#I seldom do original posts anymore

[dellinah]

I recently lost my best friend to cancer, and words cannot describe how incredibly painful every waking hour has been since I got the news.

They say time heals all, and I can only hope that the memories that suffocate me now will soon become nostalgic treasures that will soothe my longing.

Right now, it fucking hurts tho

And grief is just a weird feeling. It's trying to face a reality that you cannot comprehend, much less accept; but it forces itself onto you regardless, bc there's no way back.

No way out.

This how it is now.

But really, in trying to process this new reality, it has dawned upon me just how... weird, it is.

Just how weird it all feels to me.

I still know his birthday by heart.

And when it comes around, I know I will think of what gift I should get him for a second - before remembering he's gone, and crying all over again over a wound that never truly healed.

I still know his favorite shows, and I know that he collected funko pops of them. There's a list on my phone with the ones he already had, so that I knew to look for new ones when shopping around.

The messages we sent are still on my phone. Still among the most recent ones, for now.

And when I click on them, the last words we ever exchanged (and will ever exchange) stare back at me. Just like they're any other ordinary message, unaware of the massive weight they carry to me.

As does his profile picture, a frozen image of what he will forever look like in my mind.

Spared the burden and the blessing of aging beyond his mid twenties.

The audio messages are still there, too.

His voice still calls me, by name, every time I hit play. Like an echo of what once was, a voice I will never hear again in this lifetime.

But the recordings remain.

And it hurts me so, so bad.

Yet, I play it over and over again.

Maybe hoping the words will be different at one point, like he's just recorded something new.

But by now, I know each audio by heart.

Over and over and over again.

I still know by heart all of the inside jokes that only he and I knew. And now, I have no one else to tell them to.

When I see a pair of blue pants, or finding nemo merch, or a news reporter wearing yellow; I'll have to keep it to myself from now on.

Because no one else in the world gets why that is funny to me.

Or why it was funny to us.

It's just, I didn't expect everything to vanish when you did.

But I didn't expect just how much what you left behind would hurt.

Your birthday. Our inside jokes. The recipe we always made together. The road where we'd drive at night almost every weekend. The shows we watched together that you'll never see the end of. The path we walked home after school as teens. Your favorite color. The book I borrowed and never gave back.

You are gone, but so much of you remains with me.

It's like a letter adressed to an empty house.

What do I do with it all now?

[justawanderingbabbit]

In which the Babbit rambles on...

I said I'd do a background post for the Mer AU I wrote for Liu Sang. But first, here's why there has to be a Mer Liu Sang AU from me.

Sopping wet Liu Chang requires a something, right?

I mean, look at this man. LOOK at him!

The idea for the fic partly came from discussions I've seen about how mer folk might change gender to make sure there's enough of both genders in a group. I took it in a slightly different direction but the result was Mer-ry Mer-ry Month of May.

And, because I went short deliberately, there's a lot of background info that I'm now going to dump. (After the cut because how I do go on.) Suggest you read the story before reading this because spoilers!

Still with me? Right.

First off, the Mer-verse is actually more a spiritual creature universe, so there's probably more than just mer and sirens and other beasties (oh my) in there. But we'll focus on the water breathers for now.

Mer and Siren, as Liu Sang states in the story, are kin but not close kin anymore. There's a third - as yet unnamed species of water spirit - that's closer to the original but they're mostly reclusive and seldom bother with human forms. Mer and Siren both do so.

Mer are the more outgoing of the water spirits. They try to make contact with humans and while they can't interbreed, they enjoy a good fuck as much as the next fish. They're also closer to fish in appearance and lifestyles, having tribes who mimic different species of fish. They're more likely to be found hanging around fishermen and the like and making friends.

Siren tend to be loners and don't need others to breed. Their fish forms are more esoteric and vary by siren; not mimicking specific species at all. They're closer to spiritual energies and between that and their being a bit more violent and stabbity (not to mention given to eating what annoys them) those who know about them know to be careful.

Both mer and siren regenerate, rather like starfish, so they take a lot of killing to stop.

Liu Sang and his twin were stolen from their parent (yes, Yan Sanxing's their parent. He's also Er Yue Hong's 'shark'.) at an early age. Liu Sang managed to escape with help from the Xie family and was sent to train with his soundmapping teacher. Wang Can remained with the Wang and trained as a soldier, until he was captured by Wang Pangzi and the Blue Robed Master and convinced to help Wu Xie's cause. Wang Can is currently living in Tibet with the Blue Robed Master and working as a truck guard.

Discerning readers may have noted that Xiazi is probably Not Entirely Human. Figure he gives gr8 hugs because I do love me cephalapoda.

I haven't thought of much else yet, but I'll update this if I do.

[befemininenow]

Welcome to my blog, stranger.

You probably got here by accident, or by intention. Whether it was the algorithm or a shared post from this blog, it was appealing enough to get you here. Maybe it was the girls in the pics. Maybe it was the captions that persuaded you. Maybe the descriptions in the posts were relatable. Or maybe even the blog’s name caught your attention. Whatever it was that led you here, welcome to my trans girl caption blog. It’s mostly captions and post descriptions based on the fantasies and IRL experiences of trans girls on a random POV. They may even “crack your egg”. While they may not speak for all trans girls, it may be relatable to you. Once in a while, I may end up making a post about other feminine-leaning identities such as femboys if you’re also into that. However, If you’re not comfortable with this topic or expect other BDSM-related topics (i.e. sissy, dom worshipping, etc.), I suggesst you look somewhere else.

Update as of April 26, 2024: I made some edits to the post since so much has changed from last year. Also, hi. I’m Ashley Nicole. But you can call me “Nicki/Nikki”.

What is this blog about?

It is caption blog detailing the experiences of trans girl’s (or woman’s) while closeted or out. Some posts even detail my own experiences dating as back as I can remember. Imagery of girls, cis and trans, are generally used in relation to the captions. Each experience is unique, so don’t feel bad if you can’t relate to posts like “anime girls cracked my egg”. I seldom share other topics related to issues trans girls often face, as well as even share a small biography of trans girls in a few of my posts.

Who is it aimed for?

It is aimed at those who identify as transgender, questioning, fluid, and those who wish to explore their feminine side. These captions are meant to detail experiences and fantasies that trans girls have even before transitioning. However, captions are not meant for everyone, just like how not every trans girl is meant to be a programmer (sorry if I crushed your dreams).

Why did you create this blog?

Simply put, the disturbing amount of forced feminization, BDSM, and sissy blogs overflowing this site motivated me to do something different. Although few of these blogs have at least something redeeming to the point where I may reblog it and attach a description, the vast majority repels me due to its negative, humiliating energy. Unfortunately, caption blogs focused on the experiences of trans girls are either inactive or overshadowed. Lastly, I wanted to share a few personal experiences of exploring my identity through captions and post descriptions. 

Where do you get your sources?

I get them through Google searches, social sites, and of course, other blogs from this site. Captions and descriptions are also based on what I learned, read, and heard through trans girls both online and IRL.

When do you usually post?

I post almost daily, or when I’m in the mood. I often reblog from other sources, but it is becoming a rare instance. Thursdays and Fridays are throwback and flashback posts recalling my own experiences or to jog the reader’s memory of seeing a familiar picture. I even point out the original pic source for trivia, or how the pic influenced me in making the captioned pic.

How will this help?

It is meant to affirm and validate any person who often deals with denial about being transgender. Although some of these captions seem a little teasing and may be seen as a fetish, everything is voluntary. However, NEVER use captions to treat gender dysphoria! Seek professional help if you are dealing with it! Also, please research the effects of HRT pills (hormone replacement therapy) as the changes may be permanent depending on the individual. They are not like Senzu Beans that will inflate you if taking more than needed. You WILL get actual and unpleasant side effects if abused.

Can you do any requests?

I’m sorry, but I rarely have the time to check back my blog or messages anymore. If I don’t read your message for some reason, don’t take it as an offense. I’m simply quite reserved and busy IRL. It could take time before I check back. Also, no, I will not take your request to “feminize” you! Fake “mistresses, doms, godesses, and daddies” are also out of the question! I had an awful intro experience online role-playing with them and I am never doing that again!

I’m a “sissy”, femboy, crossdresser (CD), etc. Am I welcome here?

