#iv. thread : tulip | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tmmyrp · 3 years ago

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hi everyone, tommy here! not tmmyrp, but tommy aka bell from metfell's system. I run tmmyrp and have for a year now! that's pretty fucking crazy like holy shit. i didn't expect this silly roleplay blog to turn into one of my favorite projects ive ever worked on, and i've been able to do it with some of my best friends!!

ive been having creative burnout with tmmyrp for a bit. now- now before you get all fuckin concerned n shit i'm not stopping the blog!! i just thought id let you all know. me n fern- our cranboo- are a bit more active on latenightmining right now, since this blog's plot has pretty much been resolved in a way im happy with. i'm still gonna be roleplaying on here, but i'm moving away from any huge serious conversations. there will be a few more, there's still some stuff id like to resolve with songbird, and of course october and november 16th are coming up. but overall i want tmmyrp to finally have some peace. he's okay now, he's happy. so send asks prompting him to go hang out with tubbo or techno or wilbur or quackity or even phil- hell even ranboo we can figure that out!! ask him about his knitting and sewing projects, his favorite things he's made and favorite places to go. ask him about his favorite time of day or weather or give him an idea for something to do! he's here to have fun :)

we've had so much fucking fun and so many memories. there was the start of finding gertrude, carving pumpkins with songbird, ranboo dying and dream escaping, the gala, getting tulip, ranboos SECOND death leading to the creation of petalsbrough with tubbolul, the shapeshifting or stress shitting lol, the reconciliation with technoblade, getting to interact with casinoroyale and then bring charlie back home to him, live roleplaying while the queen died, exile 2 and the scary shit with bestnightmares, when bestnightmares got fuckin terminated mid thread and it was so goddamn funny everyone lost their minds, tommy locking beeduo in a room to sort their problems out, tommy embracing puffy making him the server therapist and trying to therapize people but needing it more than anyone, the way everything changed november 28th and bedrockverse branched out to be its own little thing.

i love everything ive written with everyone, and its kind of crazy that this is my first experience roleplaying ever. there's nearly 1000 of you now, and i don't know what i have planned for the anniversary! im writing this a couple days early because i got so emotional. you've all seen me grow and get better at writing and now i feel so satisfied with the product ive made here with everyone else. it's a group effort, we all worked so hard trying to make something memorable, something that represents how much we love these characters from this silly minecraft roleplay server.

you all mean the fucking world to me <3 sorry i'll be a bit less fuckin sappy and emotional n shit uh. women primes fuck you get bitches die. or something.

#bedrockverse

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dimensions-duelists · 6 years ago

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@lightpinkrhapsody (( to shark from other thread~ ))

IV smiled blushing just faintly at the kiss,he made him feel more confident. “Shark…i…” he gulped. “I missed you..we haven’t spoken much..”He..felt the need to bring him close,to whisper….them words he should have before.

“H-here..” He offered more flowers from behind his back,waiting for Sharks reaction.”

Tulip Red– Declaration of Love Ambrosia– Your Love is Reciprocated

Tulip Variegated– Beautiful Eyes Tulip Yellow– There’s Sunshine in Your Smile

Butterflies and joy ran though IV nervously waiting his shark rection- wait? his? only if shark wanted to be with him o-of course!

#>w<!!!

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the-stick-scribblers · 6 years ago

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Dragon Whiskers

Love is found in the silence, after.

Curtains striped with baby blue and white chevron crinkle where they drape onto the floor, next to linoleum speckles in clusters like toys in a bin. Silver instruments line the wall, sharp, dull, confusing, repeat. Arielle's gown, with its dollhouse clasps and cartoon rainbows, repeats too. It covers her knees underneath the blanket, the smallest size they had clean when we arrived early yesterday morning for her rushed admittance. A loose thread from the hem tickles my thigh; I hold my breath and shift in slow motion, until the tickle disappears. Thankfully, Arielle's pale eyelashes stay glued to her cheeks by sleep.

The whole room is maybe twenty by sixteen, and made of patterns, as if by surrounding us with them will force being here to make any more sense. Or maybe I'm projecting. Forty hours awake and counting - I can't trust myself at all right now.

