#(tag this however you want! I don't mind)

[nebulousmedic]

You failed him.

[skeletonnerdy]

Procreate Doodles,,

Makoto, Izuru Kamakura, and Chihiro

Makoto was really fun to draw, He's so expressive and cute. Chihiro was one of my favorites in Thh, so they might actually get finished. Izuru.... he's there. He doesn't look bad, but I feel like I could do him more justice

[mac-ann-cheese]

It's been a long time...

I saw in one of the reblogs someone (I hope you see this!) mentioning that the combo of Alfred and LDR is underrated, oh well I've got good news for you... as I have a bazillion of Lana's songs that I associate with him (the -tism goes BRRRRR)

It's embarrassing to say that I've completed this in a span of 3 days, cause I started it way back in February

Procrastination at its finest.

[djs-sideblog-for-pog-trains]

so. um. @mean-scarlet-deceiver's post about thomas and henry's relationship has been living in my brain rent free for the past month and i have been turning over a scene for just as long.

so. i tried to write it. i hope you don't mind, jobey. and also you're right. they are Hard to get right. if i had to put an era on this i'd call it BG (Before Gordon).

about 1.5k, full fic under the cut

--- --- ---

Thomas keeps shooting glances at the sheds as he bustles around the yard.

It… the hired help from the other railway, the engines who are slightly too full of themselves for Thomas’ liking (and he’s made sure to let them know as such) have been talking loudly all morning, as they were getting ready to take their trains, about… the new engine.

Henry. Even if he couldn’t have remembered Henry’s name, the other two have been saying it loudly enough to carry around the yard that Thomas certainly has the picture now. And… Thomas’ lip curls as he hears their newest comment as he goes past.

“Hey!” he calls, boiling over, and the two hired engines look at him. “It’s 9am already. Are you going to actually go take your trains, or are you just going to sit and preen all day?”

“What would you know, little Thomas?” one of them calls back, all smarmy and smug. Thomas’ lip curls even more into a full on frown. Eugh. Tender engines.

“About running a railway on time?” Thomas snaps back. “Clearly more than you! Are you waiting for Sir Topham Hatt to personally invite you, or?”

They huff and sneer and pout at him, but they do still steam off one by one. However, they each shoot Henry a knowing and cruel side-eye as they go that makes Thomas bristle, despite himself.

Henry is still in his berth in the sheds. Well, he’s half-in, half-out. He only seemed to have made it so far before he… stopped. And he’s been going all sorts of shades of red as the others’ gossip had gotten louder and louder as he waited for his driver to return with an engineer of some sort.

Henry isn’t looking at Thomas now, but his eyes had snapped to the tank engine when Thomas had spoken up. He’s instead closed his eyes, puffed out his cheeks, and seems to be trying – and trying hard – to… to what? To move?

Thomas tries not to stare, as he moves trucks into the siding they’re expected to be found in. Why is he trying so hard?

Eventually, Henry does actually move – but he… Thomas frowns again. Henry moves backwards, back into the shed. The wheesh Henry lets out as he comes to a halt is limp and weak.

Henry has been here, what, all of a month, maybe two at this point. Thomas hasn’t heard… many kind things, actually, so far, which is weird because look at him. Henry’s huge – Henry’s the biggest engine Thomas has ever seen, and he’s surely powerful to boot.

But Henry… Well, Edward said that Henry is sick, and sick often.

“Why?” Thomas had asked, as they had approached the shed. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Thomas,” Edward had reprimanded, and that’s when Thomas had realised Henry was in earshot, and clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t.

And that had been that.

Thomas had seen Sir Topham Hatt come out of his office at the station to watch Henry’s comings and goings, and more often than not with a stormy expression on his face. And Thomas didn’t get that either. Problems get the stormy expression. Troublemakers get the stormy expressions (Thomas would know). And Henry seems… too…

Thomas biffs his truck ahead of him as he turns his thoughts over.

Too… quiet? Too wallpaper? Too chameleon? Too…?

He snorts to himself. Whatever Henry is, he’s too much of it. And certainly too much of it to be a troublemaker, not like those mainline engines. It’s not like Thomas has gotten to know Henry yet, and it’s not like Henry has given him the opportunity to, either: but Thomas doesn’t get the impression Henry wants to be trouble. But he has to be… there has to be something wrong here, otherwise the Fat Controller wouldn’t be so upset.