I won’t place a ban on you if you are a sissy, a femboy, or a crossdresser as I have to acknowledge a good portion of my followers are of that category. However, I do not associate myself with the term “sissy” as I take it as a derogatory word used to invalidate someone’s gender identity. If you’re looking for “sissy” or “forced fem” stuff in this blog, don’t bother. You will dehydrate as fast as SpongeBob and Patrick on Sandy’s treedome.

Last: A little bit about you?

I’m a trans girl in her very early 30s who has an internal female side that I want to express. There are days I feel feminine and there are days I feel fluid with my gender. While I’m not completely out yet due to personal and social issues, I know I will finally be my own self once the chance comes. My primary interests are girls, though I may be interested in other feminine-leaning individuals in an occasion. While I won’t reveal my actual age, I am one of the older cuspers born between millennial and Gen Z. Favorite things include, but not limited to, anime, games, pop culture, and social media. You will catch some references through my caption posts.

I hope this Q&A solved most of your questions and doubts. Enjoy your stay here. You’ll probably find something you like. Thank you.

-Ashley “Nicki” Nicole

[n0tdavid]

Alphonso & Jealousy

Last night (or early this morning) I made a post about how Alphonso would be a little bit jealous of the Umbrellas and I'm gonna expand on that though more under the cut.

The Sparrow Academy has always been a fantastic team. A well oiled crime fighting machine. To the public they seem like they have each others backs no matter what, like they're a perfect little family that just happens to have super powers they use to fight crime. It's always been a very carefully planned PR stunt put forward originally by Reginald and later carried on by Marcus and Ben. Behind the Academy doors though, it's never been particularly true.

They're a family sure, they have the same dad (to Reg's dismay), they call each other brothers and sisters, but they've never been particularly close to one another. Everything is always a competition. Who gets the most baddies on a mission? Who's moving where in Dad's ranking? How much did you train this week? And don't even get him started on his siblings fights with one another. With the others it's never just an argument. It's never just verbal. It always escalates to a knock down dragged out fight, usually with powers. More often that not Christopher or Al himself need to step in and stop things before anyone gets seriously injured or worse. Even more disturbing was when they would spar against one another for training. Some of Al's first scars were from his siblings, which in part might have something to do with why they tend not to pick fights with him.

Once they started drugging Reginald at Pogo's request and departure, Al seldom saw his siblings outside of meal times and training. Those also always doubled as family meetings. The only sibling he typically saw was Jayme. They had always been... not exactly close but they had always got along more than the others. Even so, he still often found himself wondering about what ifs. What if he got injured to a point where he couldn't use his powers anymore? What if the Sparrow Academy stopped being a thing? What if Dad's money ran out? What if all their powers just mysteriously went away? Would any of his siblings care for him? Would they stay by his side, or keep in touch? Or would they all shrug their shoulders and go their separate ways...

That was something he realized about the Umbrellas. They were pitiful fighters of course, but so were most of the people the Sparrows had fought over the last few years. But he could tell they genuinely cared about one another. The way Five stepped in to save Allison from being stomped. The way Luther was yelled for his siblings to get out of there and was willing to die to Marcus for the rest of them to get out of the house. The same way with how Viktor shouted over the balcony for Luther to leave and Five later shouted for Viktor. He can't remember the last time his siblings tried to convince him to exercise even a little self preservation.

He had always wondered about his mom. He had tried to find her once, it should have been easy there were only three human males adopted into the Sparrow Academy, and the difference between Marcus, Ben and Al was obvious. He found an article about Marcus's mom featuring her photo and her name. There was a smaller article about an underage woman giving birth on the subway in Korea, no name, no photo but obviously Ben. All that came up for himself was that Hargreeves had visited an orphanage in Italy in December of 1989, and that Orphanage later went on to build a new wing to their building and named it after his stupid codename he'd given himself. The Monocle, Il Monocolo. Sometime after drugging Reginald, Alphonso had tried calling that Orphanage once, to get more information on his mother. But it was no use. There were no records of him there. He might have pressed more on why there was no record but... he knew better.

It had been odd, to hear Diego call the robot maid "Mom". But something about the look in Diego's eyes. It tugged almost imperceptibly at Al's heart strings. He had only ever known Grace as a Nanny, and a maid. She was never particularly maternal to the Sparrows, and the older the got the more Al took noticed how often she "broke" and needed to be "repaired" by Pogo or Reginald. In that moment that he saw how Diego looked at their maid he wondered if that had been the truth.

He'd be a little tiny bit jealous of the Umbrella Academy. They got a mom. They have siblings who care about each of them like siblings, as opposed to "siblings" who are about as emotionally distant from one another as some cousins tend to be. If Diego wasn't such a smug prick, if he survived the attack from Harlan... Alphonso definitely could have been convinced to switch teams.

[starsunderwaterr]

Peeling Up the Lies (Pearl x reader)

This is my first tumblr post so tbh I don’t really know what I’m doing but we’re gonna go with it! 

Here’s a Pearl x reader I thought of when I was eating yesterday!

also im ngl the insults i used against pearl made me giggle im so sorry pearl please don’t kill me i love you 😭

All characters involved are 18+

Minors DNI

words: 1058

warnings: none

Pearl stared at the laptop with a sigh, scrolling through all of the comments on the group’s new music video. Despite the positive remarks, the same type of comments continued to flow in each time. 

“Haha, egghead”

“Next to Marina she looks like trash”

“MC Onion”

They used to make her blood boil, but now they just made her tired. She had to keep putting up the front that it didn’t bother her though, because she was Pearl, enough said. Marina had confronted her about it countless times before, but Pearl always brushed it off, saying she didn’t care. 

And usually it didn’t, but today, for some reason, it was. 

She continued to scroll, the comments lighting up her face in the dark room. It was an addiction, looking through the mean things they said. Pearl ignored all of the positive remarks, not even seeing them anymore. She was in too deep. 

She didn’t even notice when her partner walked in, instead feeding into the hatred.  Originally, your plans were to hang out with your spunky girlfriend that day, but when she wouldn’t answer your texts or calls, you decided to go looking for her. 

“Pearl…?” You asked from the doorway of the office, trying to catch her attention with a quick wave. When she didn’t answer, not even with a glance or a grunt, you knew something was off. 

You walked over to her desk, still trying to see if she would notice you. I mean, you were right there.

“Heyy…?” You sang, waving your hand in front of her face again. For a quick second, you glanced at the screen, noticing a comment. 

“Pearl ruins Off the Hook, it should just be Marina”

 Pearl finally seemed to break out of her dejected daze, slamming the laptop shut and looking at you. She raised a rather defensive brow, but her eyes that were glazed over told a different story. “(Y/N)? Why are you snooping on me? When did you even come in?”

“I wasn’t snooping on you. I’ve been calling you for the past thirty minutes, but you didn’t answer my calls or texts. I tried calling for you from the door a few minutes ago, but you didn’t answer. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” You added a small smile to try and ease the tension. 

Pearl’s gaze on you lingered a little longer before she looked down at the closed laptop. “Well, I’m fine, so you don’t need to worry.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Really? You think I didn’t see?” You sighed, pulling up a seat next to her in a nearby beanbag. 

“Pearl, I know you’re lying when you say that what people say about you doesn’t bother you.”

Pearl looked down in her lap, staying silent. In all the time of being one of her closest friends (next to Marina, and I mean, you’re literally her partner), you had seldom gotten her to open up. 

“It doesn’t.” She spat, hardening her gaze at you. 

“Really?” You asked, taking the laptop out of her lap. “Then why couldn’t you pull your eyes away?” You glared, challenging her back. It was a little game you two liked to play. 

Pearl glared harder, finally letting go with a huff. She never let herself lose. She looked back at her lap, her brows furrowed as she shook her head in gentle disbelief. 

“I’m so much more than what those people say. I know I am. They’re just jealous that I’ve come so far.” You were happy to hear all of this, but it didn’t shake the fact that the more she spoke, the more her eyes glistened. 

But, you simply listened, not bothering to interrupt her as she went on. She was finally looking at you, too, not at her lap.

“They make fun of the way I look when they’re too insecure to go out themselves! Always saying stuff about my forehead and my style. And…and…” Whatever she was about to say was something that hit home, hard, as she began to get choked up and tripped on her words. 

Your brows furrowed in concern, and you took her hand in support. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it.” 

At this, Pearl whimpered, bursting into a quiet cry. Instinctively, you hugged her, feeling her face nuzzle into the crook of your neck. You placed your hand on the back of her head, feeling your heart break as she sobbed into your shoulder. 

