than go out feeling "unfinished," which some days means a little powder and Chap Stick and other days means a total makeover. I wear long silk shirts and fluffy sweaters when I want, and regard the word pretty as a compliment again. Still, I know I am regarded as a failure and even a traitor by many in this [lesbian] club because I suffer occasional self-recrimination for being a size sixteen instead of a size six, because I enjoy wearing miniskirts and stockings, because I apparently care about and conform to the opinions of the "wrong" people (people in that other world who label us unacceptable or unfit). They say I am selling out, catering to patriarchy, being codependent on my mother and her opinions. Choose your descriptors, choose your chains. Too often, the saleswomen of the so-called freedom are more like the neo-conservatives and fundamentalists of the world, who say, "Do it our way or don't expect any privileges." They are not selling us the right to be who we want to be, they are selling us the right to be what they believe we should want to be. Sometimes, those rights are the same thing. More often, they are not. And when they are not, worlds may collide in a firestorm of indignation, embarrassment, and rage. I want that freedom they sold me. I want the freedom to love women, passionately and overwhelmingly. I want the freedom to love them the way I want, whether I wear a lace dress or jeans, whether I wear press-on nails or no lipstick. I want the freedom to feel sexy at 170 pounds. I want to do aerobics without resorting to stealth maneuvers. And I want the freedom to be who I am, without embarrassment or fear. I want no exceptions, no contingencies, no caveats. And if our community cannot--or will not--grant that freedom, I, and those like me, the rebel-conformists if you will, will take it. We will even steal it if we must. They'll be surprised at how fast we can run in those tight skirts and pumps."

- An excerpt from "Supercolliding over a Twinkie: Angry Musings from a Femme in the Deep South," an essay written by Constance Lynne and found in The Femme Mystique. (Emphasis in bold my own.)

[dailycupofcreativitea]

I get the impression by watching Goku and Gohan's interactions across various DB media that Goku gives Gohan's words and opinions careful consideration, trusts what Gohan says, considers him reliable, and seeks out his knowledge.

[gallaghersgal]

currently wanting to give will lots of little kisses

one of the cutest, most kissable faces ive ever seen. blurb for u!! gen audiences, all fluff and puppy cuddles and kisses for will!

you come back from taking your new puppy out on a walk, finding will on the couch of your apartment. he must've used his key. you smile as teddy bounds over to will on little legs, not quite big enough to hop on the couch yet.

will smiles down at him, scooping teddy off the ground as his tail wags happily. "hey bud!" he remarks, cradling teddy to his chest. the puppy licks your boyfriend's chin, letting out a happy little bark. after a minute he sits teddy back down, and the little pup trots off toward his water bowl.

you plop down on the couch beside will, watching with amusement as he wipes his chin on his shirt sleeve. he turns to you with a soft smirk, "i dunno who gives me more kisses, you or the dog."

you laugh harder than you should at that, but it's just so silly. "there's no way," you tease, landing one peck on his cheek. "i kiss you way, way more."

will shrugs. "well, you've got a competitor, that's all i'm saying," he teases back.

"mm, we'll have to fix that." you lean in until your nose brushes his hairline, kiss him there three times in quick succession, all in a little row. your lips move between his brows next, kissing there, then the bridge of his nose, then the tip of it. just for good measure.

you both lose track of all the kisses you press to his flushed cheeks, but you can't help it when he turns just that little bit redder with every press of your lips to his skin. something between a whine and a hum comes from will, "c'mon, gimme a real kiss."

you kiss him sweetly, one hand running through his golden curls as he melts into you.

© gallaghersgal, 2025

p.s. i love ur works sm!!!! im a little starstruck rn hehe