me nd my nick nacks
-
that’s it, that’s the show
what a pair
-
Fingering the seeds out of this jalapeño was so erotic i need to go beat off
Pretty good game
(via moonkitty)
-
Ragebaiting my fat dog? More like master baiting my fat hog!!!!!!!!
❗️Great Hog is displeased by this.
The kingly pig looks taken aback by this statement. “You claim to be ‘baiting’ our kind?.. A master of it, no less - after all the trust we hsve placed in you?”
- Your relationship with the Hog Society 🐖 is now Unfavourable.
-
when I was like 14 I used to reblog these posts on here that were like “YOUR 20S ARE NOT AN IMAGINARY RACE YOURE DOING JUST FINE!!” just to be positive towards my older mutuals even though i didn’t really get what they were about and I’d be in the tags like “#so true!! #everyone does things at their own pace!!” and now im 24 I’m thinking back to it and it’s like Oh of course the imaginary race. Which im losing
-
the average person with bad taste can be into some extremely banal garbage but when you get close enough to someone with otherwise good taste that they start a recommendation by going off on a preamble about how they don’t necessarily recommend it you know you’re seconds away from hearing about some real torturously wretched dogshit
friend from work will have you watch a two hour movie where you can feel every second as it passes by, but enemployed movie mutual will put you on the kind of shit that feels like crawling on cobblestone until emaciated
people are reading this as the latter friend recommending dry, pretentious cinema. that’s not the case. not that kind of situation. you’re getting no enrichment out of this. I need you to understand they’re making you watch Gooby because “it’s kinda good”
Not to insert myself here but as someone who owns Ghost Rider 1 and 2 on DVD I do actually need everyone to watch it right now because in the second one a kid asks Nick Cage as Ghost Rider how he pees and Nick Cage says “it’s like a flamethrower” and then they hard cut to a CGI skeleton in full black moto leather pissing a jet of fire and then it does a shoulder check at the camera and nods like “hell yeah brother”
Fully derailing this post because I found a gif
(via carrotdiscs)
-
-
makes your puppy dusty
ahh fuck!!!!! my puppy!!!!!
Yeah its baically Dusty puppy thursday
(via dogpuppy)
-
-
end of january affirmations
im not doing anything wrong and no one is mad at me
there must be a place for me in this world because here i am
my art doesnt suck
instagram is nothing to me
(via homoeroticjunoincident)
-
-
Imagine this. You’re Spock. You’ve tried not to get yourself emotionally involved with your crewmates. It’s not going very well. Your doctor goes and contracts a terminal illness and doesn’t tell you (but luckily your captain can’t go three seconds without breaking Space HIPAA or whatever exists in the future) and then tries to run away and die on an asteroid. You take out the Instrument of Obedience, privately thinking that it would be nice to have some control over this maniac you somehow care about’s actions. You spend Surak knows how much time downloading and translating an entire civilization’s medical library to cure him. No problem. It was just an incurable disease. You didn’t need to sleep this month.
Two episodes later, another alien civilization tries to check said doctor out like he’s a library book and then writes “withdrawn” on his forehead and pretends they don’t have to give him back. He tells you to leave to save yourself; he’ll stay. Did you mention you decoded an entire medical archive like two weeks ago for—fine. You go through unspeakable emotional violations to put him back into circulation on the Enterprise. It’s cool. You didn’t need your dignity anyway.
Two episodes after that, your illogical, self-sacrificial doctor mutinies and sedates you–the ranking officer in charge–undoing the fact that, again, how many hours did you spend? Curing an incurable illness because you couldn’t let him die? Singing like an idiot in front of a bunch of snickering Platonians with laurel leaves on your head and no pants to speak of?–so he can get himself tortured to death on your behalf. You convince an empath to save him. He pushes her away because he “can’t destroy life.” Your captain is crying. The shiny force field shows everyone that you’re having very non-shiny emotions. Do Vulcans even believe in hell
You think you’ve finally reached some sort of sacrificial detente. It’s been a while. Neither of you have died on the other’s behalf. You’ve both had to save your captain a few times, but that’s normal. All in a day’s work. Then said captain wants all three of you to check out a mysteriously abandoned library of time periods. You should have figured you would wind up in some sort of frozen wasteland with your doctor and no perceivable way to return what you’d borrowed. Well. At least there’s the two of you so that you can keep an eye on–
He falls down in the snow. His hands are blue. “Go on without me,” he says, dramatically. “Alone, you have a chance.”
yeah I’d strangle that fucker against a cave wall too
When you finally beat him at his own game, on the way into the reactor core, both that knowledge and the nerve pinch are oddly satisfying, despite the discomfort and the sorrow that things are at an end.
You’ve placed your soul in his mind for safekeeping, and, perhaps, to give him a taste of the exasperation he’s given you all these years with his penchant for self-sacrifice.
“It’s his revenge for all those arguments he lost!” he blusters to your captain–admiral. Not quite. You’ve lost no argument–you never lost him, despite his best attempts–and now he can’t take his life so lightly, for fear of losing you. If he makes a more reasonable choice of libation in the process, so much the better.
You’re not sure you agree with this dangerous mission to recover your body, which looks strange even to yourself, but you do note with some satisfaction that the doctor uncharacteristically hangs back on occasion, rather than immediately offering his life. Sometimes, you are even able to control his actions, like the Instrument of Obedience from so many years ago, but without physical pain, which never seemed to stop him anyway. Perhaps you will finally get the last word.
As you watch from within, you are surprised to witness your father request a rite so ancient it is more of a legend than a tradition. “My logic is uncertain where my son is concerned,” he says. You recall your doctor once saying, “At least I lived long enough to hear that,” when you admitted to trusting a desperate chance over logic on the Galileo. You suddenly find yourself agreeing with that sentiment. But the fal-tor-pan is only a story, after all.
But then, in horror, tucked safely as you are behind his blue eyes, you hear the priestess speak. There was no way this could be attempted. Yet, she asks.
“But McCoy…you must now be warned! The danger to thyself is as grave as the danger to Spock. You must make the choice.”
No. No. No. This time, the fault is yours.
“I choose the danger,” he says. Because of course he does.
Fuck.
-
-
-
Anyone and everyone CAN write. The world’s most skilled writer didn’t start off skilled. The key is that they practice hard by writing a lot.
As long as you write, you are practicing your craft and you are getting better at writing. But you will never get anywhere if you let AI write for you.
(via fade-steppin)
-
dry humping in its specificity as a term implies the existence of wet humping
not my best work
(via sleepymccoy)