After a few moments, you felt her wrap her arms around your torso in accordance, nestling into your side. You remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

“It usually doesn’t bother me, but sometimes, it does. It makes me feel really insignificant when they say I should just be gone.” She muttered the last bit, nuzzling further into you. You nodded, a deep frown on your face. “Of course it would. You are absolutely in no way insignificant. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” You smiled, rubbing her cheekbone as she looked up with glossy eyes. 

As your smile faded, you grimaced. “You can’t keep up that front forever, you know. It’s okay to be upset about it. It doesn’t make you weak, Pearlie. You’re as tough as nails, MC Princess!” With a little smirk, you gave her shoulder a feather-light punch. 

At the use of her trusty nickname, her eyes shined. A small smile made its way to her face, and she nodded, wiping her eyes. “You’re right, (N/N). I’m not weak, I’m only the best rapper in all of Inkopolis and I co-created the sickest band ever!” She cheered, throwing her arms up happily. 

You couldn’t help but smile, even laughing a little bit. “That’s right, Pearlie!” You cheered with her, smiling down at her. To your surprise, she tackled you in another hug, wrapping her arms tightly around you. 

Hesitating, but finally settling upon it, you reciprocated, resting your head on top of hers. “Thanks again, (N/N). It means a lot to have you in my life.” A blush creeped along your cheeks, grinning sheepishly. 

“Thanks, Pearlie. Anytime. You know I’d do anything for you.” You expressed honestly. At this, Pearl grinned, but it was that grin. “Anything, you say…?” 

Your happiness instantly dropped, and your eyes widened. “Oh cod…” You muttered before being swarmed by a tiny love-rage machine. (Rage Against the Machine, anyone??) As you died, you were swarmed by kisses, laughter, and tight hugs. 

Man, what a heavenly way to die. 

[dballzposting]

important post

I’ll admit it. I’ve always had trouble understanding & characterizing Ms Bulma. I’m always changing how I post about her. I’m watching the original dragon ball right now and I LOVED her to start, her outfits and abilities and the things she thinks and says, and I still love her. And maybe I’m figuring her out a bit.

So I need to address a grievance ...

1. I started watching DBZ at Future Trunks’s debut so I wasn’t really getting Bulma’s shining period and I knew that. And with my colloquial knowledge, and using her clear vanity, I deduced from her not only a heterosexuality but an allosexualism. I figured she was a bomb ass bitch who loves to fuck sex hot men becasue shes so damn hot herself and she likes that acknowledged.

2. I knew our Vegeta to be asexual just because I know things. And I wondered if Bulma ever found herself unsatisfied in their marriage at times, or if Vegeta found himself over-sexxed at times - but, like, it wasn’t my business, so I just decided that They Work It Out Fine.

3. IDK. I’ve just kept posting in this manner.

4. The thing is, dragon ball is sort of a very asexual piece of media. Romance is minimal and sex is peddled as comedy and overwrought in a manner that implies a lack of intuition regarding. A lot of characters feel asexual for that reason.

5. But not all of them. Krillin for example feels pretty straight. Like it’s normal and natural to assume that of him.

6. I’ve always deferred and assumed allosexuality of Bulma because I felt that it was the polite thing to do, that it was what was to be expected of her character, and it was what we should be honoring. Nevermind if the franchise gives us anything to work with or not - it’s DRAGON BALL, it’s not GONNA give us anything. We have to assume.

7. But. Again. Not all the characters are like that. Krillin is pretty reasonably heterosexual for instance. You can feel that. It feels real.

8. What we see of Bulma’s heterosexuality seems to start and end in her adolescence - when the franchise starts, she is collecting the dragon balls in order to wish for a cute and nice boyfriend. And we do see her go ga-ga roshi-style over hot men a few times. But then we sort of, like, stop seeing that.

9. Her first boyfriend is Yamucha, They have a falling out before they ever even kiss (I don’t remember when it was said that they never even kissed but I did see it said at some point.) WTF did she want a cute boyfriend for then, if not to kiss him.

10. After Yamucha was Vegeta. And that was it. Beautiful Bulma’s long line of lovers starts with Yamucha and ends with Vegeta. 

11. Bro. She ends her romance career with the cold, reserved, and asexual Vegeta. Someone who would never lay the first touch, who would never approach her for physical affection, but who would be receptive of it if she plays her cards right.

12. Also Vegeta is totally unwanted by all, unlike Yamucha, so there is no competition, there is no need for Bulma to ever feel like she needs to put out in order to compete against other women (NOT THAT YAMCUHA WOULD HAVE EVER EVER EXPECTED THAT but it’s not amiss for us to assume that she could have put that responsibility on herself, based on what she’s seen of the world), and she can always have her trophy husband because Vegeta has nowhere else to go.

13. She wanted a boyfriend when she was young but then later she just wanted cool adventures and to solve problems. And after she had Trunks she became a mother so her priorities shifted yet again. I don’t think she’s really putting herself out there and vying for a man. She can raise her kid herself and she doesn’t really want another’s input. And she’s just older than she used to be. She’s not interested in cute boys anymore. She’s interested in inventing cool shit and running her own life.

14. And again Vegeta will leave her to it and they seldom bother each other.

15. Not mentioned here is the way that Bulma has been objectified her entire life for her beauty, and although she speaks the truth and honors her own sense of vanity, it could not have been good for her to see her virtuous beauty be reduced down to Something To Desire And Consume in the eyes of others. And that can do something to a person and the way that they express their sexuality.

CONCLUSION:

Bulma you may have been asexual this whole time and I just wasn’t willing to see it I’M SORRY GIRL 

[danganronpa96]

So I saw in another post that Greg Heffley was originally intended to be in dr69 and possibly a culprit? If you managed to add him how would you go about doing it??

I know I answered a question similar to this one about Greg, but I wanted to go into more detail about how I would try and implement him in the killing game. Bear in mind I haven't read the books in years and only skimmed his wiki page (and the sociopath theory doc cuz that one's pretty useful for this lol).

Greg, would be granted (by himself, following the DR69 lore) as the Ultimate Writer, Video Game Expert, or Autobiographer (the former would clash a bit with Brian's talent so I'm a bit unsure). I think, being put into a life or death situation, he would be a bit more paranoid... or so we think. On the outside, he makes it out that he believes it's all a big prank or joke by someone, hiding any nerves to make himself look better in front of everyone else.

Through any daily life, hell, even investigations and trials, he does all he can to make himself look as impressive as possible, stretching the truth on his sleuthing skills. He paints himself as a brave representative, however when faced with a hard logical aspect of a case, casually tips it off to someone else, only to claim full credit for himself. I feel like some people would fall for it, while others roll their eyes and grit their teeth just so they can move on for the sake of the trial.

Now... when does he turn into a killer? Well, out of all the motives in DR69, the most fitting for Greg does feel like the 2nd: the granted wish. After all, all Greg's ever dreamed for is success and riches. I mean, he doesn't have to get his hands that bloody to count as murder, right? (I think the 3rd motive could also work as he feels like the type to get paranoid about someone having dirt on him, but the 4th isn't that strong as he seldom holds many people very close to him).

I'm not sure who exactly he'd kill, but it'd have to be someone that could be easily manipulated. I think anyone from Fluttershy, Parappa, Miku (but probably not, for obvious reasons), 2D, Dedede, or Mr. Krabs would be possible. Of course I'm not saying these guys are easy targets -- they're just very nice people who would unfortunately be victim to Greg's disgusting actions. I'd say Peter too, however he feels a bit too big for Greg to take one alone... who knows. Also Luigi but if he's still protag rights then nah lol.

His main factor for his case would be his lies. He would drench himself in as many alibis and fabricate as much evidence that removes him from the suspect list as possible. He would use anyone that falls for his narratives as bait and tools to further guarantee his safety. The details would be meticulous, or so he thinks.

It's the lies that get him caught, also. A slip of the tongue. An account that doesn't quite add up with another. He tries to stretch it further. He says he was simply forgetting this one part, didn't mean to say another. Eventually, no one is convinced by his fables anymore, and everything starts to fall apart. His facade starts to slip too, showing his true nature: just a young boy who wants validation. A young boy who wanted some recognition.

A young boy who isn't ready to die.