Thomas hears a sniff from behind him as he backs down his stretch of track, and realises it’s come from the sheds.

And Thomas sighs quietly. …Then again, if nothing was wrong, Henry wouldn’t be so upset either.

“Those two,” Thomas says, before he can think, and Henry has gone absolutely silent, eyes flicking over to Thomas as Thomas pauses on a nearby siding for just a moment. “Bloody wankers, the pair of them.”

The silence holds for another second or two, before Thomas is rewarded with a shaky laugh.

“…I noticed,” says Henry.

“All those mainline tossers, really,” Thomas continues, and he keeps talking even as his work takes him all around the yard, speaking up so Henry can still hear him. “I almost wish the Fat Controller wouldn’t hire them. Sure, we need more wheels on rails, but they don’t seem to know a blazing thing about this railway.”

Henry – in the shadow of the shed – purses his lips, before he lets out another sigh, another limp wheesh of steam.

“I would hardly say I do, either,” he says miserably.

Thomas frowns, and comes to a halt a little too sharply with a big woosh of steam.

“Of course you do,” he replies, indignant. Henry’s a big engine, he should- why would he say that?  Sure, Henry hasn’t been here long, but he’s a big engine, he should know plenty. “More than them, anyway.”

Henry sighs. He doesn’t argue, but Thomas’ fire flickers in annoyance as he can read of Henry’s face that Henry doesn’t agree either.

“I mean, you wouldn’t have been bought if-”

“Don’t.”

Thomas’ mouth hangs open for a second, before he closes it, blinks, and glances at Henry.

Henry looks even more upset. Great job, Thomas.

“I��m just saying-”

“Well, don’t,” Henry cuts him off again, sounding grumpier. And he’s gone from miserable to grumpy – that’s a win in Thomas’ book. “I’m particularly not in the mood to hear how I’d be more useful as a tin can.”

“The only tin cans around here are those self-important mainland pricks,” Thomas shoots back, and Henry side-eyes him – suspicious. “I’m not convinced they know what a timetable is, let alone how to read one. What kind of engine hangs around in the sheds when there’s work to… be…?”

Thomas trails off, and Henry… actually laughs. It’s tired and it’s bitter, but it’s a real laugh and it’s better than miserable.

“…Well, I want to assume you’re going to go work. When you can.”

“Optimism,” Henry says dryly. “I admire that in an engine.”

Thomas scrunches up his face. “I don’t understand you,” he says bluntly, in a way he’s sure Edward would scold him for if he was with them. “You’re miserable in the sheds, you’re miserable out on the line, you’re miserable doing nothing and you’re miserable pulling trains.”

Henry stares at Thomas for a moment, before his eyes flick away.

“If I could get out of this yard and actually pull trains, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Thomas says, far more dreamily than he’ meant to, and he cringes a little, chuffing out of where he can see Henry’s face, because he doesn’t need to hear an earful about it from another big engine.

“…You’re small,” Henry says, slowly, not accusatorily nor really condescendingly. He sounds more …confused than anything. “…And you’re useful, here.”

“And?” Thomas snaps back, defensive. “I could be useful anywhere.”

Henry’s silent for another moment, like he’s really chewing that statement over.

Then, eventually, he surprises Thomas by saying, “…I suppose you would be better than those two.”

And Thomas lets out a sharp bark of laughter, shooting Henry a grin as he goes by, and punctuating it with a hoot and a whistle – delighted. The enthusiasm makes Henry blink, before slowly, a smile of his own spreads across his face; one that sharpens to match Thomas’.

“You’re most certainly right! And besides. You let them get to you, you let them win,” Thomas agrees. “And they’re far too useless for that.”

Henry laughs again. Thomas lets out another peep-peep and a woosh of steam of his own, pleased to have earnt it. Footsteps crunch over the gravel of the yard, and Thomas spots Henry’s driver returning with a couple of engineers in tow before Henry does, and replies to their hellos as he bustles past.

“Hello, lad,” Henry’s driver says to Henry, patting his side. “We’ll have you right as rain in no-time, alright?"

Henry sighs again, but does actually smile back at his driver.

His driver blinks in fond surprise as the engineers get to work finding the newest problem. “You’re in good spirits, all of a sudden.” Then, he glances at Thomas as the tank engine goes past. “Making friends?”

