#two entries in a day

[the-most-sublime-fool]

Then, too, at sea—to use a homely but expressive phrase—you miss a man so much. A dozen men are shut up together in a little bark, upon the wide, wide sea, and for months and months see no forms and hear no voices but their own, and one is taken suddenly from among them, and they miss him at every turn. It is like losing a limb. There are no new faces or new scenes to fill up the gap. There is always an empty berth in the forecastle, and one man wanting when the small night watch is mustered. There is one less to take up the wheel, and one less to lay out with you upon the yard. You miss his form, and the sound of his voice, for habit had made them almost necessary to you, and each of your senses feels the loss.

—a sailor's diary entry, on losing a shipmate, ca. 1834 (from Two Years Before the Mast by Richard Henry Dana Jr.)

[waywardsunlight]

Underrated Owl House Glowup

[timdoubleyou]

i found jay’s black jacket (an ID guide)

This black jacket is worn by Jay about 9 times throughout Marble Hornets, including his final appearance. And after some weeks of on-and-off research, I think I know the exact make and model.

This post will detail exactly how I found it, and serve as a guide for anyone that wants to find the jacket, whether that's for cosplay purposes, or if you're just keen on collecting items related to MH.

Main post under the cut

Intro

The first step to identifying the jacket was to gather as many references as possible.

I went back to the web series and took screenshots from any entries the jacket makes an appearance. (shoutout to mg549′s very comprehensive MH wardrobe guide, without it this would’ve been much more of a pain)

Jay's jacket is, for the most part, very plain. It's a solid color, full-zip jacket, without any particularly eye-catching logos or other details. I had to look for moments where even the slightest distinction appeared clear on camera, at least as distinct as it can be. Even if it was just close-ups to get the shape of a zipper, or how many buttons are on a sleeve, it was the best I got. While I did manage to find a decent amount of these, there was just one crucial detail that would've made finding it near-impossible; the brand is never shown. Thankfully, I had another resource.

In 2018 Troy Sold a Lot of Stuff

In early 2018, Troy officially announced that MH would be continued in a comic series. To fund the first issue, he held a number of auctions for production items used during the web series on Ebay.

These included items such as Jay’s camera, Brian’s hoodie, A Masky mask, and Jay’s black jacket.

Lo and behold, the jacket listing includes a picture with the brand in clear view. It's from Gap.

Ebay does not archive sold listings older than 90 days. However, Worthpoint, a website for valuing and pricing collectibles, does. Using Worthpoint I was able to find all of these items, (and a lot more, which can be found in this doc I submitted to Archive Hornets)

Identification

With the picture from the listing and the series screencaps, I had a complete ID list.

(Top image is from the Ebay listing, with the contrast adjusted a little for easier viewing. The bottom two images are from Entry #79)

The Gap logo (This specific logo dates the jacket being made anywhere between 1986 and 2009, when it first appears).

Front Zipper (Note the shape)

The two front pockets

The two buttons and pointed cuffs on each sleeve (Second one is a little hard to see but it's jusstt peeping out at the side)

The blue piping in the inner lining

The zipper in the right side inner lining

The gray mesh inner lining

With these in mind, I could now go to the next and longest step-

Finding the Jacket

I combed three resell sites; Ebay, Depop, and Poshmark. My main goal wasn't to actually purchase the jacket, (although, I would like to at some point) but to find a jacket listing that had every identifier, and have a more definite baseline for finding others. I needed to be sure what I had was enough to properly ID the jacket. The references I had stitched together were decent enough, but I wanted to see if there was something better out there.

After tons of page scrolling and tab-switching and comparing and contrasting, I finally got lucky.

(first two images are from crashthecloset's listing on poshmark, last six are from shannfo-76 on ebay)

I haven't bought one myself as of posting, but I feel pretty confident this is it. The jackets were already sold, but every marker seemed to be accounted for. It also revealed new ones, like the reflective pattern and pockets on the inner lining, (zipper on the right side pocket, button on the left pocket) and the materials tag.