I'd like to think one of the remaining students finds a diary he's been writing in while the killing game was going on. He feels a lot more real through these pages than he ever did around anyone else. You could almost feel sorry for him, as if this was a cry for help.

[siena-sevenwits]

I posted 1,673 times in 2022

That's 1,673 more posts than 2021!

243 posts created (15%)

1,430 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lady-merian

@gailyinthedark

@telthor

@hollers-and-holmes

@lovesodeepandwideandwell

I tagged 1,408 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#literary - 289 posts

#ha! - 208 posts

#art - 177 posts

#beauty - 153 posts

#tolkien - 91 posts

#lotr - 74 posts

#film - 69 posts

#faith - 60 posts

#writing - 53 posts

#ideas - 51 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and growing from his time in community life and following the horarium and going to the chapel daily and interpersonal stuff with the monks

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

One of the things I have learned as a teacher - there are some things in literature that students have to believe for a while and get passionate about,. You have to make space for them to express it before you try to steer them toward a greater curiosity and understanding of the character/the author's intention.

High schoolers often need to express some vitriol toward Romeo and Juliet's relationship, and a chance to throw disgust at it. They need it before you can get into discussions about why they might have fallen for each other in the way they did, or whether Shakespeare is holding them up for admiration or for something a little more nuanced, OR (and you can only have this discussion a little way down the road) why they're reacting to an ill-advised romance with such visceral frustration when they've been very even-tempered about murder and cheating and deception in other works. (And if they've been heard out first, they often find this discussion fascinating.) Once they've had room to give their honest first impressions, room for greater understanding and empathy is opened up.

Students need to joke with the teacher about how meandering Polybius is and how he seldom comes to his point. You need to good-naturedly tease Polybius from beyond the grave before you can throw a magnifying glass on the fact that Polybius's most interesting thoughts are in the "tangents."

Students need to be able to express that they're horrified that God would order the Israelites to kill every last Canaanite - have to admit that they can't seem to reconcile it with their understanding of a loving God. Only after this is acknowledged - that this is a difficult passage to comprehend - can you start examining it to understand.

I used to think I was aiding my students by debunking some thoughts before they could even be expressed. I thought if I gave them the chance to say these things, they'd become the entrenched class opinion, and they'd resent attempts to budge them from it. So I used to start classes with phrases like, "When it comes to Romeo and Juliet, many people tend to think ______, but in fact if we look closer...." I try not to do that anymore.

There must be room for honest first impressions, or you will not be able to go on honestly. No one can become more open-minded when you attempt to short-circuit their thoughts before they are even expressed.

118 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

#4

Whenever I buy iron or zinc from the pharmacy I feel like a Mistborn.

188 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

#3

Love that "my brother in Christ" became a thing, because fraternal correction is ripe for comedy! I do think all the adaptations of it into other phrases are hilarious though. Because while they often work for their jokes, almost all of them would be that much funnier with the original implied layer that you're being called out because someone thought it was their scriptural duty to do so, and probably feels super awkward about. They are just hoping you will amend your misguided opinions about Pokemon before they have to take you before two or three witnesses.

194 notes - Posted October 17, 2022

#2

This is hardly original, but tonight I'm obsessed with how in the Passion narratives, even the words and accidental prayers of Christ's enemies are fulfilled and proclaim Him.

And Pilate seeing that he prevailed nothing, but that rather a tumult was made; taking water washed his hands before the people, saying: "I am innocent of the blood of this just man; look you to it." And the whole people answering, said: "His blood be upon us and our children." (Matthew 27:24-25)

They mean it in the most horrific and bloodthirsty sense - let us be proud to have caused this man's death! - but looking at their actual words - could there be a better prayer if meant with love? Let His blood, lovingly shed for us, mark us for all time! Not just in our generation, but in all generations to come! Let His sacrifice ensure our redemption. Let His blood be our true drink.

And the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him... and saying: If thou be the king of the Jews, save thyself... And one of those robbers who were hanged, blasphemed him, saying: "If thou be Christ, save thyself and us." (from Luke 23:36-39)

And He does! He does! He doesn't save Himself from mockery, torture, and death in that moment - He fulfills the thief's mocking "prayer" in a far more thorough and incredible way - He reverses death itself! He makes it that death has no power over Himself nor us!

And there was also a superscription written over him in letters of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS. (Luke 23:38)

Pilate's plaque accurately proclaims to the world, in the local and universal languages, just who this is dying on the cross. In spite of Himself, he unwittingly proclaims the truth, though he questions what truth even is.

It's just - wild. All creation is telling the glory of God, even when we most reject Him.

204 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Imagine meeting your online friends in person, and there is not one single moment of awkwardness except of the enjoyable kind. It's all joy. You get to see sides of them that never came through online. You get to see the light in their eyes. Their sense of humour is the same but broader because you're in person. Any worries you might have had that it will turn out disappointing or embarrassing fly out the window, and at the end of the day you feel twice as close as you already were, if not more.

505 notes - Posted May 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[qulizalfos]

posting this again!! if u saw it the first time no you didnt!!!!!! (original shitty poem ft a metaphor for seasonal depression and my hatred for bugs)

flies in winter

december rolls around. i get whiplash from how fast it goes. i lose track of time. it slips through the gaps in my fingers like sand on a beach. it's been a long time since i've been on a beach. say i hate the flashing lights people drape from their trees and you kindly acknowledge that i just spoke. flies knock against windowpanes. i used to be so terrified of them. i would come to you. you make my soul feel less alone the way nobody else quite can. i still get uneasy at times. small flies. there and gone. there and gone. this time of year i hardly see them. the lamp you bought in the corner stains the kitchen buttery gold. you like to keep it on. i find them crawling on the underside of the shade. i must have killed hundreds. over the years. fear. larger flies. i have always feared what i do not know. so grotesque. bulging red eyes. rub their hind legs together. i have always feared. it's winter. i seldom see flies that are not a cloud. they are all ricocheting off the same glass. they seek the same light. some got in when i let myself through the side door and i try to crush one with a tissue. too close for comfort. i miss several times. it keeps crawling back to the lamp. so small. i will not remember in two days. i swat it away. it comes back and the thought rises in me. what an inherent tragedy. written in stars. i see the stars from my window. flies bash against it at night. night comes so early. if i bat them away from a bulb they will march back to be destroyed if it means heat grace them once more. i cannot envision a reality where i would ever feel such passion. the porch light stays on. the flies dutifully assemble up to tap against it. i am still scared. i too am small. i too will be forgotten. i do not know anything about flies. i hardly know anything about myself. not anymore. your guess is as good as mine. for now i just keep stumbling along, trying to find my own porch light.

[mitamicah]

I finally have this introduction ready for you ^V^ 

Who am I? 

I am a 26 soon-to-be 27 year old person from Denmark going by the names Marco or Njor - both works ^V^ my zodiac sign is taurus and the chinese zodiac is the pig. I am introverted autistic nerd who loves animated series especially the queer ones and I also have a soft spot for everything mythology, a love that started with Danish cartoons about Norse mythology and then later Percy Jackson. I strive to live as a kind and honest human being and I will be meowing at you if I feel comfortable so I am basically a 5,10′’/179 cm tall cat. 

What is my gender and pronouns? 

I am AFAB and identify as nonbinary. My pronouns are they/them. I am pre-medical transition and only started socially transitioning. Someday I’d love top surgery and maybe/maybe not take hormones as well. 

What is my sexuality? 

I am asexual and on the aromantic spectrum so aro-ace for short.

What are my hobbies? 

I spend a lot of time drawing yet do also own some guitars and ukuleles that I like to pretend I can play decently. I can play enough to make some songs ^V^ I sing in an amateur choir once a week and also enjoy open mics in my city sharing my songs with other likeminded artistic wierdos (affectionate) Otherwise I love reading - which will mostly be fantasy or queer contemporaries - or keep up with some good shows especially if animated. Very seldom I enjoy lowkey cosplaying but I mostly “just” do Nico di Angelo because I like him x’D I also have a Castiel cosplay and a Pippin Took cosplay and I am kind of saving up to cosplaying one of my own characters xD 

What kind of art do I make? 

I mostly do fanart of my favourite movies and series and/or characters I like. Sometimes I’ll also share my original characters. I use both digital media (paint tool sai version 2) and traditional media (pen and pencil, sometimes coloured pencil too). 

What kind of media do I like? 