“More so finding the only engine in this yard with a thought in his smokebox, it seems,” Henry says dryly, loud enough for Thomas to hear, and that makes Thomas snort in amusement.

He does call back, “Hey, now, be nice to Edward!”

And the engineers and Henry’s driver alike seem relieved when the two engines laugh together.

Thomas watches them work to get Henry’s steam up, and Henry’s finally pulling out of the sheds a good half-hour later. Thomas whistles goodbye as Henry chuffs away.

He smiles with the satisfaction of a job well done when Henry, completely of his own volition, whistles a goodbye in return as he disappears off down the line.

Then, Thomas returns to his trucks, and gives them a good biff once more, ignoring how this time, they really shriek. He – and Henry, he imagines – can’t wait for those mainlanders’ contracts to run out.

[ghostieblotts]

So @uhhhitsme sent me an ask about pet names, and the curtwen demons would not let me sleep last night until I had written something for both the canon universe and for my botw/totk curtwen au that I haven't properly posted about yet on tumblr.

Under the cut are some ideas that I originally included in my response to that ask, but have now decided to separate out into another post.

For context, in the botw/totk au I cast Curt as Link and Owen as Zelda - so for anyone reading this who isn't a Zelda fan, Owen is a prince expected to unlock a sacred power and save the world, while Curt is his appointed knight, who is also the hero chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness.

Rough simplified progression of their dynamic pre-Calamity is "I hate his guts why am I stuck dealing with this guy" -> banter becomes less hostile -> building want for honesty, yearning and concern -> façade breakdown -> actually confiding in each other -> "I've never admitted this to anyone before" -> lovers.

With both of them, there are names that they start off using for each other mockingly/as a formality, that eventually become imbued with new meaning as their relationship changes.

Owen probably calls Curt something like "Sir Knight", either as mockery or deliberately distancing over-formality, towards the beginning. "Sir Mega" takes on a similar tone. Over time, he starts to actually use Curt's name - still sharply at first, but eventually much softer. When he uses "sir knight" again, either to keep up a formal appearance or more as an inside joke, it's with much more respect. Their history together (and the understanding of how much his role as a knight, as a chosen hero, has affected Curt) seeps into the phrase.

When Curt is assigned as the prince's appointed knight, it's hard not to let his frustration with his role intrude on how he says the various stuffy formalities with which he is expected to address Owen. "Your highness", "your majesty", "your grace", "your radiance", blah blah blah, there's a different one for every event and it is tedious. Over time, with repetition, they start to sound more ordinary, though. After a while, fed up, Owen demands Curt call him "Prince Owen" instead - it's far more practical. Over time, Curt manages to make this phrase sound incredibly casual. When they finally become lovers, some of those old formalities return, sounding very different - "highness", "majesty", "radiance". The respect packed into them isn't the same as that which is expected to be afforded to a sovereign - it's something beyond that, a different kind of devotion.

Ultimately, though, their names are really the most intimate form of address here. No ornamentation, no honorifics, just each other. It's particularly significant the first time Curt calls Owen by just his first name - he doesn't have to be royal, or powerful, or holy, just a person. Just himself. And that's enough.

[deepfriedpaddymayne]

I know I roast Augustin for this moment all the time but also the more I look at it the more I want to bang my head against the wall because like. my immediate reaction to this is "my man how touch starved do you have to be to enjoy yourself in this situation" but we KNOW he's not touch starved. we see him be very physically comfortable with his friends. which brings me to my other question which is HOW REPRESSED do you have to be to enjoy yourself in this situation

[youremyonlyhope]

Hey YouTube. Just because I love to crochet, does not mean I want constant Woobles ads.

[violentlydefending]

genuinely always so shocked to see mirei hate. like literally god forbid women do anything.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

doctors: try to remember the depression is not you

me, internally: so do you want me to end up psychotic or

[novrium]

I'd like to leave you with this before I go to bed ( @mewnbuns ) because I made it yesterday but then passed out and thereby forgot to actually send it so before this happens again-- 🏃

[liauditore]

tw dysphoria (i guess?), abandonment issues (it always when we talk about jimmy), just rambling about jimmy not being a toy but being dysphoric about it

