dutifullymassivecollective - Tumblr blog

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SCP: Tumblr dni that is always an unnervingly specific description of whoever is reading it

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seeing really common birds with the leucism mutation is really neat because sometimes they look like totally different birds ? so i got some pictures from macaulay

blue jay

mallard

blackbird

crow

house sparrow

american robin

black-capped chickadee

red-tailed hawk

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— Hamlet, act 2, sc. 2

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Easily the best audio post I’ve ever made

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you’re laughing. the archivist got kidnapped by a mannequin clown and you’re fucking laughing

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i wanna know the logic behind the apocalypse spell. like.. how the fuck did jonah figure that out? none of the entities even knew their own apocalypses were pointless. felt like a big shot in the dark honestly what if it had just failed

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pathetic weak little archivist

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Did the fandom decide michael is a twink or is that like canon?

I think he deserves to be more round.

reblogs makes my art be seen by more people as well as give me the idea that people like what i create so please consider :3

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my Jon Archivist timeline. which Jon is your favorite?

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some timsasha thoughts

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all eyes

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My God. When you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you.

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ok i love all the increasing-hair-length headcanons for jon but imagine if he had somewhat long hair by the end of s3 and upon waking up from the coma finds that the hospital shaved it bc it was all burned in the explosion, and it didn’t grow back the whole time bc he was dead

in the first couple days basira sometimes catches him tilting his head with an odd look on his face and she thinks it’s some sort of beholding thing but when she finally asks he’s just like ‘my head feels so light without hair’

melanie regularly snaps at him for scratching at it while the stubble is growing out. she keeps scolding him after the bullet comes out, but it starts to gain a trace of fondness.

when daisy comes out of the coffin (a month after jon wakes up), her hair’s gotten ridiculously long and she can’t stand the weight of it or the feeling of it brushing against her skin, and she doesn’t want a pixie or something hard to maintain, so she gets a razor and buzzes it. jon sees it and stutters for a full minute trying to decide whether she’s more likely to kill him if he compliments it or if he doesn’t. then he’s completely derailed when she smiles and says ‘we match’

jon hasn’t been eating well, but daisy’s on a strict schedule to get her strength back and drags him into following it too, so his hair actually starts growing a bit better

on the trip up to ny-alesund, jon’s ears get cold way earlier than he’s used to, and they nearly miss the boat while he’s digging through his bag for his hat

the cap is hand-knit from soft maroon wool. jon had found it in a box with his cold-weather clothes and not remembered where he’d gotten it until he’d run a finger over the neat saxon braid and Known that Martin had tripled the cost limit of the office secret santa to buy the wool, justifying it by the fact that he wouldn’t use all the wool for the hat.

The rest of the wool, jon Knows, sits in Martin’s empty flat in the form of a woman’s sweater, never worn. 

jon keeps wearing the hat around the office afterward. when asked, he mutters something about drafts and basements. daisy finally makes him stop in july when a heat wave hits. 

after hilltop road, he thinks about asking daisy if they can match again. the tickle of hair on the back of his neck feels far too much like cobwebs and crawling legs. 

but: “i miss braiding,” daisy says one day, just before jon reads a statement. 

“my hair’s not long enough,” jon points out, which is not a no.

when he comes out of the statement-fugue, there are dozens of inch-long braids weighing against his skull. 

he leaves them in, and an old lady in the cafe across from the institute smiles at him when she sees them. to his eyes, there is fog curling around her ankles. he calls up the memory of callused fingers sliding through his hair while he reads, and tugs one short braid every time his feet want to get up and approach her.

his hair is the right length to easily hold shape by the time he finds out how to quit the institute. he runs his hand through it so much that when he bursts into martin’s office, it’s sticking up in about ten different directions. when he reacts to the comment on his appearance by talking about his eating habits, martin doesn’t correct him– it’s not entirely wrong, after all.

jon pulls the cap back out as soon as september arrives, even though his hair mostly covers his ears now. he wears it into the lonely.

he keeps having to brush his bangs out of his eyes on the drive up to the safehouse. martin buys him a 50 pence pack of multicolored hairclips at a convenience store an hour outside of london, half expecting jon to turn up his nose. 

he’s not quite prepared for the fond smile Jon gives him, or for him to open the package and hand the brightest two clips back, tilting his head shyly in invitation

the first time martin sees a highland cow, he gasps so loudly and abruptly that jon pulls over to ask him if he’s alright. instead they get out to meet the cow, a wonderful shaggy thing with fur dripping into its eyes that tries to eat martin’s sleeve when he reaches out to pet it

‘maybe we should lend him a hairclip,’ jon jokes hesitantly. it’s not especially funny but martin gives him a chuckle, quiet but fond, and jon starts to believe that things might just be alright after all.

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Jon/Martin/Gerry basically

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