Here’s a non-exhaustive lists of fandoms I feel like I am a part of that you may or may not see me post/reblog on this blog:  

Tales of Arcadia, Riordanverse, The Owl House, How to Train Your Dragon, Shadowhunter Chronicles, Osemanverse, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir, Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, Arcane, Lord of the Rings, She Ra and the Princesses of Power, Supernatural, Pixar, Encanto

May you draw my characters?

You are more than welcome to draw my characters yet keep it SFW. All characters can be found on my toyhouse here - you guys would probably mostly be familiar with Mars and Pau. 

Leftie or rightie? 

I am lefthanded yet somehow still try to catch everything with my right - guess that could be one excuse for why I am this clumsy 

What are things I cannot live without? 

My headphones, some sort of comfort or stimming toy (rn that is plushies), drawing tablet and/or pen and paper 

If you have anymore questions feel free to ask ^V^ 

[1kook]

commercial break ; THREE

this is a netflix & chill drabble kook’s pov during their argument in d&b !

summary; But Jungkook loves the sun. warnings; post-fight, drinking, heart ache :( miscellaneous; everyone say thank u kim namjoon 🤩 word count; 1.5k

notes; a lot of people wanted to know his thoughts during the iconic d&b fight scene so here’s the closure we all needed </3 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second the last syllable departs from his lips.

Jungkook doesn’t mean it, that much he knows right away, but even still… there’s a silent moment of shock between the two of you, one where even he is surprised by his own tongue.

You move first, phone whipping across the room.

Now Jungkook has seen a lot of scary things in his life. He’s seen horror movies and walked through a cemetery at night once. He’s come home way past curfew and had to face the wrath of his normally lenient father. He’s sat front row in his first ever college seminar. Yet none of that fear, that anxiety, that dread, compares to the level of emotion he feels wrap around his throat the moment you get up.

“___, wait,” he calls out frantically, hands shaking the further and further you get. He has to tell you he doesn’t mean it, that he would never mean it. But how do you follow up a statement like that? Even when he catches your eyes, beautiful irises colder than the bottom of the ocean, he doesn’t know what to say. He stutters through an excuse he wouldn’t have believed himself and watches you slip further away.

Jungkook can’t let you leave, not when you’re so hurt and he’s so confused, but what else can he say? He doesn’t know, and when you angrily send him back inside he feels every bit the scolded child. Funny how that works.

He calls and calls until he realizes the muted hum from upstairs is the phone you left behind. He’s crazy and in love, desperately scouring through your social media accounts for a sign you’re safe and home. (You were on Twitter three minutes ago, so that’s a relief.) But even then he can’t relax, turning his own words over and over in his head.

Jungkook values a lot of things in your relationship. There’s a beautiful understanding that comes with being in love, a new sense of comfort he’d never felt before. You make him feel warm and in love, keep him grounded when the world threatens to swallow him beneath its surface. You care for him and he for you.

Where those thoughts had come from, he didn’t know. All he knew was that one minute you were picking at the edges of his patience, and the next he was shooting a dagger into your chest.

Self-reflection, Namjoon had always said, the key point to understanding oneself. Usually, that’s followed by some tips on yoga, on calming the mind, but his leg won’t stop bouncing and there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around his throat so that zen mentality will have to wait for now. A harsh exhale, foot thumping against the floor.

Carefully, he unscrambles his thoughts.

There were times you were childish and, for the most part, Jungkook didn’t mind. You brought out the most beautiful things in life with just your laughter alone. You roped him into doing things he never could enjoy growing up, which made him rekindle his love for old hobbies. If sunshine was a person, Jungkook is sure it was you.

You were bright and ever-burning, always with a mission in your head, even if it was something as small as cleaning your windows that day. A star, he thinks, except your smile alone garners the power of ten supernovas combined. The amount of joy and euphoria you’ve brought him this past year was immeasurable. You made him smile, even when you were tired, rising every morning and setting every night dutifully just like the sun.

But too much sunshine could be hot, scorching even.

His mom had mentioned it once, very early into your relationship, how you were a little too childish for Jungkook. He had angrily defended you, stormed out of his parents' house like he was ready to leave them all for you. (Would he? He likes to think so.) But a mother’s advice always haunted one the most.

Yes, your youthful outlook made his life colorful and bright, but there were times he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone… not as outgoing.

Someone plain and always collected. Someone who would gently remind him of his deadlines, and watch all his favorite documentaries with him. Someone like him, he supposed, who matched his interests perfectly.

It sounds awfully boring.

It sounds terrible to be damned to such a dull life, especially now that he’s had a taste of you. You, who brings laughter and sunshine everywhere you go, his amazing other half. He’d hate it if you always did what he wanted— he loves when you pick at everything he likes because you let him do it back! Jungkook’s head was a never-ending spiral— that much he’s known from a young age. But with you in his life, it became fun and exhilarating. Gone was the dark tunnel and in its place was a twisty slide with loops and turns that defied all laws of gravity. It wasn’t a scary place anymore and it was all because of you.

You, who he might possibly lose forever. His own negligence was to thank, an inability to voice small issues until they piled up and became this big, warped monster that no longer pertained to his original frustrations. It was an ugly thing, so twisted and vile, taking the thoughts he seldom had and weaponizing them against you.

Was that it? Had those mindless thoughts been the root of today’s brash decisions. Jungkook wants to blame it on that, but part of him knows it’s his own inability to share his feelings that led to that spontaneous outburst. There were obviously some things he still needed to work on, but pinning it all on you, his dazzling ray in the sky, was the worst move he could have made. Self-reflection, he repeats to himself.

His heart is still pounding in his ears, drumming obnoxiously loud as if it wants to torture him for his actions. His phone rings across the room and Jungkook lunges for it, hoping and praying it’s you.

It’s not.

It’s just Namjoon calling to wish the two of you a happy anniversary. “You two having fun?” he teases before Jungkook can get so much as a greeting in.

“Hyung,” he chokes out hoarsely, glancing down at the ground. “I-I said something to ___,” he whispers even though there is no one here to hide from but his own crippling thoughts. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

His voice cracks a little. He hides it with a gulp so dry it hurts. “What?” Namjoon asks. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “Are you busy right now?”

—

“You need to go to bed,” Namjoon tells him, ambling the two of them up the stairs. Jungkook snorts, sliding against the entire wall on the way up.

“I refuse,” he announces. He has to pause on the next step because he’s pretty sure there’s about four of the same step whirling before his eyes. Beside him, Namjoon sighs. “Hyung, I can’t see.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, deciding the stairs are too much of a hassle and guiding them back to the living room instead. “Couch,” he informs him before rather carelessly dumping him onto it. “Listen,” he begins, crouching down beside Jungkook. “It’s like, 4 AM… and I have work tomorrow. So I’m going to leave,” he says, slowly pointing in the direction of outside. Jungkook nods, even though Namjoon is definitely pointing upside-down backward. “Okay, JK?”

“That’s me,” he agrees, letting his head slump back against a throw pillow. Namjoon groans.

“That is you,” he concedes. “And you need to sober up before you try talking to ___ again.”

The mere mention of your name turns a switch on inside him. “Can’t,” he whines, features twisting up together. “She hates me. Will cut my balls off.”

Namjoon goes to protest but eventually stops himself. “Yeah, well. Probably.” Jungkook wails at his friend’s poor attempt at consoling him. “Sleep a little and then head over to hers, okay?” He pats him on the cheek once before finally making his exit.

Jungkook can’t believe this. How embarrassing. If you saw him right now, you’d clown him for getting this drunk off wine. But he truly understands it now. It was the devil’s drink, so sweet and cooling only to suddenly slap him across the face with his own insobriety. Oh, his head was going to ache badly later.

Well, that was a problem for later’s Jungkook, he decides as he slinks off the couch and back into the kitchen. There’s a new box of cherry vodka he’d bought just for tonight—or last night, technically—because he knows it’s your favorite. And well. He misses you so much he’ll do anything to feel close to you again.

He’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, swing after swing going down his throat until he’s got three extra fingers and a new middle name. Just that when the sun finally filters through, so warm and bright, he finds himself missing you again. His feet take him out the door before he can think twice.

The morning rays bring with them a wicked headache that almost has Jungkook throwing up into his bushes. Part of him, the last droplet of reason, tells him he should change. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday and they reek. Furthermore, the sun is hellbent on soaking up every inch of his black clothing.  

He should change if he doesn’t want to suffocate in this heat, under this blazing sun in the sky.

But Jungkook loves the sun.

He walks on.

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[childrenoflight-darkness-nothing]

ppst approved by our fearless leader

caretaker jimmy?

whumpee stephan?

we get this dynamic a lot

mostly i feel in the form of panic attacks. either water or nightmare or claustrophobia or overstimulation based

but seldom to we actually hurt stephan

let's actually hurt him

Stephan

you think he's the level headed think things through mom friend

no

this is a ruse

he is a mom friend

but Jace is his best friend

he is just as reckless and self sacrificing as ey are

Does not in fact give two shits if he lives or dies

The renegades will never fail to have a hero to volunteer for a risky suicidal mission. they've got volunteers to spare

Plus

He's a EMT

he has medical training

Good as Jalev or Skye

so he gets hurt on a mission? He's fine

let's get everyone else sorted then he'll go home

pop some aspirin get a drink

he'll take care of it himself

pass out in bed for a few hours

rinse and repeat as needed till he's good

let's hope he doesn't have early shift the next morning

this is fine. he get's himself sorted out well enough

the wounds will heal nasty but they'll heal

and no one suspects him of being the Strong Reckless I'm Fine Wound Hiding Type

he flies under the radar

Until

He moves in with Jimmy

or jimmy moves in with him

however that goes

And Stephan doesn't get away with things like hiding grievous wounds anymore

this post quickly derailed into just Thoughts that have little to do with the original plot

hold on

Whats better than self sacrifice? self sacrifice for a loved one!

Steph and Jimmy on a mission together

I think... early dating

Not a pining scenario

An you idiot why would you do that scenario

Taking a blow a bullet a knife whatever

covering jimmy right before an explosion

doesn't matter

Choose your cake flavour and eat it too

All that matters is that Stephan is hurt

Severely hurt

Cake? Let's add sprinkles!

They Can't Get Back To Base

having to hole up in a safe house

or finding some lowkey tucked away place to hang low in for a few days while waiting for an extraction team or until Stephan's well enough to travel

There's only one bed

There might not even be a bed

Stephan hurt and wounded and it's just him and jimmy and the few supplies they have on them and whatever they can scrounge for/make out of their surroundings

And Jimmy's fighting PTSD flashes from even being on a mission in the first place

And also stephans dying

Maybe he's not dying but

its still bad

And Jimmy's not Adair or Cyrus or Avanda

Jimmy doesn't know how to help him

And why did Stephan jump in front of him

And Stephan fighting through the pain and his injuries to keep himself awake and alert to at the very least walk Jimmy through everything he needs to do

But it's a struggle

And his vision keeps fading in and out

And his teeth are gritted so hard together he has to hiss his words

And his hands are shaking

And he can't think

And honestly he's more worried about making sure Jimmy's alright. Both physically and mentally. Then trying to work through whatever's wrong with him

[penguinnewsnetwork]

We're Retiring (For Now)

Hi everyone, this is admin Boopenguin here. It has come with both a heavy heart that me and moderator Protoman are retiring from Penguin News Network. We started this blog back in 2017 with the hopes of covering every update Club Penguin Rewritten would release, just like the good old days of Blogspot and Wikipress with the original Club Penguin. The goal was the bring back that nostalgia of reading up insider blogs on catalog secrets and the latest party posts. For the past year though, it's been a battle to find the motivation to even make a post, but we've keep doing it for you guys. However, we just can't keep going with it anymore. Please read this all so you guys can understand.

Protoman and I live on separate parts of the globe (US and the other side of Canada), while Club Penguin Rewritten is run and operated in the United Kingdom. That means when we're both asleep, they tend to update the game (and that's if they update the game when they promise, it seems to be whenever they feel like it.) It has become a chore to cover the game, especially when in recent years we've become so busy with other, more important priorities in life. After awhile, we've felt like we've failed to deliver on our promise to cover any content in the game ASAP, that's kinda hard when we're both asleep.

We've tended to try and keep our personal opinions off this blog for professionalism. However, this is where that ends. Protoman and I are genuinely irritated and frustrated with Club Penguin Rewritten, both the game itself and its development team. There's a lot for us to go over, so I'll cover it in strides. Firstly, the distribution of items. Back when Club Penguin Rewritten first started adding custom items to the game, or bringing forth items for special events, they never directly said that any item would be returning - but it was heavily implied that they were tied to special events. i.e. the Eclipse Glasses were given out to celebrate the 2018 Eclipse that was going on in real life. Or the Red Hard Hat, which was given out originally in 2018 for those who participated in the Club Penguin Rewritten Improvement Project. Both of these items came back with no real rhyme or reason. Especially the Red Hard Hat, which they distributed as a code this year and it is an insult to those who helped build on and improve the game. If you are at all familiar with my penguin's avatar, I've tried to use items that don't appear in the game. When you're running a blog, you need an identifiable appearance. That can't be achieved when the Rewritten team makes everything you wear accessible to the public like free candy. Nothing is rare, and if they say it won't ever appear in the game again, they'll make sure it does appear again. June catalog alone brought back the Side Swept and Sunset Canvas Boots. EDIT: this was announced right after I posted, further proving my point.

Secondly, the development team needs to do better and deliver on their promises. Even before the HTML5 conversion, the Rewritten team has seldom ever delivered on their promises of releasing content on the dates they would list. For example, imagine they announced a Medieval Party starting on March 16th, but it's March 20th now and there's still no party. It's even worse now with them working on converting the game to HTML5. You may say "Cut them a break, they're a small team of people!" in most circumstances that'd be fair, but ever since Protoman and I have been playing this game, they almost ever meet deadlines on anything. Look at the situation right now: Last month they released a Penguin Style catalog with Prehistoric Party-themed items, along with the promise that a Prehistoric Party would be releasing in June. We are 10 days away from July, there's no Prehistoric Party, and there's already a June catalog with Music Jam-themed items and behind-the-scenes posts for Music Jam 2021. They need to stop working on so many things and instead actually deliver what they promise. It's ridiculous and unprofessional. Something as simple as hiring more people could circumvent these problems from even happening, but it seems as though every time they hire someone new - that person gets outed as a sexual predator or doxxes the entire password database. (did I say that out loud?)

The final nail in the coffin for our departure is the inclusion of the Rockhopper's Rare Treasures, the daily login system with ads. Between this and the three core issues I addressed, we cannot continue operating this blog until they themselves can figure out what they're doing with this game. Club Penguin Rewritten is not the same anymore, and it hasn't been for the past year and a half or maybe even longer. It is a chore to cover, and it interferes with our daily lives. We will still play this game, but don't expect us to cover the game anymore.

We at Penguin News Network thank everyone for supporting us these past 5 years. Never had we ever expected this passion project of a blog to reach 879 followers and counting. We are grateful for all of you guys, and especially being able to interact with some of you. If any of you see us in the game, please feel free to say hi! If anyone wishes to keep in touch, you can DM me over on @dantesdomain. I also have a Discord if anyone wants to add me (just ask in DMs here or on my personal account).

As always, waddle on - and thank you.

- Boopenguin and Protoman.

[shit-posts-and-fanfictions]

Fandom: SCP

Rating: Angst/ Mature

Readers Gender: n/a, third-person

Present Characters: Dr. Bright, SCP-590 (TJ)

Trigger Warnings: Depression, attempted suicide, amnesia, forced mental disability, cursing, death by cutting, heavy derealization and depersonalization.

Notes: I been thinkin' about this a lot and my hand just happened to slip on the post button. Summed up, Dr. Bright has the day off and uses it to visit and spend time with his brother.

.

.

This is a suicide fic, please don't read if this could affect you negatively

.

At first, there was light, not welcoming, but all the same as it had been every morning; the only exception for today, being that he didn't have work. It was such a seldom occasion to have even a day to himself like this, sitting up and stretching before collecting clothing for the day and trudging into the bathroom.