(you can just delete it before reading if it could trigger you)

in my head all this "jimmy is a toyyy!!!" arc was not about haha toy story and let's ignore how they could know about it, okay, it's like how scott doesn't remember pearl and jimmy just OMG MY RANCHER, OMG SCAR, OH NO, GRIAN and yeah yeah yeah

you know that thing when everyone bulling person and calling them, for example, "monster" and they are like, well, a lot of people call me that, i should conform (megamind basically). that's something similar, everyone call jimmy a toy (which he's not) and he's starting to doubt if he's a human. everything joel did to him (or its all hallucinations or joel really can control it and make jimmy toy for some time) just making worth. jimmy wasn't a toy, was he? (in my headcanons sheriff jimmy it's cod jimmy that decided to try again but absolute opposite of what he was.)

and because of green also making hallucinations for him (i hope you knows green something like origin, you can find it something in romeos blog, i wrote about it a little), jimmy is really can't really say if he's not a toy. he doesn't want to belive it and we can see it in dialogues with scar, that jimmy refusing to be a toy, an action figure, everything besides who he really is.

i can imagine him, avoiding mirrors and reflective surfaces, so he won't see himself. i'm really inspired to write it all bc of cavetown dysphoric, it's so jimmy for me

it's been over a year now

i thought it was the end

but now i don't remember comfort

because what i am is what i'm not

i don't belong here, it's just hopeless

find me a way out

if you love me at all

don't let me hear what they say

cuz i can't stand it every day

i'm thinking that i should leave now

but i don't i think i'm coming back this time

it's killing my heart.

and scar was the only one who doesn't call jimmy a toy like 90% of their time together. jimmy knows that scar will leave, like his rancher left him, like emp1 scott left him alone with problem with cod father head and yeah yeah yeah....

i don't know, i just woke up and my brain wad like good morning, honey, it's time to make people suffer

- 🔥

angst?? for me??? 🥺🥺👉👈

HKDHKHLADH SCrEAMING,, putting thoughts under the cut cus i already know its gonna get Long but hkhlkfdhjk

OuGH i love this 😭😭😭 although the megamind comparison kinda sent me lmao

side note i am. into very disturbing and messed up themes so you'd have to try very, very hard to upset me. so go wild in my ask box lol (i do have a good chunk of ppl who just have 'minor' in their bios following me tho so i might not respond to smth if i feel like it's 'too far' or hide it under a cut but yeah)

^realising this sounds like a "i am very badass" thing but i swear i just think stuff is cool 😭😭😭

BUT ANYWAY ouhfhkl mind break and objectification my beloved. i love taking the toy bit in an angsty direction cus i'll be honest i never really found the humour in it but it's TASTY recontextualized.

Jimmy's got a lot of fight in him but I'm just thinking maybe one day it all becomes a bit too much and he just.. goes limp in his seat, eyes glazed over, motionless except for his chest rising and falling with each breath. Someone (maybe Scar, since we're doing Scaridarity) finds him and is like "Hey, what's wrong? You okay?" and gets no response.

Scar would probably be somewhat uninitiated on the whole toy thing and be puzzled but I'd think he scoops Jimmy up and takes him somewhere safe til he recovers. and when he finally gets up he has a bit of a panic attack about what is real.

[cryptidcalling]

Vesper thoughts; Late Night Swim (Please read the tags for CW before opening)