With that, here's some final notes that may be helpful if you try looking for the jacket yourself:

Online sellers often describe it as a light jacket, a windbreaker, a 2-in-1, or 3-in-1.

"Gap Mens Black Jacket" is the search phrase I used the most since it yielded a (very) broad result pool.

Most of the jackets I found came from Poshmark or Ebay.

The exact size of Jay’s jacket is unclear. My best guesses are either a US Men’s S or M, since Jay was pretty skinny and of average height. I’ve only been able to find maybe 2 jackets that are a size M, one of which is the first pic in the photoset above.

Gap has sold other black jackets that look remarkably similar to Jay’s, and they do pop up on resell sites. One of these was so similar, the only discernible difference was the style of the logo. I highly recommend making sure it matches the exact one Jay had before purchasing. (It's also more than fine to ask/msg me if you have any doubts!) As long as you know what to look for, you shouldn’t have a problem finding at least one.

One detail that confounded me was this sleeve poking out of Jay's jacket. At first I thought he was wearing a long sleeve underneath, making this shot a continuity error since he appeared to Only be wearing the green short sleeve under the jacket.

@hivemite pointed out that this might be a two-in-one jacket, which has multiple layers for different types of weather. While I have not been able to see the sleeve outside of two shots in entry #79 and #80, one listing I found did describe it as a 3-in-1.

that's about it! hope this helps :)

[tumbly-s]

Trigun body horror week day 5 — LIMBS

[pcktknife]

ok tell me some basic gen 5 facts

victini was designed with the intention of appealing to female players

[mumpsetc]

OJ Burns Paintbrush a CD

[deathberi]

Meet our Barbie and Kens! ✨

[frogndtoad]

birding is such a silly hobby to be a beginner at. like yeah ive been getting really into looking at the world around me lately. im not very good yet but with practice i hope to get better!!!

[b4kuch1n]

crumbs in your bed

transcript

[saintirulan]

your girl has to wake up at 7 am tomorrow to go to the penis festival, but she stayed out with random ass people until 2 am 🫨✌🏻 who would have thought socialising was so fun diwjuwbwuq

[princelancey]

Countdown to 150 | race 59/150 ¦ 2019 Mexican GP

[glaivenoct]

NyxNoct prompt! “Do you ever think about us?”

Across This Life & The Next Rating: T Words: 2,234 Tags: Mindless Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Late Night Convos, Existentialism

Summary: “Ignore what I said. About other universes and all that. I’m just restless.”

“You are the most honest when you’re restless usually.” Nyx says, running a thumb over the knuckle of Noct’s pointer finger. “I don’t think it’s all that crazy, though.”

“You don’t?” Noct tilts his head on Nyx’s shoulder to look up at him.

Between the ocean and the stars, Noctis and Nyx ponder the concept of lifetimes beyond their current one.

(Notes: This prompt has been collecting dust for actual YEARS, but better late than never right?)

--

“Do you ever think about us?”

Nyx pauses in his steps, tilting his head to one side and blinking curiously at Noctis’ back. The Prince sits near the edge of the lighthouse’s balcony, comfortably bundled by a large blanket around his shoulders, legs slipped through the metal bars so his slippered feet dangle casually through the brisk night breeze. He stares out at the gentle flutter of the Cygillian’s ocean waves as though he’s mesmerized by the constant push and pull, or perhaps the way the moonlight speckles across the surface like a treasure trove of diamonds. 

Nyx stands a mere few steps from Noctis’ side, eyes stuck on his back and the sway of the ends of his dark hair in the wind. It’s far beyond a suitable bedtime for either of them, but Nyx can’t seem to find the will to bother trying to urge Noctis back to bed with him. Not on a night like this where he can take in the captivating view with an equally captivating Prince. 

“About us?” Nyx repeats, pulling his hands from his hoodie pockets as he takes those last few steps. He sits down next to Noctis, crossing his legs under himself. “Not sure if I’m following you, Noct.”

Noctis purses his lips and makes a contemplative hum. His head tilts slightly back, eyes following the horizon, to the stars, and then the moon. 

