#message from management

[akookminsupporter]

listen up!

What's the need that some people now have to make me see and understand that Jimin and Jungkook are no longer together, or never were, or that Jungkook is not gay because only a heterosexual man can make women want him, or that Jimin and Jungkook are no longer close, or that the tarot said this or that, etc., etc., etc.? Why am I receiving messages like this more frequently?

And why do I keep getting messages saying that "we" must accept this or that, that "we" must see this or that— who the fuck is 'we'? Why do they keep talking about 'we' as if this is a team effort? If the 20 people who follow this blog and I want to think that Jimin and Jungkook are married with 20 children, we will! It shouldn't concern you! If you don't believe the same or have seen the light, good for you! Wear sunglasses and leave my blog alone!

I don't understand how it affects you that my followers and I think X or Y thing! If you don't like my blog, block me! Stop actively searching for my blog because I don't use tags related to Jikook; many times, I use tags unique to me. So, YOU are actively looking for my blog to… complain?

This 👏 Is 👏 Not👏 A 👏Team👏Effort👏

I don't want or need you to come and tell me why you think or feel that Jikook isn't real or never was or that Jimin and Jungkook hate each other. I DON'T CARE, and I assure you that neither do my followers. You do you and leave us alone.

[rocketbirdie]

deranged picnic

[ryutarotakedown]

hello, magnus protocol fans! are You searching for a transcript of the first episode? do You, despite knowing that there are official PDF transcripts of the magnus protocol on the rusty quill website, wish there were also a handy website format that you can pull up on your phone? perhaps one with a faded yellow background even?

well you're in luck!

enjoy :)

(all credit for the base code goes to @snarp, whose TMA transcript website is the greatest of all time and whose blanket permission i used to clone this repository)

[kazoo-goddess]

So, I've wanted to make a post like this for some time, but I only just got the motivation because of an ask I got recently. I want to give a piece of advice to everyone, in general, to keep in mind when using any social media platform--advice that I wish someone had given me way back when, that I feel is important to pass on:

Not every post you see is for you. Not every post is about you.

This is not meant to be a negative thing, or a put-down! It is not meant to dismiss anyone. It's really what it says on the tin: When you see a post cross your feed, and you disagree with the post or it upsets you because you disagree with the message it has, try and keep in mind that you may not be the target audience for the post. In particular, take this into account for advice and positivity posts--The OP doesn't have anything against you personally when they share words that are meant to be uplifting that you don't agree with. A post that says "Keep going! You can do it, even if you think you can't!" probably isn't meant to put down people who are in a position where they very literally cannot do it or think their way out of their situations. Like this post, it's more likely that the OP is sharing positivity or advice that they themselves would have liked to hear.

Even this post, the one I'm writing now, might not be for you or about you! If you disagree with my viewpoint, that's okay, and there's nothing wrong with that! But I, personally, am writing this post for people who might need to hear it--people like me, who are easily upset or hurt by things they see or hear in passing, whether on the internet or real life. I'm not writing it because I want to spark an argument, I promise.

Posts aren't always meant to spread outside the OP's original circle of followers and friends. But that's a hazard of posting to public social media websites--a joke originally meant to have an audience of 12 people close to you can suddenly explode, getting thousands and thousands of views and reposts and going completely out of the OP's control overnight! It's no one's fault; it's not done maliciously. Sometimes a post or joke just resonates with others. But maybe it doesn't resonate with you--that really is okay! Just try and remember, if it gets under your skin, that it isn't for you. And if it's not for you, it's okay to just ignore it and move on! It can definitely get annoying when it's something you keep seeing over and over from friends and acquaintances reposting it, and I'd never fault anyone for losing their temper over it--but sometimes, just taking a second to remind yourself that you weren't the audience for something can really help calm you down and help you feel better and move on with your day.

While this goes for advice/positivity posts, it also goes for opinion posts! And in this case, to be completely, perfectly clear: I mean harmless opinions. A ship they like that you don't; a tv show they enjoyed that you didn't; a character they really love that you absolutely cannot stand. The kind of opinion you disagree with so much that makes you feel absolutely steaming mad. (Again: This does NOT extend to these things when they go into a genuinely harmful category. No homophobia, no pedophilia, nothing like that. I am talking about harmless, mundane disagreements.)