Sometimes, when it's late at night and he can't sleep, Vesper will go for a swim in the Citadel's private pool. Technically it's Pansa's, but Vesper uses it far more often. He keeps the overhead lights off, just turning on the ambient lights beneath the water, setting them to a soft pink. The water is cold at night, since he never bothers to turn on the heaters. He lowers himself in slowly and launches off the side with his feet, dipping below the water and silently swimming across the length of the pool. He touches his fingertips to the opposite wall, comes up for a breath, and then launches off again. He lets himself get lost in the rhythm of it, almost meditative as each gasp for breath and soft splash fills the otherwise silent room. He'd struggled with swimming when he was young. He'd never seen so much water in one place before, and he certainly couldn't imagine being able to move your body through it. He hadn't been the only cadet who couldn't swim, but he still wasn't willing to be left behind, learning this basic skill as others got to start the real training. He took up every second of pool time he was allowed to. The number of times he'd almost drowned was over half a dozen. It never stopped him. Tonight he swims with grace, barely perceptible in the dark, pink water. On one wall of the pool room is a massive window overlooking the city of Starport. Lights glimmer from below, but up above the jagged silhouette of skyscrapers is a clear view of the night sky. Three moons shine brightly, surrounded by the pinprick light of stars. Vesper lets it interrupt his focus, gliding to the edge of the pool and staring out. The city is always alight, never sleeping, alive with the constant flow of power thanks to Stardust, the lifeblood of the Empire. He's not unlike the city, in that way. As his gaze turns up towards the sky, he gets a familiar feeling in his chest. It feels like someone is pulling him, like there are two strong hands wrapped around his ribs tugging him out toward the sky. The tightness spreads up into his neck, feeling as if there's something lodged there, words he does not know trapped in his throat, desperately needing to be called out. He tries to follow the feeling, let the words free, but there's nothing. He remains silent. Finally, he pushes away from the wall and treads water in the center of the pool. If he looks closely at the water he can almost convince himself that it's reflecting the sky. Vesper takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He lets himself sink. He can feel it when his back makes contact with the floor. He looks behind him, but nothing is there. Stretching infinitely in all directions is the cold, eternal void of space. His hair flows up above him with no gravity to hold it down. Beyond him is a field of stars, trillions all clustered together, sisters lighting up the otherwise desolate stage in a glittering crescendo of flame and color. For a moment their magnificence is all he can comprehend, and he releases the knot in his throat in a silent, awestruck breath. Bubbles emerge from his mouth and float up and away.

Their beauty reaches his soul, but their warmth is inaccessible at this distance. The void's cold prickles against his skin. His fingers buzz like static, and when he finally brings them up to his face they're a bright pink. With a twitch, his fingertips break away into shimmering Stardust. There's an odd feeling in his chest again. It's different now, not being pulled away but rather crushing in on itself. It feels tight and uncomfortable, constricting his lungs and pressing hard against his bones. He watches as more of his hand disintegrates and floats away from him. It doesn't hurt much. It's prickly and uncomfortable, but then it's just numb. Maybe it will spread across his whole body. That wouldn't be so bad really. He could stay here forever that way. The pressure has turned into pain. It's crushing his lungs, traveling up his esophagus and winding around his throat. It hurts. He wants the light to spread faster, to reach his chest and turn it to dust so the ache will stop. He'll be at rest, his body turned to Stardust, the lifeblood of the Empire. The Empire. Vesper opens his eyes. He breaks the surface of the water with a crash and is able to make his way to a ledge, resting his weight against it as he violently coughs and gasps for air. It takes him several minutes to finally catch his breath. He's tired, and he's freezing, but he feels more at ease than he had before. He gets out and dries himself off, changing into some very comfortable pajamas, a gift from Pansa. He returns to his quarters and crawls back into bed. The covers are soft and warm. Feeling cozy and exhausted, he finds it easy to drift off to sleep. He dreams of stars.

[synthshenanigans]

there’s one on here currently and they’re bringing back up old controversy (jashshipping)

Yeaa I saw that. They also seem to post a bunch of CJ related things, so I might make the daily photos one since there isn't one for just CJ screenshots/photos

[legolasghosty]

"Why is there a raccoon on your lap?" Alex asked, knowing he was going to regret the answer.

Willie looked up at him sheepishly. "Cause.... the raccoon might be Reggie?" they admitted.

Alex grimaced. Oh no. Not again. "What happened?" he asked, turning toward the herb bottles on the kitchen counter.

The raccoon squealed and Willie quickly resumed his steady stroking of its back. "Not totally sure," they admitted. "Almost definitely a potion, but I don't know if it was an accident or if..."

If someone did this on purpose.

Alex clenched his fist, trying to shut off the sparks that were forming on his fingertips at the thought of anyone trying to hurt Reggie. He didn't have time for anger now, he had to get an antidote ready. Willie might be better at incantations, but potions had always been Alex's strength.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Willie asked softly as Alex prepped the ingredients.

Alex nodded, forcing himself to stay calm. "Yeah, we'll figure this out. And then he can tell us how this happened."

He hoped it had been some sort of accident. Because if someone had done this to Reggie on purpose... well, he wasn't sure that he or Willie could be trusted not to retaliate.

(Send me the first sentence of a fanfic and I'll write the next 5+!)

[orion-my-rion]

tumblr stop adding "features" challenge how about you try fixing one of the thousand problems with the app first

[imaginationlane]

*Pops back in after being MIA for about 2 years, and notices quite a bit has changed in the Bill Skarsgard fandom.*

Oh...

Oh my.