“Like...” There’s a subtle pinch between his brows. “Do you think there’s other universes out there… and that we’re in them together?”

Nyx’s lips part as he processes Noctis’ questions in his head. There are few things or people that are occasionally capable of leaving Nyx speechless and lacking some form of sharp wit in a relatively quick manner. Of course, Noctis is one of those people and he’s just done it again. Nyx finds himself stuck between two different gut reactions: a soft but fond laugh or simply asking Noctis if he’s okay. 

He smiles fondly instead, bumping Noct’s shoulder with his. 

“What kind of comics have you been reading lately?”

(The rest on ao3) (Reblogs would be really, really appreciated <3)

[theflyindutchwoman]

| CHENFORD WEEK  •  DAY 5 : LOVE LANGUAGES DAY Taking pictures and making videos as a love language, Chenford style : a peak inside their camera roll

Bonus : #when making cute pictures/videos is not enough to show your love #go bigger

[cyrannus95]

*wakes up in a cold sweat* jonathan harker is a meow-meow because the master of the house held the door open when he wanted out but then he decided to stay in

[tathrin]

A little moment that might take place between the pages of this Fellowship AU, featuring Celebrimbor's return to Moria after being re-embodied in the last years of the Third Age.

For the Whumptober prompt "Like crying out in empty rooms; with no one there except the moon."

The Fellowship slept around him, their breath echoing like drums off the empty stones of Khazad-dûm. Celebrimbor rose and crossed the room on noiseless feet, his heavy cloak clutched tight around his shoulders. He passed between his companions unnoticed by any save for Frodo, whose turn it was on guard; Frodo caught his eye quizzically as Celebrimbor paused on the threshold of the hall, but did not speak.

Celebrimbor was not sure how to explain, especially succinctly enough to avoid waking the others; and they needed their rest, after the swift pursuit of the wolves and the terrible thing in the water and the long, long march in the dark.

He hesitated, searching for the words by which he might answer Frodo's unspoken question; but before he could craft them, Frodo nodded in silent understanding and offered him a nod and a thin, sad smile.

Celebrimbor blinked, and managed somehow to force himself to smile back, although he knew it did not reach his eyes; then he turned his back on the Ring-bearer and stepped out into the darkness of the empty, echoing Mines.

It was so strange, to walk through Khazad-dûm in the dark. All the many times that Celebrimbor had come here before, the great underground caverns had been lit by clever mirrors that channeled sun- and moonlight down into the depths of the mountains; by great lamps of glass and crystal that hung from the tall stone ceilings and cast light of soft and marvelous color across the pale grey stones until one felt as though one walked within a geode or a rainbow.

Celebrimbor was not used to seeing these great halls dark, but he did not lose his footing; did not lose his way. Even lightless, he knew these rooms of stone too well to trip or stray within them.

He knew them well, and so he mourned them.

He mourned each crack that marred the walls, each chasm that broke the floors, each empty room where once light and life and noise had been. He mourned each dwarf that had ever walked here, every craft they had ever forged or might have forged in lost days that never came.

He mourned his friends.

He mourned his lover.

He walked into the dark, alone, and his broken heart screamed into the hollow silence.

On the far side of the lightless hall a doorway stood open, its wood long gone to rot or scavengers. Celebrimbor stepped across the threshold and stopped, staring, at the sight before him. A single shard of mirror remained somewhere in the walls above, tilting a sliver of cold moonlight out upon the floor, and by its feeble glow Celebrimbor could see the empty workshop that had once rung with laughter and with hammers and with song.

He moved forward as though in a dream, his feet carving a shallow path through the dust that carpeted the smooth stone floor but making no sound; he moved like a shadow, like the ghost of one already dead, and he left nothing but sorrow in his wake.

He had been dead for so long, now; dead, while all he loved was dying for his sins and for his folly and his love.

