#Cold Peace

[gimbapchefs]

your average jimin x jungkook interaction

[itsscaredycat]

i’m not asking for anyone’s forgiveness, only their understanding that people can— and do— grow and change and learn

no matter how old you are, in 10 years time you will not be the same person you were, and both you and the world around you will change (hopefully for the better!)

some things never really leave us or even get rekindled later on, like my love for gravity falls and how it inspires me to create (just like any media i enjoy), but the fandom and even the source content for gravity falls is VERY different now compared to 10 years ago! so are my opinions on certain ships.

i’m not going to “leave the fandom” because a stranger on the internet told me to. please just block me if you don’t like seeing my stuff. problem solved! you don’t have to see me and i don’t have to see you.

[fanaticalthings]

Bruce after yelling at all his kids, now turning to Jason specifically: And anoth-

Jason: You ever raise your voice at me again, and I'll start a gang war so elaborate and large scale that you'll be forced to call in the Justice League.

Bruce:

Jason: And I'll do it whilst you're in the middle of an ultra important WE meeting, too.

[ylceon]

love from all directions

[star-bear-art]

halsin 100% knows she's looking

[summerwages]

minnow moment...

[academic-vampire]

𝔰𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢.

[boycaca]

Admittedly im no hardcore tartaglia fan so idk what kind of discussions you guys are having over there but i feel like i always see people talk about his traumatic past in the abyss or the fatui but what about his childhood. What about the fact that he is basically just some country bumpkin in the fatui. I like to think that the first “weapon” his father made him learn how to “wield” was an axe, not to fight people, but for chopping wood for heat fuel for the house at The Grown Age Of 6 Years Old. I dont know much about the climate in snezhnaya so i cant tell you if they’re able to grow a lot of crops in the summer or if it really is just an everlasting snowstorm there but i can feel it in my bones that whenever his mother was gardening he was called outside to help her weed out the crops (is that what you call that process in english???). Do you think his favourite dessert was kissel or something, or maybe those sugar rooster lollipops they would sell at markets. Do you think he ever slid down a snowy hill so fast he crashed into a tree. Do you think he would beg his mom to bake him a honey cake each year for his birthday (with his help, of course). Do you think when he first arrived at the capital in snezhnaya he got lost and confused because he just did not know how to navigate a big city. Do you thin

[hauntedangelconnoisseur]

Graves is not going to have another step-parent

The dad in question:

[almostfoxglove]

pedro pascal cinematic universe aus 9/?

the one where din djarin ferries the dead. (insp)

[fluffygif]

undefined

When you don’t want to leave the park

[historicity-was-already-taken]

writing history be like

when i started actually writing i had about 3,000 MS word pages of research organized along chronological chapter lines.

the actual finished product will probably be around ~250 pages

it's a literal (metaphorical) iceberg.

also, my footnotes are CHONKY*

NEW FOLLOWERS NOTE: my ~debut~ work of narrative history, about female jewish resistance workers in poland during the holocaust, will be published by harpercollins next fall.

*and divided into endnotes for sourcing and feetnote for information that doesn't quite fit into the narrative but still needs to be there. those don't really figure into the iceberg metaphor tho

[adam-trademark]

Peace with the Geese

(January 4, 2024)

[arkiwii]

its getting really cold outside

[antigonenikk]

modern day liebgott is an uber driver who exclusively plays chief keef on his busted out speakers. his car is a 2004 toyota corrolla that smells like cigarette smoke and axe body spray. the rubber is peeling off of two of the doors. the left blinker does not work. a door handle has been mysteriously ripped off and the windows wont roll down. he has ten parking tickets he refuses to pay off and does not care about right of way. if hes delivering your food for uber eats you can count on the fact that he has eaten some of your fries. in spite of all of this he pulls more bitches than all of his friends combined.

[neropece]

“a silent story” photo by Fabrizio Pece (tumblr | 500px | instagram)

Il bosco di betulle, ai piedi della montagna, si ergeva come un santuario silenzioso, un luogo dove il freddo inverno si abbandonava alla grazia candida della neve. Alle dieci di quel mattino, il sole cercava di penetrare tra i rami spogli delle betulle, gettando un bagliore argenteo sui sentieri di neve intonsa. Non c'era un suono tranne il leggero fruscio delle foglie secche cullate dalla brezza.

Guido, un uomo di mezza età con una cicatrice profonda sul viso e gli occhi che portavano il peso di troppi inverni, camminava solitario tra gli alberi. Il suo respiro si trasformava in nuvole vaporose nell'aria gelida. Vestito con un cappotto logoro, con lo sguardo assorto, era un intruso in quel regno di pace e silenzio.

Le betulle si stagliavano come figure spettrali e la loro corteccia bianca risplendeva sotto il tocco del sole invernale. I rami sottili si intrecciavano come dita ossute, protese verso il cielo. La neve, immacolata e incontaminata, scricchiolava sotto i passi di Guido, un suono delicato che sussurrava i segreti di una terra dimenticata.

Nel cuore del bosco si fermò. Poco distante notò uno spazio aperto dove la neve si adagiava come un manto soffice. Si avvicinò e si sedette su un tronco caduto, osservando la vastità del paesaggio innevato. Il silenzio del bosco era sospeso nel tempo, un'armonia serena che avvolgeva ogni pensiero.

Un cervo, timido e maestoso, fece la sua comparsa ai margini del bosco, i suoi occhi si fissarono su Guido. I loro sguardi si incrociarono per un istante, un legame silenzioso tra l'uomo e la creatura selvaggia. Poi il cervo si allontanò, scomparendo tra gli alberi come un fantasma della foresta.

Guido si alzò lentamente, sentendo la solitudine del bosco penetrare nelle pieghe della sua anima. Era come se il silenzio avesse rivelato la fragilità della vita, la bellezza effimera di un momento invernale. Con un'ultima occhiata alle betulle, al loro bianco splendore, si diresse lentamente verso il sentiero di neve, lasciando il bosco alle sue spalle.