#voor mij

[dutchjan]

April 06, 2023

[agnost]

verkiezingen 2024 peiling

ik weet dat het 3 verkiezingen zijn en je niet per se op 1 partij stemt, maar 3 polls zou overkill zijn denk ik lol. laat gerust weten in de tags/replies of jullie op verschillende partijen stemmen naargelang federaal/regionaal/europees, en waarom 🥺

[arc-en-disco]

Joost in het roze

[afterlematch]

Nieuwe making of is er. How we feeling?

[handlewithcare-delicate]

GUYS

FUCK YEAH

[lifeofroos]

Nederbloggers van Tumblr ik heb een voorstel

[barschter000]

Barok felt a new kind of completion, and under the weight of the jewelry, he straightened. The pendants shone proudly through the dim of the attic as if its place on Barok's chest had restored them to a glory no one else had been able to awaken before. ...It's the dust, Barok reasoned, I must have removed it by chance while I handled the stones. Merely the dust that had been lifted off everything, under which the necklace had waited and his eyes welled with tears.

I've not had the words to properly write recently but still wanted to do something with my fics, so I decided to illustrate a scene from my transfem Barok fic that I really like. More of it under the cut

⎯⎯⎯

He suddenly considered speaking a prayer for her peaceful rest in the afterlife, now that after all these years, the thought of her was so present in his mind again. But he quickly decided against it; her gaze from the grave was already more than enough, he did not need to call another pair of distant eyes on himself.

“Vergeeft u me, Moeder.” He opened the jewelry box.

Lifting the lid released a new wave of the attic’s endless supply of dust and Barok snorted. Still, the dust revealed that the old shimmer of gemstones and gold in the little compartments had survived: the bejeweled bracelets and ornate brooches, the dainty necklaces and hat pins; his mother’s preserved beauty.

His throat contracted. This felt immoral. This was immoral. He was robbing a dead woman, essentially. And what for? Uncertainties and impossibilities. He should simply turn around and go back downstairs and lock himself in whenever those thoughts arose again.

It hadn’t work, had it? The thoughts always returned. Barok hoped that a measure this extreme would banish them once and for all.

One piece of jewelry caught his attention.

It was a wedding gift, he had been told. A beloved necklace that his grandmother had passed to his mother when she had married, and was to be passed to his sister-in-law in turn. However, Klint had considered it a bad omen: he did not want to burden his wife with the tragedy that had been their parents’ marriage and death.

Klint’s precautions had mattered little in the end; and whether his prudence towards the accessory was reasonable or not, Barok thought a bad omen might be of use in the situation at hand.

The necklace was a delicate work of exquisite craftsmanship – pale blue moonstones suspended from a fine gold chain, smaller than his palm. His mother had worn it practically all the time that they had shared. He remembered her habit of fiddling with the chain, how it only got worse whenever she was told to pull herself together.

Not unlike himself.

Barok pulled out the necklace, careful to not awaken any more dust, and settled down at an old dressing table. Like the other furniture in the attic, it had not been used ever since the last woman of his family had left the house, and was now doomed to rot away in darkness. Barok just couldn’t convince himself to throw it out.

The light of his candelabra illuminated the grime on the mirror, half-obscuring his reflection. It was for the better.

One last time, Barok sighed. He opened the clasp and put it on.

It should have felt wrong, not familiar. Nostalgic at best. If anything, the sparkle of the gems could have evoked reminiscence of childhood curiosity, of plump fingers in his mother's arms reaching out to catch the reflections, of older but still bright eyes always darting back to the shimmering that he had been forbidden to touch – not this.

The coolness of the metal through his collar should satisfy the young boy of his memories. The weight should ground him, bow him down to pay last respects to his mother and to let the necklace slip off his head and release him.

Instead, Barok felt a new kind of completion, and under the weight of the jewelry, he straightened. The pendants shone proudly through the dim of the attic as if its place on Barok's chest had restored them to a glory no one else had been able to awaken before.

...It's the dust, Barok reasoned, I must have removed it by chance while I handled the stones. Merely the dust that had been lifted off everything, under which the necklace had waited and his eyes welled with tears.

He tore off the jewelry and threw it against the mirror.

Barely a second had separated that damning realization and the crack! and chink! of split glass and chipped moonstones.

Destruction had become a habit in the past decade. It was an addictive means to control – quick, effective, satisfying.

Finally he, the broken heart, was the one to break what he loved most. Finally he himself could choose his pain.

He struck the mirror. The shards loosened from the frame and dropped onto the dressing table; small pieces bore into his fist.

[majestic-salad]

'Jij fietst alsof je op je telefoon zit' is denk ik een van de gemeenste dingen die je kunt zeggen

[r3dships]

Thinking about how I basically have a minor crush on like every male hero in Overwatch. Bastion is not an exception.

[ochtendstorm]

ik wil niet mezelf redden. ik wil niet hechtingspijnen verwerken. ik wil niet verantwoordelijk zijn voor mijn 'beter-worden'. ik wil niet alleen zijn. ik wil niet volwassen zijn.

(ik wil gedragen worden, ik wil lieve woorden, ik wil delen, ik wil gered worden)

[kleefkruid]

Ik heb mijn eerste twee jaar Frans gehad in een alternatief schooltje waar ze een beetje te creatief waren met het curriculum met als resultaat dat ik over ufo's kon praten in het Frans (un ovni #neverforget) maar ze waren vergeten mij avoir en etre te leren en dat was super fantastisch voor mijn verdere traject in het middelbaar uiteraard

[michelristenpattsworld]

“Nou en? Ik doe toch lekker wat ik wil!!”

En dan kijkt ze op t eind ook nog brutaal de camera in! Zo van: wie maakt me wat??! Als een ‘ware’ anarchist!!! Beter nog: feminisme anno 2023 of weet ik veel wanneer dit godvergeven gedrocht(hiermee bedoel ik niet Irma!) op YouTube is gekwakt…

Dit is dus Irma, helemaal uit haar dakje bij een Frans Bauer concert! En zomaar wat gedachten die daarna bij de eigenaar van dit blog opkwamen.

…En als ze met haar lijf naar rechts beweegt, gaat haar kop mee natuurlijk, en wordt Herman, die achter haar staat en haar schouder’tjes’ stevig beet heeft, heel even zichtbaar.

Herman vind het wel best allemaal. Als hij die schouders maar kan vasthouden en mee kan deinen op het gewieg van dat wijfenlijf voor hem…En dat het nou op YouTube komt, á lá!

Hij vindt t wel stoer eigenlijk, wetende dat zijn collega’s op kantoor hier nog jarenlang over zullen blijven praten…

[adorablesunshinefour]

Oké dit seizoen ging veelste snel voor mij. Wat bedoel je volgende week weten we al wie de mol is?!?!?!?!

[majestic-salad]

Per ongeluk door de eftelingtag gaan scrollen en nu wil ik ook naar de efteling. Mogelijk eftelingfanart in de komende dagen maar ik beloof niks