Maybe you see a post talking positively about a manga that makes you feel ick. The OP more than likely didn't write that post with the hopes that it would reach you specifically just to make you upset! (And if they did, that's rude, and an entirely different can of worms that this post is not about! >_>;) But the post upsets you anyway, even if it wasn't MEANT to. It's understandable, it happens! But the thing is: You don't need to engage with that post if it makes you feel bad! If you have a post blocker, you can block the post or blacklist the tag; if you don't, you may just have to scroll past. It can be so, so, so tempting to try and get in a biting comment in the replies to snap at the OP and tell them, "No, you're wrong, your opinion makes me mad and I don't want to hear it!" Trust me. I know. I get it, because I've been there! But in the grand scheme of things, it's not worth it or healthy to burn yourself out over it. It wasn't for you, and it wasn't about you! And you're better off doing what you can to take care of yourself, and preserving your health and happiness where you can.

I feel like I'm writing this with sort of childish language, and it might feel like I'm talking down to others. But really, I think I'm just writing it in a way that a younger me would have understood and taken to heart if she'd seen it. I hope that, if you read this, you can see it that way too! There's a part of me that feels scared that this post in itself could explode with notes that will be very upset with me for my thoughts on this, whatever their reasons may be, but I wouldn't be making it if I weren't prepared for that possibility. If the message I intend to get out can reach even one person who it can help, then I think that's worth writing it for. Because, I want to reiterate it one more time, because it can be so easy to forget it and get yourself furious in a self-destructive way, sometimes you have to remember:

Not every post you see is for you! Not every post is about you!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

another snippet! my first Flight Rising one, featuring my darling couriers Honey and Grace having a chill time <3

~

If he had to choose his least favorite place in Sornieth, Honey wouldn’t hesitate to name the Southern Icefield. More specifically, port Hillberg.

The ramshackle town nests at the base of the Cloudscrape Crags, near where the continent starts to break apart into the Floes. It’s large, but shabby - tarp and rope holds together half of the buildings. Honey suspects that the residents simply couldn’t be bothered to rebuild time and time again. Sparse vegetation dots the steep landscape, if it could be called one. The dragons who have made Hillberg their home are just as blunt and harsh as the environment.

None of these things are strangers to Honey. Perpetual bad moods and subpar architecture aren’t what makes him dread every delivery to the region.

No, no… it’s the wind. 

The constant, inescapable, Shade-cursed wind. 

It isn’t that Honey doesn’t like wind - oh, he does. He hails from the Windswept Plateau, and spent his happiest years tumbling through gusts and zephyrs. His blood sings in the air. 

Hillberg’s wind, though, is an utter nightmare.

At best, it’s a frigid breeze that even a tundra can feel through their thick coat. At worst, it’s a howling force barreling down from the Crag’s peaks, tearing through Hillberg with a vengeance. It carries biting flurries of ice and sleet with it, leaving a trail of frost and unfortunate frozen creatures in its wake. Everything not bolted down is lost in moments. Hillberg is lashed together and fixed to the earth to withstand the daily barrage. 

It’s so terrible that ropes line the streets for dragons to cling to so as to not be blown away in the gales. Wings are bound, claws are left long for purchase. Hillberg’s larger inhabitants have an easier time of it, but they’re few in numbers. The majority of residents are too small to withstand the greatest winds.

This horrible natural force even has a name - the Crag’s Breath.

Honey wouldn’t give it such a tame title. It’s a roar, a howl, a bellow. It rivals the Crescendo’s outer winds.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to put up with the Breath’s ordeal all that often. Hillberg doesn’t get many deliveries, and Honey isn’t the only courier available on this route. More often than not Honey gets months between trips here - sometimes he gets even luckier when the Breath isn’t howling during his brief stop. 

That luck isn’t holding this time around. 

Honey untenses one of his talons to flex feeling back into his claws. It’s a useless endeavor, of course. It serves him right for not wearing full gloves. He shivers and puts his talon back down, curling his claws into the frozen divots they’ve carved. A gust hits him from the side, and he clenches his leg muscles to keep from staggering.

The wide, desolate landing zone offers no comfort. The frozen ground yields no natural protection from the freezing wind, and the setting sun gives no relief. The gales yank at his apparel, his tail, his tightly folded wings. Honey doesn’t dare imagine what would happen if he opened them.

It’s cold. So devastatingly cold. The chill cuts right to Honey’s bones, and he’s certain that he’ll never be warm again.