He simply used a hand to clear a spot in the fog of the mirror examining his face wondering if his little brother would even recognize him- TJ was happy enough to have the company, but whether or not he had the mental capacity to understand who it was visiting him Jack was unsure... Dressing and not even bothering to put anything away as he left for the day.

~~~

The halls seemed longer than usual. Twisting in ways they should, curling in on itself and stretching to infinite lengths. Was there a breach? No, there were no alarms, no breaches or codes being called, and his fellow researchers walked the lengthy corridor just fine. Speaking of, he smiled half whimsically at them watching his odd behavior. Just Bright being Bright before he continued on his way to SCP-590's TJ's cell.

Jack was hesitant a moment before letting the door slide open and stepping inside the cell, the door falling shut as soon as he walked in. He watched his brother in the corner scribbling absentmindedly on paper humming a broken tune he'd made up himself; Jack glimpsed over the cell walls, taking in any new pictures hung up for display.

He called for his brother, "Tj..." Too quiet. "TJ." Cringing at how out of place his voice felt. Or his host's voice- tucking his amulet under his shirt to protect the younger boy from accidentally touching the object before greeting him with open arms after finally catching his attention. Tj looked at him with squinted eyes, tongue brushing his bottom lip thoughtfully before grinning "hello!" He slurred, racing over to happily accept the embrace. Jack giving a weak smile and humming softly "what're you drawing this time?" Letting his brother tug him along to the table he'd previously been sitting at.

They'd sat for a good few hours, Jack listening to his slurred speech and often not understanding what was stated, but going with it anyway. He'd done this- TJ could hold a conversation so well, but now his vocabulary was limited to basic words and phrases. Being so secluded to himself didn't help his vocabulary either... but nonetheless, Jack sat and listened to every butchered and mispronounced word he had to say, nodding along, laughing, and overall just having a good brother bonding. Sticking around for lunch and eventually leaving when he couldnt hold himself together anymore. Patting his brother on the head while he gave a disappointed pout "you come back?" He hummed, looking up to the stranger before him. "Of course i will, i always do" his brother still seeming upset "last man say that-" and Jack frowned. He said that, Jack said that. He had always been there- of course TJ couldn't understand anymore... turning abruptly and leaving as quickly as he could.

.

.

.

He waited for the door to shut behind him completely before letting his body give out and collapsing against the cold metal. His legs buckled and he slid against the door to the floor slowly allowing sobs to rack through his chest, hiccuping between breaths trying to focus on anything- anything at all to calm his racing thoughts. But everything his blurred vision took in only reminded him more of what pained him. He did this- he had done this to his brother. Ruined his life right alongside his own; Oh why couldn't he just die?

When Jack had finally found the strength to stand, he stumbled to the bathroom, knocking his shoulder on the door frame and catching his balance on the counter. He needed a shower. His skin His host's skin felt uncomfortable. looking down at their hands felt wrong, mind spinning slightly out how unfamiliar he felt to himself. His hair, his eyes, his face, the sound of his own labored breathing was all wrong. He didn't even feel in control of himself anymore, watching from the back of his head mindlessly as they fumbled around the corner, momentarily staring at the razor he had used to shave his stubble this morning. His pinky poking at it thoughtfully, watching it move away from him before reaching for it entirely; Grasping it tightly before making his way to the tub and yanking the shower curtains out of the way only successfully riping them from the rod. Eventually, he settled into the cold porcelain-enameled steel, reaching forward to plug the basin and turn on the water. Cold, Hot, he didn't care. Clothes and all getting soaked as the water rose into his shoes, against his shins, and pooling against his stomach. He half hazardly pulled his tie loose from how hard breathing became, leaning back into the water till the liquid crept up his neck. He inhaled, staring at the ceiling, and for a moment felt blissfully in control.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been laying here, eventually craning his head to watch the water pour over the rim of the tub. His right hand still fiddling with the razor. He'd killed himself a few different ways. Today though, this felt right. Using his teeth to pull up the sleeve of his left arm, moving to trace the razor's blade against his skin, barely breaking the surface and leaving irritated lines in its wake. Eventually though, he pushed harder into the flesh, breaking skin and admiring the blood that dripped down his elbow and painted the water. Back and forth and back and forth, drawing lines deeper and deeper into the skin. He could tell when he hit an artery, shuddering in pain but continuing anyway. Jack only stopped when his vision blurred and his head spun wildly, losing grip on the razor and letting it sink into the tainted water, his arms dropping to his sides. He chuckled quietly, letting his head lull back while he fought the sudden exhaustion he felt. He tried keeping focus on the lights above his sink, watching them swarm between the original four, then eight, then four, then two, then as they blurred together as one and went dark. Letting himself momentarily slip into death's arms and rest at last.

~~~

At first, there was light, not welcoming, not like how it was described in near-death experience stories- It was painfully artificial, forcing Jack to close his eyes, moving to roll over as he recalled recent events with a sullen look. His senses were still coming back to him, blinking till his eyes focused enough, clenching hands till feeling came back to the unfamiliar skin, wading out the numb ringing in his ears till he could hear the vent above him hurdling cold air across the bed. He grimaced tasting nicotine on his new host's tongue, eventually pushing himself up to look around the room and sighing before starting the next day as he always had.

[ravusnightblossom]

3. Who are your longest rp friends? 17. What makes you insecure about your own writing? 18. What is one thing you’d wish to see more in the rp community?

Mun Questions Meme || accepting || @origami-assassin​​

3. Who are your longest rp friends? 

Other than you, you mean? LOL You’ve been here since the beginning, after all. ♥ So has @dcwnseeker whom is darling, and of course mah’ @sanguinepeccatorum ♥  @rexcrystallis, @theplagueofstars, @reiivusu, @bvlgae, @infideliis, and @kaaras-adaar are also a few who have been here since the bare bones of this blog and have been wonderful friends to have.  Outside of this blog, my friends Skitty and Tam are two I’ve written with for what feel like countless years, Discord and other IM platform-based. Tam and I have written together since waaay before Tumblr RP times (Livejournal and AIM, mostly) and are still very close.  Shameless plug-- Everyone should check out her book series if they’re looking for something new to read! A few of my original bbys appear in her Patron content, too.

17.  What makes you insecure about your own writing? 

 Honestly? Everything. I actually loathe my own writing. I’ve tried to love it, but I’m just too insecure about it to manage. That’s part of why I seldom proofread posts; I can’t bring myself to reread it, aside from a quick skim to make certain I’m following plot consistency. Fun fact-- This is also why none of my books have been published yet and are just sitting in Word files on my PC. I recently hired an editor, though, so that will hopefully change soon.  As far as Ravus, specifically, is concerned, I’ve been writing him for so long that sometimes I start to worry if his portrayal is accurate enough. I recently learned the word “woobify” and now I get paranoid that I’m doing that to him, from time to time. Anxiety is a bitch.  

 18. What is one thing you’d wish to see more in the rp community? 

COMMUNICATION and RESPECT. These are two things that have been diminishing more, year by year. If you have a problem with another’s writing, approach them about it, and do so in a nonaggressive manner so it doesn’t feel as if you’re attacking them. No one wants to feel patronized, but everyone wants to know what they can do to improve and maintain healthy writing relationships. REBLOGGING and ACKNOWLEDGING is also another thing that is dying. Reblog the promos you see on your dash! Even if it’s not for you, it might be of interest to someone else. Follow Friday used to be a wonderful act for this, but even that seems to be nearly nonexistent anymore. Half the people on the dash don’t even interact with one another anymore. Like peoples’ headcanons, participate in their development memes! It’s half the experience of being here.        

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Whiskey Pecan Pie

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Arthur isn’t known for being the nicest or gentlest person but a certain girl in the bakery makes him want to be a better person. 

Word Count: 2115

A/N: I finally made it a full length imagine! I don’t know about the ending so feel free to let me know what you think about it. 

___________________________

Arthur was pretty sure he was in love with you. Everything about you made him smile and feel warm inside, which usually only his alcohol could do (and even then, that only made him feel warm). Your sparkling eyes and kind smile were a shining light in the gloom that was Small Heath, a gloom that he felt partially responsible for deep down. But you made him want to be the best possible version of himself. 

Your grandparents had opened a small bakery in Small Heath back in the 1860’s and it had been passed down to your parents who’d raised you up in the business as well. Baking was your life and unlike so many other people your age who’d run from their family businesses as soon as they were eighteen, you couldn’t wait to take over yours. 

But your dream was so much more than the basic breads and cakes that your parents made. You couldn’t wait to add pies and cookies and scones and whatever else you managed to create in that kitchen in the back! 

Today, your newest specialty had been posted up for sale: Have A Berry Good Day Cobbler. A display batch had been made up and set behind the glass of the display case while the three other cobblers sat in the back, ready to be bought up and enjoyed. You couldn’t deny, you were pretty proud of this one. 

You sat behind the counter, nose buried in a book, while you awaited customers while your parents baked bread in the back. The little ding of the bell in the doorway drew your attention to the man who walked in. You smiled, immediately recognizing him as Arthur Shelby. “Good morning, Mr. Shelby.” You smiled, hopping down from your stool and closing your book. 

Your kindness always took Arthur off guard. He was used to surliness and concealed emotions, unless it was anger, but with you, you always seemed to have a spare smile for someone. He eagerly took his hat off, careful to grab around the hidden blade, and stuffed it in his pocket. That was what a gentleman did, right? He couldn’t even remember proper etiquette anymore. 

“Please, call me Arthur.” He insisted, finally having the nerve to make your relationship a little less formal. You made him nervous, drove butterflies wild in his stomach. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling. His life was typically fulfilled by cheap whores which couldn’t even be classified as cheap thrills anymore. Just something to fill the void. But you made it as if the void didn’t exist. He almost felt like he did before the war. 

You smiled, “Alright, Arthur.” God, the way his name sounded leaving your lips was intoxicating. 

The eldest Shelby brother had become a regular in your bakery about a month ago, coming in at least twice a week for one of your original sweets. You had to admit that you’d developed a (not so) slight crush on the man over the course of your interactions. 

Arthur’s reputation preceded him. Everyone in Small Heath knew who the Shelby brothers were and most people were smart enough to not get involved with them. But the eldest one had captured your heart with his daily visits to your shop. His abrasive, hostile front was left at the door with the removal of his cap and his grimace was replaced with a cute upturn of his mustache as he smiled. It was clear by how he tried to hide it that it wasn’t a look he was used to having but your heart skipped a beat every time you saw it. 

“So… what’s the special today?” Arthur ringed his hat nervously in his hands, careful to avoid the blades in the brim. 

You turned around to grab the display dish and showed it to him, “Today I whipped up something I like to call Have A Berry Good Day Cobbler. And, yes, it is necessary to having a good day.” You giggled at your own anecdote and Arthur let out the closest thing to a laugh he was comfortable emitting. Your adorable smile that was somehow proud and humble could’ve made Arthur drop dead then and there from how cute you were. 

“I’m sure if you made it, it’s delicious.” He threw out the compliment, looking at the cobbler that did indeed look delicious, “Everything you bake always is.” 

Crimson burned into your cheeks at the compliment from the attractive man. You had one more surprise for him though beyond the treat of the day, “Awe, thank you. But I’m hoping you think the same about another new treat I made.” 

“Two in one day?” He asked, surprised. Every day since he’d started coming in four weeks ago, he’d only ever known there to be one special pastry per day.

You held up one finger, telling him to hang for just a second, and you smiled excitedly as you turned around and disappeared behind a shelf to grab a plate. In all honesty, you were nervous out of your mind. Was this too forward? Was this going to scare him off? If it worked as you hoped, would you regret it? 

When you returned just moments later, a little tart sat on a small plate in your hands, “This is a little something special I whipped up just for you.” You handed Arthur the plate, your fingers gently sliding across each other as you slid it into his grasp. Your heart sped up drastically at the contact and you glanced up at him quickly to see if he noticed it too only to lock eyes with him for a brief, nervous moment before you both looked away again. 

“You-you made this just for me?” Arthur questioned, staring at the little mystery pastry in his hands in shock. Nobody had ever made a gesture like this for him before. People only did things for him out of fear or obligation but this little tart with a perfectly toasted crust and sweet looking filling was made specially for him out of the kindness of your heart, and dare he go so far to say, affection. 

You watched nervously as Arthur looked down at the little pastry in his hands and then looked up to you with a twinkle in his blue eyes that told you this was something totally out of the ordinary for him but he didn’t seem to hate it. With a smile, you placed your hands on the counter that was between you and leaned all of your weight onto your hands, lifting yourself to stand on your tiptoes as you peered over, “Well, um, yeah. I may be wrong but you look like you might be a man who likes whiskey so I decided to try and make a dessert with you specially in mind. This is a pecan tart with whiskey in the caramel-pecan filling." 

Arthur looked down at the pastry and then back up to see you nervously chewing your lip, though still smiling, waiting to see his response, "That sounds great,” His heart swelled with a strange emotion he’d never felt before, somewhere between utter adoration for you mixed with the unknown feeling of being loved (if he could be so bold as to entertain the thought that a girl as amazing as you could love a man like him), “How much is it?" Arthur reached into his pocket to grab his wallet. In any other store, he never paid. If people didn't give him what he wanted, he threatened them till he got it. But he could never dream of doing such a thing to you. He'd always made it a point to pay you for whatever he'd bought in your bakery. 

You put up your hands, "It costs nothing, Mr. She- erm Arthur. This one's a gift. Besides, you didn't order it anyways." You laughed a little, hand going to cover his hand that was extended with several coins in it, ready to push it away but stopping when your skin touched his for the first time. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Arthur’s skin was similar to how you’d imagined, somewhere between smooth and calloused with rougher spots on his knuckles. 

Arthur had a similar reaction. When he finally felt your soft but thoroughly worked hands on his, he nearly choked on his own tongue. Was this what it was like to actually love a woman? To not just want their body for a few fun minutes? Of course, there was the physical attraction to you that was undeniable but he actually wanted to get to know you. He craved you, all of you - body, mind, and soul. The thought of harm ever coming to you made his blood boil. 

“Please, I insist. Let me give you a few pounds at least?” He begged, not making any effort to move his hand away from yours. He also definitely noticed that you hadn’t retracted your reach yet either. 

A blush crept up on your cheeks, as if they could possibly get any redder when he was around, “Can’t you accept a gift, Arthur?” You insisted, your tone sweet but taunting. 

He sighed and pulled his hand away, “Alright, alright. Thank you for the pie.” He nodded, gesturing to the tart. 

“It’s technically a tart I think but you’re welcome. Let me know how you like it, yeah?” Arthur only prayed that his cheeks weren’t as bright as they felt. The way your kind eyes twinkled with pride in your work made your entire face glow more radiant than it already did. You were so intelligent and kind and giving.

“Everything you make is delicious and I’m sure this is no exception.” Arthur complimented awkwardly, shifting his weight on his feet nervously as he did so. Kindness and compliments were far from his usual vocabulary but he felt the need to make sure you knew how amazing you were. It didn’t mean it came naturally to him though. 

“Awe, you’re too kind.” You looked away shyly, giggling at his amiable gestures. Men had seldom looked at you the way Arthur Shelby did. Other girls were beautiful and oftentimes fairly well off, or at least the ones the boys often chased were. You felt like you were always just there, not necessarily the most beautiful girl in Small Heath, nor the richest. You had your pies and cookies but was that really enough? 

But you were so much more than that. Arthur saw plain as day the beautiful soul you were but he could also see that you didn’t see yourself the way he did. 

“Arthur!” A male’s voice startled the both of you from the trances you’d fallen into, lost in each other's eyes, as a man burst into the bakery, the little bell ringing as he spoke, “Tommy needs us back at the shop.” 

Arthur sighed, “Alright, Finn, I’ll be there in a moment.” The door closed again and the smitten look that Arthur always donned in your presence began to fade away into the harder expression you saw him wear around town. Regretfully, Arthur’s hand fell from yours but his heart ached for it to be back in your grasp, “I guess I should get going. Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Your hand quickly returned to the table, suddenly feeling awkward and wrong now that the warmth of his touch had disappeared, “See you then. Have a good rest of your day, Arthur.” You tried not to sound too disappointed that he had to leave but if you had it your way, he’d stay all day. 

With one last small, nearly hidden smile, and a nod of farewell, he took off out the door, brushing his hair back with his fingers and throwing his cap back onto his head. Now that you were alone, you brushed your hair back and finally released the breath of air you weren’t aware you had been holding. “That wasn’t so difficult, now was it?” You asked yourself rhetorically. Clearly, he didn’t reject it. In fact, he seemed to be quite delighted by the gesture which had to be a good sign, right? You needed to stop worrying so much. 

You pushed yourself back off the counter to begin restocking the loaves of bread when you noticed something on the counter, right where yours and Arthur’s hands had been holding onto each other. Five pounds sat on the smooth wood and you rolled your eyes, chuckling as you took the money that Arthur left despite your insistence that the dessert was a gift and put it in the cash box, “So persistent.”