Primera Point Hospital is not a children's hospital, but they do host the world's leading team for researching all the things no one knows yet about the body. Like why people dream. Or the point of the whole human micro-biome. Or why our cellular damage accelerates faster and faster each year until we reach a tipping point in mortality. Or why some people don't make it long enough to tip over.

Recurrent metastatic cancer of the brain. In a three-year-old. What's the fucking point of it all?

Fucking God.

Dr. Simian broke the news to us one at a time, because someone needed to stay with Arielle; even with the IV-induced sluggishness, she's smart, and hospitals are a scary enough world before all the big words start getting tossed around. James went first. Through the little door window, I watched him push his hair back with his hands and leave them there, the time-old posture of bewildering grief. He looked wrecked. Twenty minutes later he came back in with two coffees and a steely sort of vacancy that reminded me of when my childhood home flooded in the desert, a miracle all the more devastating for breaking from the pattern. He's the crier. I'm the one who holds it in for the shower. Or, he was. I was.

How do you tell a baby she's going to die?

You can't. Or at least, James can't. He's gone home to pack a real suitcase and to retrieve my Kindle that I forgot in the chaos and to update the family (and to cry some more in private, I'm sure, the only reason I envy him the drive). Andrew is staying with Noah so he doesn't miss any school while we stay with Arielle in the city. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days, but Summer is an angel and before I could finish explaining the change she already had meal plans for the extra mouth made a full month in advance, the first easy thing since Arielle's headaches came back. Summer sent me a picture just as I was laying down with Arielle for a nap - Andrew and Noah, half blurry, running laps around the big granite fountain at the top of the field. It looked so sunny, I wept again. Andrew looked so happy. None of this is fair; we should be there with him.

Arielle's sleepy face is flushed, lips pursed, and it's a small stretch for my tired imagination to bundle her up in her monkey hat and stroller with the broken cup holder and take her to the park with me. We stop at the gate, first, to re-attach a wandering sneaker, and to look at the new tulips; we stay there for ten minutes making the other stroller-parent duos go the long way around. I always apologize, but Arielle's limited attention is reserved for things her size or smaller.

Next stop is to chase a bug, Arielle toddling over the grassy hill in earnest pursuit while I sit on the warm garden wall and cheer her on. In contrast to my own coffee-fueled weariness, she is her own battery pack, glowing bright and indiscriminately joyful at each new stop on the hill. It seems she could run forever. But in the funny, honest way of babies, when she does decide she's tired it's all at once, once she's tripped and discovered the grass is a soft place to land. I scoop her up and tuck her back into the stroller, brushing off an errant leaf to the soundtrack of her sleepy breathing. We meet up with James and Andrew at the fountain, where they've been drawing uninspired, brilliant suns all over the place in chalk, to make up for its lack in the late day sky.

Where the real sun is missing, however, are kites - bag kites and classic diamonds and kites that look like they airplanes and kites that look like they have wings and dragons with tails strung with bows that match the lopsided ones in Arielle's hair. Dozens of them fly against the clouded sunset, soft and fierce and eager in turns. Their colorful shadows cast colorful lights onto the sidewalk and stain the people watching like glass. It's breathtaking. I want to wake Arielle up to see, although if I do she'll never make it to dinner without a tantrum.

“Mommy?"

“Good morning, dove.” My eyes open and I pretend they were never closed, banishing the joyful spectacle of color in favor of reality. I press my lips against Arielle's dark hair, full of static from the hospital sheets, escaping in every wild way from her pigtails. God, I love her so much. “Did you have a good nap?"

"No."

"I'm so sorry to hear that." I wipe a piece of hair away from her eyes and use the corner of my sleeve to clear away a bit of lingering lunch by her mouth. "Do you feel better now that you're awake?"

"No."

My toes clench, the only part of me she won't notice. I file it away to tell the doctors later. "Did you have bad dreams?"

"No."

"Did you have any good dreams?"

Her eyes light up, and I savor it. "Yes!" She thinks, then announces very with great seriousness. "I dreamed...I dreamed about dragons."

"Oh! Were you a dragon too?" I remember the park and the ribbons in her hair. What a coincidence that would be.

"No," she says, and gives me a look that says I should know her better by now. "I was a Arielle."

#creative writing #flash fic #short story #amwriting #writing #danzer writes

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libidomechanica · 3 years ago

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#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #147 texts

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