During times like these he curses his lifestyle. Being constantly on the wing keeps him fit and light. Not enough fat lingers in his muscles to provide insulation, and his lithe form struggles to withstand the wind. He rarely meets a dragon larger than himself, yet right now he feels no bigger than a fae.

Honey huffs through his nose and glares across the icy field at the lights in the distance. The debris from the Breath and the shadows deepened by the waning sunset cast Hillberg into a darkening haze. Soon all that will be left of it in Honey’s sight are the lights. Those too will vanish as everyone hunkers down to wait out the brewing storm. 

At least the wind doesn’t allow ice and snow to melt on him. The only thing worse than being in the Breath is being in it while wet. 

If only his welcomers would hurry. In Honey’s opinion, the protocol Hillberg has for arrivals - especially inter-regional ones - is absurd. Honey always has to wait an hour or more before they lead him into town, and more importantly, shelter. He wouldn’t mind it if the Breath wasn’t active, but at this rate he really will freeze in place. At least Hillberg would have a shiny new statue for their proverbial doorstep. 

In truth, though, Honey is being dramatic. Even if he was forced to wait all night, he’d survive. It would be long and miserable, but he would make it to sunrise. It isn’t him that he’s worried about.

It’s his assistant, Grace. 

Honey crouches lower and cranes his neck to try and peer into his scarf. His slush-smeared goggles blur everything into indistinct shapes and monochrome colors. He shoves his nose into the scarf and snuffles - he can smell her, he thinks, but she hasn’t moved in some time.

“Grace,” he grunts. The wind snatches his words away, and he says louder, “Grace!”

Tiny talons push his snout, and he pulls back. Grace peeks out from the navy folds to peer up at him. Getting a read on her expression is impossible - the helmet and goggles betray nothing. Despite how sheltered she is, the wind still snags at her frills and presses them around her face. 

“Hanging in there?” Honey yells.

Through the blur, she nods.

“Still warm?”

Grace makes a show of shrugging before burrowing back down. She squirms further down into the scarf to rest where Honey’s neck meets his chest. Hopefully both the scarf and the thick arctic coat provide enough insulation for her, along with her own matching apparel. Not enough of his own body heat will seep through - staying warm is up to her. Still, Honey wishes that he could tuck her into his jacket. 

Honey shakes out his frosty mane and casts another look at the vanishing town. The guideropes staked into the ground leading there dance in the wind, empty. 

Please, he thinks as a violent tremor wracks his body. He lifts a talon and immediately lurches forward - he slams his haunches down and angles against the wind. He rests the lifted talon over Grace. The faint press of her eases the knot in his ribs, though it won’t entirely untangle until they’re both out of the cold and warming by a fire.

It was a harsher trip than usual, getting here. Usually the route takes them along the Floes, where they can rest at established checkpoints along the way. But the first checkpoint had directed Honey to make one continuous arcing journey over the ocean to Hillberg. Why, he doesn’t know yet. There was some sort of issue. 

What he does know is that he’s beyond exhausted. Flying for so long unbroken is well within his capabilities, but it isn’t fun. Not to mention that the transition into Hillberg airspace had nearly knocked Honey out of the sky. The battle to the landing field almost did him in - his limbs almost gave out upon landing. Only half of his current trembling comes from the weather.

As soon as they’re in the hanger, Honey is sure to collapse and sleep for hours. It will set back their schedule, but it’s a much needed rest. Especially so if they can’t take the Floes for the return trip.

Honey hunches his shoulders higher. At least his folded wings protect the courier satchels. It would be horrific if the straps broke or the clasps came undone. Dozens of letters, documents, and parcels all spilling out and whisking away into the sea… Honey’s next tremor isn’t so much of a shiver as it is a shudder. He might throw himself into the ocean after them if that happened.

Frantic tapping against his talon shakes him from his thoughts. Honey’s eyes snap open and focus on Grace, who’s frantically waving and pointing. He follows her gaze and relief soars in his ribcage. 

A tundra slowly struggles towards them in the growing darkness. They’re big and burly for their breed, though that must be the uncountable pounds of fur covering their body. They remind Honey of the giant shaggy goats he sometimes sees while flying over the Icefield. 

The tundra stops, gripping the thick rope with both claws as they angle themself into the wind so that they’re nearly sideways. Their fur billows around them. When Honey lifts his head, the tundra jerks their own towards Hillberg. They carefully turn around to make the return journey.

Thank the Windsinger.

Honey helps nudge Grace back down to safety, and they spend a moment making sure she’s secure. Once they start walking, Honey won’t be able to spare her a moment of attention - he’ll be too busy staying upright. 

The Breath gusts under and around Honey as he stands, filling the new openings. He curses and stumbles. One talon slips on an icy patch, nearly sending him to the ground. In any other situation, Honey would be embarrassed about shuffling forward with his hindquarters still tucked. It must look ridiculous, but it’s the most stable position. 

Honey moves as quickly as he can manage, though even that is still slower than he’d like. It only takes a few minutes to catch up with the tundra. They don’t seem to be struggling, which is expected of an experienced Hillberg resident. Still, it can’t be easy.

“Would you like assistance?” Honey yells over the howling wind. The tundra looks up at him, and he moves the wrist of his wing away from his body to open up a pocket the tundra could climb into. 

They regard him for a moment through their own goggles, then at the long path ahead. They nod. Honey crouches as low as he can and angles his wing to create a buffer from the wind. The tundra lets go of the rope and flings themself at him, clinging to his thickly-padded shoulder. They clamber into the offered pocket and press up against his side, their fur frigid against the seam of his wing. Once they seem secure, Honey closes his wing tight and continues the trek. 

Each stride gets slower, and Honey’s legs tremble more with every one. The lights grow brighter and streak across his goggles, incandescently blinding him. The path curves up as he heads to the mountain-carved bunker.

This isn’t the worst weather he’s withstood, Honey reminds himself. Yes, it’s freezing. No, he can’t feel his own body anymore. But when has that ever stopped him? He has deliveries to make, including two lives tucked against him.

The icy soil finally gives way to an equally cold stone plaza. Honey staggers across it to the huge door. Carved stone and wood arc into an overhang, jutting directly out of the foothills and offering very little relief from the Breath. The hanger is the only area entirely safe from the wind -  something carved into the earth itself can’t be blown away. 

Honey slams his shoulder against the thick heartwood door, tough as iron and sturdy as the Crag. He leans desperately against it, flagging fast. 

Eternal seconds drag by.

Snowflakes gather in Honey’s exposed fur. 

The sun’s final light fades from the horizon.

The door shudders, groans, and lifts. The horizontal slats fold into the roof, and Honey yearns for the firelight spilling from inside. Only a couple more steps, now. Only another minute or two.

Honey squeezes through as soon as the door lifts enough for clearance. He slips into a long, warm hallway ending with the glow of a roaring fireplace. The door slams back down behind him, nearly landing on his tail. The door locks into place.

The abrupt silence almost hurts. Honey blinks hard and tosses his head against the ringing in his ears. The crackling of embers is barely audible. 

A tap against his side - ah, right. Honey uncurls his wing to let his passenger out, wincing at his frozen stiff muscles. The tundra jumps to the floor and shakes themself out. Ice crystals fly from their fur to shower the ground in glittering bits. 

“Thank you,” the tundra says, her voice clear in the hall’s calm. When Honey inclines his head, she butts her head against his wing and inhales deeply before trotting down the hall. He hopes she remembers his scent as an ally. 

“We’re in the clear,” Honey murmurs into his scarf as he pushes himself forward once more. Just a little further.

Grace clambers out of his scarf. She shakes herself before launching into the air, flitting in Honey’s blurry peripherals and performing complex acrobatics. That’s one way to warm herself. 

Only part of the bunker’s warmth reaches Honey, and he still feels frozen. His apparel crunches with every step. The stone floor seems to burn under his talons, even though it’s surely cold. Grace perches on his unbroken antler as they enter the bunker proper.

There aren’t many dragons inside, shockingly enough. The tundra he already met is settling into cushions set up by the circular fireplace. Three more tundras lounge about, along with a ridgeback that looks Arcane, a young guardian brooding in the corner, a pearlcatcher who already seems set on ignoring him, and a few specks that may be faes or spirals. Perhaps both.

Not that any of this matters much to Honey. He only has eyes for the empty cushions surrounding the blazing hearth. He stumbles towards it even as his vision tunnels until only the bright firelight remains. 

Just a little further.

A few more steps.

One more…

Honey is unconscious before he hits the ground. 

[corvidaedream]

this is your semi-regular reminder, especially now that people are going on vacation and may find themselves somewhere like disney or a living history site or any sort of attraction where you may encounter an employee in a costume:

If You Wouldn't Touch Someone You Just Met In A Certain Way, Don't Touch An Employee In A Costume That Way Either

i don't mind when im offered a handshake or a little kid hugs me at the end of a tour. hell, i don't even mind if your bachelorette party asks if i want to join a group hug for a photo.

but im a person! the tinkerbell you see at disney is a person! the milliner at colonial williamsburg is a person! my coworker portraying an enslaved woman is a person! the clothes we are wearing are our work outfits, our bodies are our bodies. you do not get to treat us differently because of the photo op you want, or because you caught a glimpse of historical undergarments that intrigues you, or because you think that we, as workers, cannot say no to you without getting in trouble.

Treat Everyone You Encounter As A Person, And Don't Touch My Fucking Stomach

[izzy-b-hands]

Just submitted a new patient request to Anchor Health. Cross your fingers for me, so I can get set up w/a doc I can stick with who can handle my T and PCP stuff and maybe even mental health stuff? (their website let me mark all three as things I wanted them to provide care for at least)

and the poor local PP can get back to trying to help others without me taking up any more of their scarce resources and staff

[mwagneto]

yknow posting about gomens 4-5 years ago it never even occured to me that we'd get a season 2 and I'd be forced to read those posts back but now i'm genuinely curious what 3-5-however many years from now me will feel backreading this month(s?)-long post-s2 mental breakdown. hi i hope im doing ok out there

[thatswhatsushesaid]

actual excerpt from a teams chat with my manager this morning

[moonlit-imagines]

??? i think my main job fired me ???

[just-osgood]

.

[bizarrebazaar13]

10. How do they bring out the worst in each other? for Alexandria and The Mananger

god dammit. you know me too well.

Alexandria is incapable of letting people go, even to the detriment of everyone involved. the Manager can’t/won’t give him the kind of relationship he wants at the moment, but he can’t move on from the manager either, so they’re in a weird in-between space.

also, Alexandria being in this relationship at all is hypocritical. she’s an established anti-monarchist, pro-workers rights, stresses the importance of good communication to her crew members, and has experienced some horrible parts of the Royal Bethlehem firsthand. and yet.

as for the Manager, I think Alexandria brings out the part of him that always thinks he knows best. it comes from a genuine desire to protect people, and Alexandria does end up in dangerous situations fairly often, but it ends up manipulative and obsessive. for example, a lot of the time, Alexandria can make light of the Manager following him around, but sometimes it does cross the line. and that line is very vague because neither of them are willing to actually have a conversation about boundaries!! god. they drive me crazy <- the one who literally made this dynamic up in cer own head

[widevibratobitch]

Red Pill Misogyny But Make It Funny: The Opera my beloved <333

[corvidaedream]

my review of love lies bleeding: im screaming crying throwing up, had a fantastic time, i love when terrible people are in love and ruin everything, foley work was 10/10

[we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono]

Hey girly! I hope you are having a great day!

Sending you some ✨✨💜

aw thank you !! you’re melting my heart! i hope you have a great day/night too 💖

[akookminsupporter]

Listen.

It's funny how many decided to overlook the fact that Jimin and Jungkook were talking about which one of them smelled of alcohol, which probably means that they both drank the day before, maybe together and focused on them also saying "It is you?" to conclude that they haven't seen each other for a while, they're not that close anymore, they got divorced and I don't know what else.

I am going to say this one more time and I hope it will be the last. I don't care if you don't believe in jikook anymore. I have no intention of reading your long-winded Asks telling me why you don't believe they are together anymore, why you don't believe they are no longer close or why you never believed they were. I'm not interested. I only read the first line and that's enough for me to decide whether to block or delete your Ask.

And no, don't come crying or go crying to other blogs about how I don't accept opinions different from mine, this is not a democracy! I accept whatever I damn well please. I accept opinions different from mine but I decide what those opinions are.

If you don't think jikook is real or never was, good for you. Seriously, I'm happy for you but I don't care. I think it's more than clear what my blog is about, so it's stupid for you to think I'm going to agree with you and if you post your Ask to vent, I'm happy to tell you that this is not a forum for opinions, I and most likely my followers are not interested in what you have to say. So, stop sending me those kinds of Asks because I will just delete them and in some cases, block them.