He had loved Ost-in-Edhil, and he had invited its murderer to come within its walls; had welcomed the Enemy to make himself a home there, in their city and in their hearts. He had loved Khazad-dûm, and he had not been here to help guard the Doors he had helped craft; the Doors that had not been enough to keep it safe. He had loved his smith-craft, and had allowed his pride and grief and folly to turn that skill to darkness and to evil; had forged things of beautiful destruction with his own two hands, like his grandfather before him.

He had loved Narvi, and been able to do nothing but watch and weep as mortality stole that one true and good bright love from him; he had loved Narvi, and yet his love had turned to grief so bitter that it could only be classed as a betrayal.

He had loved Annatar, and in so doing he had doomed them all.

Celebrimbor sank to his knees before the worn stone workbench where he had once annealed starlight into silver; where Narvi had once forged moon-silver into magic. He pressed his hands against the stone, feeling the chips and pockmarks left behind by all their tools; but he could not feel the warmth they had once conjured there. The forges here had long gone cold; and Narvi was longer dead.

Narvi was so long dead.

And Celebrimbor was, once again, alone.

He folded down low upon the floor and pressed his face into his hands and he wept and wept until his voice gave out, and still he was alone. The pale sliver of reflected moonlight swam before his eyes like a band of bright ithildin, but there was no one here to forge the metal; and no words that could ever do justice to the weight of grief upon his heart regardless. It mattered not what he might say: Narvi was dead, and could not hear him.

Narvi was dead, lost to whatever dreams Mahal kept for his dwarves; lost to Celebrimbor now and to the breaking of the world. Narvi was gone, and a sliver of Sauron's soul called to Celebrimbor now softly from within that terrible band of gold that Frodo bore. Narvi was gone, and Sauron was here, and Celebrimbor was alone with no comfort but the cold and careless eye of a distant moon. Tilion did not look down on him in mercy; Tilion did not look down on him at all. He was alone.

There was only the darkness of once-bright Khazad-dûm, and the aching sorrow of Celebrimbor's shattered heart as he wept into his empty, shaking hands.

"Celebrimbor?"

The voice was soft, little more than a whisper; for a moment, it sounded like Annatar, and Celebrimbor froze, his tears choking-off wetly in his throat. His tattered soul twisted, cold and sharp against his bones. His spirit reached out, yearning still for the remembered comfort so often offered that lovely voice; it recoiled, fearful and burning with hate, from the memory of its own destruction at the speaker's hands.

"Celebrimbor, are you there? Are you all right?"

Celebrimbor drew a shuddering breath and lowered his hands. It was not Annatar—Sauron—who spoke now, he realized; was not the architect of his destruction, but rather Frodo, the small Hobbit who had all the bravery that Celebrimbor lacked and who had volunteered to carry the Ring that Celebrimbor could not dare to touch. The Ring that had destroyed him, once; that Ring that now he must destroy.

"I am here, Frodo," he made himself say. His voice cracked on the words, brittle as overheated steel or ill-carved stone. He swallowed another sob and wiped at his streaming eyes.

Frodo padded forward across the dark room on his quiet, furry feet. Celebrimbor watched the small figure of the Hobbit cross the sliver of moonlight and settle to the floor in the shadows before him. He looked up at Celebrimbor, his little face drawn tight with worry and compassion.

"Are you all right?" Frodo asked again.

Celebrimbor opened his mouth to reassure the Ring-bearer, but what came out instead was: "No."

Frodo smiled at him. There was no joy in that smile, but a great deal of kindness. "I didn't think so," he said simply. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

"No," Celebrimbor said again.

Frodo's smile did not waver. "I didn't think so," he said again. "That's all right. Can I sit with you anyway, for a while?"

No, Celebrimbor meant to say for a third time, but instead: "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, Frodo, thank you. I would like that."

Frodo nodded, and reached out wordlessly to take his tear-damp hand, and Celebrimbor let him.

They sat there together, the Ring-bearer and the Ring-maker, in the black darkness of Khazad-dûm and watched in silence as the faint sliver of moonlight moved across the floor.

In the back of both their minds, the Ring was laughing.

[camille-lachenille]

A sad ficlet I wrote instead of sleeping: