#crossposed

[dakotac0le]

I wish everysingle person who feels doubt about using aac for [insert literlly any reason] a very merry USE AAC !!! aac of every type. Communication cards . Communication boards . High tech boards . Etc . Is a wonderful and glourious tool !! Made explicitly for the purpose of helping disabled ppl communicate better. So if thats you for ANNNNY reason . USESEE IT !!

[rongzhi]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be open to this suggestion, there are lots of douyins/tiktoks/ig reels (sorry) out there that have not been translated and are difficult to translate through Google/other online translate dictionaries. I was wondering if you would maybe be open to the idea of paid translation services to donate to Ghazzah gofundmes/charities? For example, we send you a video we would like you to translate along with money or proof of donation. I hope this doesn't come off as pushy.

Not pushy at all! This sounds like a good idea, and I do accept translation requests although in the past, I've really only done it if I felt like it. If the request was submitted with proof of donation, I would certainly be more motivated to translate a video.

If people are interested in this being an ongoing thing (keeping in mind that if there's high volume of requests, it will take time to get through everything and I'll probably largely be getting to requests during the weekend), I can come up with a post with submission guidelines this weekend.

I'm thinking that the requested video's length may be something I will tier so as to better guarantee that video is translated at some point... E.g, 0-60sec = $5 USD gfm donation; 61s-90s = $10 etc, with a cap of at least $50 for 5min, which would bring the video to the 500mb tumblr upload limit.

I will of course not be open to translating any offensive content such as racism/colorism, xenophobia, homophobia, sexism, ableism, etc... not that I think any followers would submit such things knowingly, but you never know,—literally, in the case that the video submitter doesn't know Chinese. I would probably be open to taking proof of donation to personal GFMs such as those I have posted about already, or from other charities like eSIM donations or other (feel free to suggest a few).

I would probably prefer douyins be requested so I can include the OP's watermark, although if it's a reposted IG reel (rather than crossposed), sometimes the original can be tracked down with keywords, too, so maybe that'll be acceptable as well...

[sagehaubitze]

Now that bluesky is open to the public I'm trying to post over there more, little by little. (twitter may as well be dead to me.) I'm mostly just posting old photography and crossposing random bits I post here, only difference is that I'm keeping my old photography queue on here chronological. Over there it's just kinda... random.

I hate hashtags but I'm trying to get used to it. If you made an account in the past couple days, you can find me @ haubitze

[a-writing-bear]

[NedCan] Valentines Exchange 2019: Loving you through our Time Together

This is a Gift for @a-cool-canadian for the @nedcan Valentine Exchange event!!! ʕ♡˙ᴥ˙♡ʔ Please enjoy it!

Note: Happy Valentines Day Jess! My inner history buff got excited- apologies for any inaccuracy and vagueness, I don't really know much and researched a little bit. I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I did writing it and it brings a smile  :)

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783909

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Word Count: 3,272

Age Rating/Mature:  All Audiences :)

Prompt:  “Fluff moments and historical events”

It had been cold. That was one definite vivid memory he could recall when reminiscing over the long conceptual relationship he had nurtured with the Canadian. The cold dusty air of new land had the taste of excitement, and his hair had been ruffled from his pack and belongings when he first landed in what was not yet known to be the North American continent. It was a time before such modern (or what is considered to be ‘modern’ to a nearly immortal entity like themselves’) names like Matthew could be granted, let alone the title of ‘Canada’. The 1500s were a messy time, and especially considering by then it was only a mere measly 500 years of Lars officially donning ‘Holland’, his experience of running a country was dictated by his teachings of his seniors- the germanics had not yielded much besides the importance of strategy on him and the need for expansion and exploration came to him naturally, like the waves back to the shores pulling him in. His expedition to the Indies had been quite the effort and it wore Lars through and through, so his focus during 1605 was far from ogling Matthew- he was unaware of Matthew’s presence on the pristine territory entirely.  He had barely spotted a distant figure on the landing, a small one too far to be someone of importance- let alone a new country he would meet within the next few centuries. Little did he know such a blurry figure, the one that barely piqued his interest, would have morphed into an infatuation to span a lifetime.

The first formal introduction to the former-colony had been egged on by momentary passing remark from England and France, Both of which were fervently arguing over ownership of the young nation for nearly a millennium. The Netherlands, being the ever-snarky and enterprising man he is, had been engaged in some rather boring trade and naval control wars with the Englishman- the man had this rather short and delicate youth following him around some lost pup, or a deer too heavy and endearing to carry the weight of the world on his own. Too eager to impress, Matthieu (as Francis had spelt it) had the dazzling purple eyes and a smile so sickly sweet that Lars couldn’t help but pray for the youth’s survival under the Englishman’s imperial rule. No matter whose side he was on, Lars was sympathetic to the young nation as he too could remember the strife and difficulties that came with being under control of someone else. The back and forth of the many anglo-dutch wars were more of an annoyance, but Lars appreciated the interested, if not slightly concerned, glares he would receive from the colony hiding behind Arthur’s chair whenever he came to bicker over imports. He remembered the first time he had a proper conversation with Matthieu- he had been visiting some former citizens who had decided to share Dutch farming techniques to their new landowners when they had migrated to the British Isles.

“How is it you allow this?” the small voice had spooked the Netherlands as it seemingly came from nothing until his eyes trailed down to his chest to see the colony glaring at the book in his rough hands- a manual on new crops and selective planting. He recognised the being, that fluffed out hair that crowned Matthew's youthful face and those eyes that were so intensely ingrained in Lars’ memory.

“Pardon?” Lars- even though he exemplified the youthful mortal age of a 20-year-old and was still morphing with the development of his own land, was surprised to see how much Canada had grown since the last time he had seen him: Matthieu almost looked like the typical pre-teen that one could witness working in the fields of family farms and no longer the child that sat in the corner of some estate.

“Why do you allow us to take your techniques? Doesn’t it help us…? You fight with Mr England all the time but you’re allowing your skills to be taken and no offence you’re well known for your fighting” His face was soft despite his rational confusion; the questioning had put Lars in an uneasy position but who was he to deny explanation to someone still learning?

After much thought and a pause that seemed to engage Matthieu, Lars voice rang out with no wavering: “Political concerns like land and trade should not interfere with the wellbeing of anybody. People deserve to eat and to survive regardless of the disagreement between myself and your superior. I like fighting- however, I don’t see the need for unnecessary suffering”. The contemplation on the colony’s face had been so clear and mesmerised. At the time Matthieu had not only absorbed such information but a hunger for more advice panged in his chest; the blonde’s youth shone towards Lars- the honest and honourable considerations of him juxtaposed the usual nonsense that had been spewed to him by Francis and Arthur. Ít was at that moment Mathieu realised the wish he had for himself...and his respect for the older country stuck with him alongside his secret interest in the mysterious private dutchman.

Years since that interaction had passed, and the news of revolution spread like wildfire throughout Europe. There was no lie that it brought a smirk to Lars’ face once he heard of British colonies throwing fits; he had only read of the conflict in his news and heard from various leaders of the tantrums over in North America, his mind flickering to the prospects of Canada and wonder over what the intention of the ‘new world’ would bring. Despite Alfred’s brash and busy nature, Matthieu had been more reserved and diplomatic in his attempts of freedom and by the time Lars had run into Canada at the time, he had grown into a much older personification and donned a rather complimentary vest that screamed professionalism and diplomacy. Lars was thankful of his ever-present striped scarf that trailed over his neck and covered his red cheeks as he bumped into Matthieu: He had grown extremely attractive, and the taller man could no longer deny that his old innocent platonic admiration of the man had now been replaced and solidified into a more romantic notion of admiration of that glorious smile and French-tinged accent.

“Hallo Matthieu, I’ve heard you are now autonomous? Has Arthur really given up his conquest of the world?” His Dutch voice almost stuttered uncharacteristically as he breathlessly watched the man fiddle slightly with his sleeves, almost wrinkling the paperwork that was stocked in hand.

“Ah- Mr Netherlands! Yes! It is very exciting- Alfred had pushed me to change my ways and govern myself, but I’m more of the talking types so I’m on my way to negotiate some more over the British North America act!”

“That’s...uh... Gefeliciteerd Matthieu-Congratulations I mean..I know it must be time-consuming.”

“Oh, very much so Mr Netherlands- what brings you to Arthur’s home? I suppose it not another war again.” Lars almost tripped over at the accusation before he saw the glint and twitch of teasing that the other had possessed.

“Ah no just some business and...call me Lars, we are equals, consider this our proper introduction. The Country of the Netherlands” His hand had been outstretched, the sleeves of his tan coat straight and eager despite Netherland’s signature poker-face saying otherwise.

“Then...Hello Lars, I am Matthew- spelt with an ‘e-w’ now, I’m the Country of Canada.” the gentle hands had a strong grip much to Lars’ surprise, and the keen thankful demeanour of Matthew warmed Lars’ soul more than he’d like to admit.

He had never been more interested in the ‘New world’ than then.

Unfortunately, the next run-in with the Canadian had been one of the unhappy circumstances rather the usual fleeting meet cute. Neutrality had allowed Lars to scrape by during the first world war and it seemed as though fate would dictate that German invasion during the second would interrupt his peaceful intentions. To this day Lars shudders at the atrocities he had endured, the suffering had left him even more remorseful with his immortality than patriotism over his survival. Finance had always been a strong factor in his strategy It seemed as though selling weapons and food had been useless in comparison to the past... occupation was a depressingly painful experience and while he has moved on from the grudge, it still bubbles up in his soul even though a century has passed. When his dear sister Belgium had been pressured, and her land trampled, the Dutchman swallowed his pride- a swell of nervousness overrode his ego as he called his allies for support. Perhaps it was futile and blissfully over hopeful for him to think any troops could have made it in time. He watched the bombings over rotterdam with gritted teeth and his calloused hands which were used to the smooth finish of coins and the flora of green valley had clenched with an anger that he was unable to work out as ‘fortress holland' had been taken. Rotterdam was cursed as he was forced to sign those ‘surrender’ agreements; everything, while blurry, was so achingly heartbreaking. Lars was consistent with the intelligence he shipped off to his allies but there was a bitterness in the fact he was left to his own devices- isolated with only the company of his enemy plaguing his land. Although the understandable ‘sorry’s of his allies rang loudly in the various calls and letters; it was the undeniable fury of Matthew that uplifted the forlorn dutchman. In contrast to the reserved nature he had conveyed- Matthew was a tactical and unwavering genius; his words of assurance was so lighthearted despite the grim situation they had found themselves in”

“I promise you Netherlands. I will keep them safe for you. I will hide them from the world If i have to.” The plan was risking everything. How on earth were they expecting to smuggle part of the government and the royal family abroad without a disaster? His mind was riddled with constant worry and the usual calculating and deadpan man was rambling with anxious desperation; They had planned for evacuation to the UK and Canada for a while but executing such an escape was now expected to be more than just spoken agreements.

“Canada I don-”

“ Lars. Trust me. ” if it wasn’t under such dire consequences, Lars would have shuddered at the way the Canadian had pronounced his name; it was melodious in its powerful statement and the seriousness of the tone stole his heart piece by piece- Matthew didn’t know how grateful he was and forever will be. They had grown close due to European deals and although the two were regularly sending mail to each other, they always referred to each other at a distant title of ‘Mr’ or ‘Sir’ - to hear the utterance of his name signalled to him Matthew’s genuine care. This was an agreement between the two of them. Not their countries. There was personal tinge to it and it made him gulp at the overwhelming insinuation of it all- Matthew was his saving grace at this point. While Canada was just another ally, The man before him known as Matthew, on the other hand, had become everything.

Matthew had kept his word and by 1943, Princess Margriet had been born in Ottawa civic hospital- and to go the extra Mile Canada had made sure the ward had been registered as international territory to secure Dutch succession rights in the interest of Lars. He was beyond grateful. If he had not admitted his feelings for the man before this, then surely this act alone was the one that tipped his pure love for his dashing saviour. Hunger winter the following year was his most pitiful hour and it almost felt humiliating to watch the sadness glow in Matthew’s wearing and exhausted eyes when he had arrived at Lars salvation; the food in his arms was more than the Dutchman could ask for. Canada had never held that moment of weakness against him and instead caressed his cheek when he found the man slumped off the wall of some building in Randstad. He could remember the tired grasp they shared, the hug so warm compared to the cold he had been fighting, the blush on both their lips barely recognisable due to the dirt and grime that covered them both. the hasty and sudden taste of Matthew’s lips on his own, his starvation being replaced with nothing more than starvation of Matthew’s long-awaited affection and contact- he was so hopelessly in love.

The liberation of the Netherlands was practically inseparable to Dutch-Canadian relations and it was no big deal when a commemoration over such sacrifices was announced. Tulips came flown in by the thousands and Matthew was more than welcoming when his house had been adorned with tulips of all types. Lars was adamant to admit his obsession to give so many bouquets stemmed from much more than appreciation over his liberation yet the moment he had once again met Matthew, any anxious uncertainty over the gift disappeared.

For once he had stepped foot in the Canadian’s homeland, and by the time he had gotten to the doorstep of the personification, his assistant had made him aware that Mattie had tried to phone him on the diplomatic line countlessly. Lars' feet shuffled, the soles of his boots grating on the wicker mat that sat judgmentally at the front door of his crush’s cabin; The flowers that seemed perfectly trimmed in His hands were a bundle of specially grown tulips, bright red in their beautiful bloom- a private batch grown in his own home rather than his national fields. The doorbell was cut off as the door flung wide open extremely quickly, Matthew’s furrowed brow jumping into a more expressive and exhilarated look of astoundment.

“Lars?! Wh-how- I was just calling you to say thank you for the flowers!”

“I’ve uh...Brought you some more..” he almost melted as Matthew broke out into a wide smile, showcasing those pearly teeth in a grin. Despite their kiss back in 1944, the two were ridiculous in their courtship, shy in their advances and had not done much but spend nights talking to each other since. He had shed his jacket as he stepped into the strawberry blonde’s home, whom of which was quickly procuring a vase for his gift before offering some drinks.

“I...missed you. We’re grateful...I’m grateful for you Mattie.” Thank fuck for his practised poker-face in making it easier to say such words, and Matthew’s close nature meant that the Canadian could tell he was being sincere regardless of the straightly-lined announcement. The two caught up, pleasantly satisfied with each other’s company. Neither of them said anything as they found themselves snuggled up on a seat, hands and legs intertwined for ‘warmth’.

The modern era was rife with issues, issues that were starkly different from those of the 15th century but stemmed from the same themes of protectionism. The creation of NATO and OSCE, as well as their positions at the table of the UN, allowed them to speak more often and technologies like phones did nothing but encourage pursuing a relationship. Yet in the millennium of beating around the bush over their relationship, neither had said anything of the relationship between Matthew and Lars. It was always just the business side of Canada and the Netherlands that interacted, the close brush of shoulders being nothing more than a lingering with of unsaid meaning.

“Why don’t you two just go make out right now?” Alfred had cornered Matthew during a lunch time break, and his new tailored suit had become unbearable as his brother tormented him with mentions of his love life. It was not that they didn’t want to enter a relationship things were just... complicated. Being a nation was complicated. He had known Lars for so long, harboured feelings for him for just as long, what if Lars found that discouraging? Besides they had kissed...not that America knew that. God. Matthew internally rolled his eyes at the fact his brother was gossiping like some teenage girl.

“It’s not that simple Al. Lars is...he might not be interested anymore.” Insecurity had got the best of him and although he was always socialising with the dutchman - whether it be at olympic games or just stately visits - there was not much to go on from besides the looks they shared. Alfred whistled in disbelief, his brother must of been blind to not see the tripping over that Lars does unconsciously for him. The Netherlands had become the 8th highest destination of canadian exports and not to mentions the countless treaties and trade deals that the two had signed. Nothing says romance more than free trade and visa exemptions right? Everyone had seen the two squabble and tiptoe around the facts, making excuses like ‘diplomatic friendship’ and ‘international cooperation’ when it was clear as the light of day that these were more just benefits to being able to visit each other freely and often. As if god wanted to torment Matthew, Lars had come over, the clicking of his shoes loud with such a fast walking pace. Alfred ‘coincidentally’ had affairs to attend to at that moment and the two were left alone besides the table of coffee and refreshments.

“Hallo schatje, How are you? Was i interrupting your brother?” Matthew flustered at the nickname, he still wasn’t quite sure what it meant and the last time he asked Belgium and luxembourg for a translation they laughed and refused to let him know what the dutchman had been naming him. “I’m alright, alfred was just gossiping again, how are you Lars? Still waiting for springtime i suppose?” he nodded, the two quickly dissolving into gleeful conversation and it was always quite the spectacle to see the usually harsh and blunt european to break out an unlikely smile in the company of the quieter sheepish north american; he only really did so with his siblings and even then it was supremely rare. It was only when Matthew had turned to pour himself another cup of coffee did he hear a mumbling of the Dutchman obviously struggling with his inner thoughts: “fuck dit is stom en moeilijk, maar ... God, wees genadig...just say it…” Under his breath and muffled slightly into the cotton scarf he heard the dutchman swear to himself.

“Is everything alright Lars? Is this about the new-”

“Would you like to go for a...date after this...this meeting...?” Matthew was speechless. His free hand straightened his tie and he tried to formulate his answer- one that was clearly a yes. As he stared into those bluish eyes and the blonde’s avoiding look, he faltered. Every thought and hesitation to pursue a relationship was obliterated by the look on Lars’ face. Lars, embarrassed by this whole attempt had tried to cough his way out, nearly retreating, ready to beat himself up at fucking up a milleniums worth of friendship…

“Thank fuck. I thought you’d never ask.” Lars’ mouth stretched into an ‘oh’ before rapidly mentioning many apologies of his romantic incompetence but Matthew paid no attention as he tried to stand on his tippy toes. With his new height barely able to reach up to his lover’s chest, His hand grasping at the scraggly orange tie Lars had chosen that day and pulled him down into an overdue kiss.

“I’ve loved you for all of history Lars.”

[nehistripesseattle]

Via #alisondyerphotography at @rabbitprooflocations here’s another version of the #laynestaley cross pose. This will be used with some other of Alison’s work for an upcoming project. Details to come soon. #aliceinchains #1990s #crosspose #projects #nehistripesseattle #laynestaleyfans #LSMS #seattlesound #theGOAT (at Seattle, Washington) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKMeGI8pVkg/?igshid=1cu79e2xsl438

[rudy-redd]

Ngl synthv vocal modes should be on the basic editor- it's part of the voicebank you payed for, not as much a program feature like retakes

[peninkwrites]

To Protect - Captain Puffy & Niki Nihachu

Puffy swore she would do good. She would protect these kids who had no one to help them. She just hadn't realized who she was protecting them from.

Crossposed to ao3

-

Jack Manifold stoked the flames already licking at Niki’s broken heart, the flames she had tended to and fed carefully ever since the L’Mantree. Whether Jack had good intentions or merely saw Niki as a useful tool in his bid for revenge, the difference didn’t matter. Their goals remained the same. Jack didn’t care about the fallout, he didn’t care if killing Tommy would dissuade Dream as Niki seemed so convinced, as long as Tommy was dead on the ground, as long as Tommy knew he had been the one to ensure his final death, the details didn’t matter. Tommy had taken too much from him. Wounded his pride one too many times. Now Jack would take from him the only thing he had left.

Niki had not fallen in line easily, she was cautious, she was not naturally inclined to violence, she was just grieving. She had never recovered from the loss of Wilbur. So Jack was sure to remind her of the only way to honor his memory.

“We both know it’s his fault,” Jack pointed out on one of their many meetings. He had been sure to take their route alongside the crater of L’Manberg. For inspiration’s sake. “He survived, Wilbur didn’t, and Tommy made sure we all paid for it.”

“None of this is fair, Jack,” Niki remained grim, staring down into the pit in exhausted contempt. “We both know this doesn’t guarantee Dream stops. That any of this stops.”

“We’re not here to stop everything, Niki. We’re here to stop Tommy,” Jack reminded her gently. He needed to know that she was committed. She was wounded enough at least. “You burned the tree, right?”

“I did,” Niki said stiffly. She took no pride in that fact. It was another casualty of a conflict she never wanted to begin with.

“Niki…” Jack put a hand on Niki’s shoulder, an offering of support as she wavered. “You are rooted in this conflict. And it has taken root in you. That cannot be burned.”

When Niki finally turned to face him, her cheeks glistened with tears, but she did not look weak or afraid, she looked cold. A brutal conviction forged in loss and loss alone.

“I’m tired, Jack,” Niki’s hand went to the sword on her hip. “I want to finish this.”

Jack smiled, hand still on her shoulder. “For Wilbur, right? For everyone Tommy has ever hurt. We’ll have our justice.”

Niki pulled away, turning away from the crater that had once been her home, turning from the place where her best friend had crumbled alongside the nation he had built. If she let her anger take over, if she held onto that bitter ember tight enough, maybe it would quell the grief. Maybe she could let go of Wilbur with Tommy. She wouldn’t know for sure until Tommy was gone for good.

“We leave Tubbo out of it,” was all Niki said. As far as she was concerned, Tubbo had been hurt by Tommy as much as any of them.

“No harm comes to the boy,” Jack was quick to agree. “Tubbo doesn’t have any blood on his hands.”

“Let’s just get this done.”

~*~

Puffy wasn’t quite friends with Tommy and Tubbo. More like they were intrigued by her bothering to see them at all. The specifics didn’t matter, as long as she could keep an eye on them. They were okay. That surprised her, but from what she could surmise, they were coping. She knew that Tommy and Tubbo wouldn’t let her into their plots easily, and there was surely more trouble stirring underneath the surface, but she could at least make sure they were safe, she could throw snowballs at them and help Tubbo build up Snowchester. She could deal with their curious neighbor Jack Manifold. That is, until he had cornered her and asked her what she was doing.

“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping Tubbo finish the bay–”

“No,” Jack slammed the chest shut, stopping her from proceeding to get more stone brick. “What are you doing here? What do you want with Tubbo?”

“What do I want with Tubbo? Nothing. Nothing– I am just here making sure they’re safe,” Puffy mistook Jack’s paranoia for altruism. “Don’t worry, Jack. I promise, I just want to make sure Tubbo is okay. And after everything these kids have been through… I think they deserve a few friends to watch their backs.”

Jack seemed to accept this. “You’re smart, Puffy. And I think you’re a good person.”

“...Thanks?” Puffy wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but his next words made her blood run cold.

“Don’t come to Snowchester tomorrow.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Trust me, don’t come to Snowchester tomorrow,” Jack no longer seemed worried, he seemed dangerous. “I promise nothing bad will happen to Tubbo. I’ll look after him.”

Puffy stared at him, eyes wide, resisting the urge to draw her sword. “And what about Tommy?”

It was the strangest thing, for a second she thought Jack looked smug.

“Trust me, Puffy,” when he spoke there was only cool certainty. “Don’t come to Snowchester tomorrow.”

~*~

Puffy knew what her plans were come morning. She couldn’t warn Tommy and Tubbo. They trusted Jack and if she pushed them away now they would be defenseless when the attack happened. She would do what she could.

Jack seemed surprised when Puffy was there the following day, but he was quick to recover, proceeding as normal. Tubbo rarely wore armor during the day in Snowchester, preferring to just wear a winter coat. Tommy tended to remain suited up. That wasn’t enough to put Puffy at ease. Jack seemed to notice Puffy’s eyes on him. She was sure to keep herself between him and Tommy. Puffy believed him when he said he wouldn’t hurt Tubbo. That was her mistake.

Tubbo’s gasp was the first indication that something was wrong. Puffy whirled around, looking to Tommy immediately, but Tommy was unharmed, if not for his eyes wide in terror and a panicked shout of “Tubbo!”

“Don’t you move, Tommy,” Jack was this distorted combination of calm and mania, A blade pressed to Tubbo’s throat, keeping him in front of him as a shield. “Take another step and the snow turns red.”

“J-Jack–” Tubbo’s eyes remained locked on Tommy, voice trembling as he struggled to comprehend a man he had deemed a friend now had him hostage.

“Quiet,” Jack muttered sharply. He now looked to Puffy, as if daring her to make a decision. Daring her to either call his bluff or decide that Jack would actually hurt Tubbo if need be. Then he looked past her to the treeline.

Puffy had known about Jack Manifold, his attempts at subtlety fell short. He hadn’t even attempted to be secretive, like he somehow thought Puffy wasn’t a threat. An idiot’s mistake. She had seen that enemy coming and had prepared to fight him off and call him a coward for good measure. Puffy could beat a pathetic man who plots to murder teenagers. She had planned on that.

She hadn’t planned on Niki.

Puffy’s first thought in all this had not been betrayal or fear or anger, instead there was guilt. Puffy had been so focused on protecting those without, she had abandoned the person she had first sworn to protect. How could she not have noticed? How could she have let things get this bad? How had they reached a point where Niki was in front of her, sword drawn and turned not against her, but against the kid behind her. Tommy seemed just as shocked by this turn of events, maybe even more by Puffy protecting him than his old friend turned against him. Kindness always seemed to surprise Tommy more than violence. Puffy hadn’t asked, only protected and defended without question as Niki emerged into the shoreline, out for blood.

“Puffy?” Niki was momentarily frozen, staring at Puffy, eyes wide in shock.

“Oh, no,” was all Puffy could think to say, yet both of them shared the same thought, frozen across from each other on opposite sides, why did it have to be you?

“Why are you..?” Niki looked past her to Jack for answers, Jack offered no solace. He cared nothing for lover’s quarrels, instead he remained focused on Tommy and the knife held close to Tubbo’s throat. Tommy didn’t seem to know where to turn, torn between confusion and rage, torn between looking to Tubbo who was in danger and to Niki, whose sword was drawn and in his direction.

“Niki, what’s going on?” Tommy decided to turn to the old friend he still felt like he should trust. “I– I don’t understand,” he turned back to Jack, “whatever the fuck you think you’re doing, if you do anything to him, I’m gonna rip you apart–”

“Oh you won’t get the chance to kill me again, Tommyinnit,” Jack spat in his direction. He tried to reel his partner back in. “Isn’t that right, Niki?”

It was like Niki had momentarily forgotten the rest of them were there, all of her focus on Puffy in front of her, between her and her target.

“Right,” Niki said, but there was no spark behind her words.

“Niki!” Tommy’s surprise seemed to make him finally realize that Niki was there for him. And not with the intention of helping. “What– I– Why?”

This seemed to reawaken her, looking past Puffy to Tommy with something cold in her eyes. “How can you not know?!”

“I… I don’t, I really don’t,” Tommy kept his hands raised in a passive gesture, glancing to Jack and Tubbo regularly. “Well, at least, why Tubbo? He’s done nothing wrong. I know everyone and their mother fuckin’ hates me. Dream told me as much and I’m sorry, Niki. I really am. I’m sorry I got your home blown up and I’m sorry I dragged you into another war, but leave Tubbo out of this, please.”

“Oh, Tubbo will be fine, as long as you behave, Tommy,” Jack said coolly. “Niki, let’s be done with this. Take him out.”

Niki wasn’t ready, she stared at Tommy incredulously. “That’s it? You think… you think I’m here all because of L’Manberg?”

“Well, I expected–”

“Tommy, just shut up! You’re gonna listen to me for once!” Niki’s composure faded into anger. “You’re the reason all this has happened!”

“Niki, think about what you’re doing,” Puffy spoke up again.

“I am thinking about this! It’s all I’ve been doing!” Niki shouted at her, a storm about her in a way both so different and far too similar to the storm Puffy had fallen for. “What’re you even doing here?!”

“I’m here to protect, not to fight. Whatever your reasons, there are other ways to solve this,” Puffy had to talk to her like she wasn’t Niki. She had to treat this clinically otherwise she didn’t know what she might do.

She could only blame herself for the gap between them, her own distractions kept her from helping Niki when she needed her. And here she was, Puffy standing between Niki and Tommy, and Niki is a mess of furious tears and cold conviction. “Get out of the way, Puffy.”

“No.” Puffy would not waver. She would not let the woman she loves turn to violence, she would not sit back while a kid lost his last life to Niki’s misguided bid for justice.

“I said get out of the way!” Niki took a step forward, her sword raised, but unmoving. “Don’t- don’t make me hurt you to get to him!”

“To get to him? Niki…” Puffy was at a loss. She had never expected Niki, her Niki to be the one to start a fight, she had always been there to finish them.

“This is his fault! It’s all his fault. He- It should’ve been him.”

Tommy managed to speak, “w-what? Niki, I don’t understand, why are you–”

“If it had been you and not Wilbur, none of this would’ve happened! We needed Wil to take care of us and we got stuck with you instead,” Niki sounded so accusing, Puffy stepped forward in response, to not only protect Tommy from her sword, but to try and shield him from her view, from her cruel words. Puffy didn’t take her eyes off Niki, but Tubbo saw. Tommy looked as if he had just taken a physical blow, an injury that hurt worse because Tommy couldn’t help but think she was right. “And-And like always you pissed off the wrong people and we had to deal with the consequences!”

Puffy remained calm, despite how much the sight of Niki so distraught wounded her. “He’s a kid–“

“So was I, once!” Niki cut her off sharply, so much rage and grief refusing to relent inside of her. Puffy fell silent, because she could do nothing to change the past. She could only try and prevent a bloody future. “I never caused the kind of damage. I never hurt anyone. And he has and-and someone has got to pay!”

“Why, Niki? Haven’t you all suffered enough?” Puffy’s tone remained as gentle as she could manage, taking one step closer to her. “Please tell me you’re not gonna do this.”

“Puffy, get out of my f-fucking way.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to do this,” Puffy takes a step forward, sword put away and her hands raised, reaching out to Niki’s own trembling hands. “Please… Please don’t try and kill some kid who didn’t know any better. Please don’t make me have to stop you.”

“I have to do this.” Even as Niki said this, she didn’t move, she didn’t push Puffy away, just stood there, sword in her trembling hands. “I started something- and I have to finish it, we-we can’t touch Dream, but if we get rid of Tommy- then this all goes away. If Tommy is dead, Dream won’t need to hurt anyone anymore!”

Puffy reached out and held onto Niki’s hands like they were a delicate thing, like Niki could break any second, like she wasn’t the one holding a weapon. “This won’t bring him back.”

Niki let go.

Puffy let the sword fall and pulled Niki close into a hug, Niki, fighting to be strong for so long, finally collapsed into her embrace, shaking with sobs.

This moment of peace was shattered, Jack at a loss for how things had turned against him so quickly.

“Fine– Fine, I’ll do this myself!” Jack snarled. Then he made a fatal mistake. By virtue of going after Tommy, he had made Tubbo an enemy. One far more dangerous than he could have imagined. Jack decided he could let Tubbo go, shove him aside, and end Tommy once and for all.

The moment the blade was away from Tubbo’s throat, him hitting the ground hard from Jack shoving him away, he grabbed onto Niki’s abandoned sword and in one singular motion he turned and stabbed the blade upward into Jack’s chest, his sword raised over his head to strike Tommy down, instead collapsed with him.

“You even look at Tommy and I’ll kill you again. I don’t care how many lives you’ve got,” Tubbo stood over Jack, who was fading quickly, and stepped on the open wound for good measure. “I hope you understand me, Jack Manifold. ‘Cause this is your only warning. You better hope I never see you again.”

Jack was dead before Tubbo had finished his threat.

Tommy, not caring for the blood on his best friend’s coat, threw his arms around him. “Holy shit, man! That was badass as hell!”

Tubbo managed a grin, tearing his eyes away from Jack’s corpse. He would deal with that betrayal later. Today had been enough. Instead he looked to Puffy and Niki, unsure of where to go from here. Tommy did the same, staring at Niki. He didn't look angry. That surprised Puffy. Tommy, always the first to rage and shout and make noise, and he stayed silent, looking at Niki, he only looked sad.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Puffy pressed a kiss onto the top of Niki’s head, taking her hand in hers. “I think we need to talk.”

Puffy spared a glance behind her, where the two boys watched them walk away, unsure of how to thank her or even fully process what Puffy had just done for them. They didn’t need to. Puffy had done her duty as a knight, but now she had to make up for lost time. She had to hold onto Niki until she felt whole again. Niki didn’t know anything for certain right now, not in all of this, but some part of her hoped that things would still be okay, so long as she had Puffy’s hand to hold.

[kudalyn]

Here they are, my darling Clothdragons. After lots of thought and effort here they are up for sale! Price is set, no negotiation.

These are a Closed Species, for more information read here!

Names are just placeholders, feel free to rename them!

1. Gourd (Open) 2: Bait (owned by Midderoo-von-Fluffins on FA) 3: Stripe (owned by HazelCapulus) 4: Spring (Open)

How to Adopt: - Before claiming or commenting, please read the rules for ownership and species guidelines HERE - If interested in adopting, please be clear in your comment! And be clear which option you're interested in! - PLEASE only adopt if you are sincere in owning this character and using them. They are not to be collected and shelved. - Please only claim if you are ready to pay. Payment upfront before you receive the design and ownership. - Paypal only, USD only. I will PM you for details once you've been cleared for ownership! I use invoices. - No holding, sorry! Only claim if you're serious about owning one.

(crossposed to other galleries fyi!)

[cheerfulomelette]

Cheerful Omelette outside of Tumblr

If you're planning on leaving tumblr for less volatile platforms, but want to keep up with me and my work, you can find me at the following sites.

In no particular order, the sites where I'm most active:

cheerfulomelette.co.uk - my main site; WordPress-based and linked to wordpress.com

@cheerfulomelet - Twitter; I'm pretty active, but also very vocal about politics. (Note spelling. Twitter's limit on username length is one character too short)

@cheerfulomelette - Instagram; wips and finished images, crossposed to Twitter, so you can get the art without the opinions.

Omuniversity.net - the Online Manga University; an old-school forum for learning how to draw and paint.

And sites where I'm less active:

Facebook.com/cheerfulomelette - Facebook; crossposts from Instagram. Not updated in its own right.

@cheerfulomelette@mastodon.art - mastodon; this is new and I'm still trying to figure out what to do with it.

Pa-kalsha.deviantart.com - DeviantArt; finished pieces, as and when I remember it exists.

[milesyart]

Site Update

A lot's happening right now.  None of which is actually making videos.  I'm kind of taking an unannounced break while I get some other work done. So, what is going on?  Well, I'm actually working on putting all of my stuff up on my site.  And you've already seen some of that, since it's all getting crossposed and queued to Tumblr, as well as put up on Pinterest. I figured I should start actually using all these tools I have, so for the next vague amount of time, this is what I'm doing. The reason I'm doing this is to make sure that everything that should have been posted gets posted.  A lot of stuff has been falling through the cracks lately, so I'm putting together a system to make sure that doesn't happen. This means a lot of little changes across a lot of sites as I work toward making them all connect together a little more easily.  Unfortunately, I still cannot seem to get PayPal to reliably deliver content, so purchasable patterns will remain on Commiss.io.  Patrons will continue to have access to all patterns, and I think I finally got you guys updated yesterday.  All patterns will eventually be posted here, and crossposted to Tumblr and Pinterest.  Most videos will be getting the same treatment.  Over the next little bit of time, you'll be seeing posts in huge batches.  Once I get the backlog all taken care of, you'll start to see posts go up in a more organic sort of way.  Videos, with related patterns following, basically. At the rate things are going, I expect to be mostly MIA for about another week.  It's not difficult work, but there's a lot of work to do, and it's stupidly tedious.  I'll be back when it's all done.

https://ift.tt/2OFizI0

[silverdancer]

2017: fic year in review

Crossposing from LJ since I seem to use this more now than that, even though I don’t use it for fic that much. It seems a good idea to have a backup I guess? :D 

Here we go!

(say hi to the surprise players this year)

Wordcounts and Statistics

☆ Total number of stories worked on: 13 (3+8 drabbles for vixxmas+2 WIPS)

☆ Total number of completed stories: 11

☆ Fandoms written in: VIXX, Weki Meki

☆ Total (finished) word count: AO3 says 14631 words (299 words more than last year!)

☆ July

Great friends, a gas tank (and a piece of cake) (6k, hakyeon/hongbin)

☆ September

With your whole heart (5,4k, yoojung/doyeon)

when the lights go down (211, jaehwan/wonshik)

☆ December

magic is something you make (223, hakyeon/taekwoon)

it looks bigger on the inside (312, gen)

millions of roses (346, jaehwan/wonshik)

finding paradise (613, hakyeon/hongbin)

if puppies could talk (315, gen)

first attempt in learning (f. a. i. l.) (644, hakyeon/taekwoon)

look carefully (252, jaehwan/wonshik)

it's something we do (263, hakyeon/hongbin)

Overall

☆ Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? While currently I am a little disappointed (because I have a fic almost finished that it's resisting to end), looking back at my expectations at the beginning of the year, I definitely wrote more than I expected I know that wordwise is very similar and that I actually wrote less stories than last year, but the fics themselves are longer, so that's something that I'm very proud of.

☆ What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? For pairing, kenvi! I know that they are super boyfriends but I never expected that I'd write, or plot, fics not centered around Hakyeon.

But to be honest, while I love thinking about it and reading it, I never thought I would be writing WekiMeki fic either! So that was a very happy surprise too!

☆ What’s your own favorite story of the year? The one I didn't manage to finish. It's completely self indulgent.

Ironically, any of the ones that I wrote for vixxmas. All of them are parts of a bigger fic that I told someone at some point, so I was very excited to write even a little snippet of them, and I cherish them a lot.

☆ Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? Aiming for bigger goals overall. I learned that it's possible, just that I need a little more time than what it would take the average writer. I'm still coming to terms with that, but every finished story gets me a little closer.

☆ Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year? Write more neo! Definitely! For how much I love them, I don't write about them as much?? And that can't be. Also keeping up with the lenght growth.

☆ My goals from last year were to write fic that wasn't for someone else (which I tried) and to write girl group fic (which I did!)

☆ From my past year of writing, what was…

★ My best story of this year

I think that Nbin roadtrip AU. It took me 6 months, but it's the first story that I actually edited and reread before posting it and I'm very very happy with the result.

★ My most popular story of this year Going by the numbers, Nbin roadtrip AU hands down. It has the best hits:kudos ratio, and the highest number of kudos, bookmarks AND comments. That doesn't mean that the dodaeng one did badly though!

★ Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion Difficult to say, because a handful of the stories were posted the same day I'm writing this, but probably the one where taekwoon and wonshik argue over who's puppy is cuter, because it's gen and no one reads gen.

★ Most fun story to write none because writing HURTS AND IT'S A PAIN AND Actually... all of them were very very fun to write. Of course, the crack ones on the vixxmas were specially done to be fun, but I also had lots of fun writing the nbin and dodaeng one, and the kenvi was a delight??? even if it was super short, it was great.

★ Story with the single sexiest moment The one with Wonshik going to see Jaehwan perform as Hamlet. Hands down. There's something about writing kisses, almost kisses, that I love and find super sexy, even more than actual kisses. The anticipation of the feeling, the electricity... perfect.

★ Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story If something had to go in here, it would be the one with wonshik and taekwoon fighting because the title and description and everything but the tags is intentionally misleading.

★ Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters The dodaeng fic. I liked them but having to write about them meant knowing them on a different level, and that of course changed things.

★ Hardest story to write Nbin roadtrip AU, the editing part was a PAIN. But in the end it was worth it.

★ Biggest disappointment I am mostly disappointed on the fics that I couldn't write, or finish. Very. Because I was very set onto but life got in the way.

★ Biggest surprise The dodaeng, aka the second fic with more than 3k! I didn't think I would be able to do it, although I had hopes.

Highlights + Wrap-up

☆ Favourite Opening Lines (3) 1.

"Doyeon-ah, I'm going to get married."

2.

Hakyeon has heard stories. Of magic going beyond the canvas, of figures getting out of their painting. Jaehwan told them all, that time they were displayed side by side, all those years ago.

3.

Wonshik should have suspected something when Jaehwan had asked him to take pictures of his fake tattoo while they were filming the music video.

☆ Favourite Closing Lines (3)

1.

Hongbin's only answer is to lean forward, and close the distance between them.

2.

"Yeah," Yoojung agreed, "me too," sighing softly before kissing her again.

3.

Hongbin learns about Hakyeon's birthday the first week of June.

☆ Favorite 5 Line(s) from Anywhere

1.

(And what if for a moment he wished he was in that position again, feeling his lips hovering close, teasing. Until he finally leaned in. And what if he gasped, the memory of that kiss feeling too real. Of his hands sneaking under, of his quiet laugh against his neck)

2.

He can almost hear Jaehwan's voice telling him to wait, wait until he's far away so there's less chance of getting caught, remembers the feeling of the cool sheets on his back and the way he was tickling his arm as he did, and laughs a little to himself, because Wonshik has never been good at being patient.

3.

Now that he's facing the reality of wearing knives on his shoes he might be having second thoughts.

4.

"I can enjoy nice things," he manages to retort, a second too late, "I just don't think that... thing can be called nice."

5.

"What," Hongbin snaps. All of them are looking at him curiously from their seats, and Hongbin tries very hard to not blush. "You're staring," Sanghyuk says as he gets back to his seat after making sure he has his full attention, "again." "I wasn't staring," Hongbin denies. Wonshik stifles a laugh from the other side of the car at that and Hongbin squints at him.

And... that's it! If someone even read this, thank you for sticking around!! ♥

[mm462]

Poem: Wordspiller (for Kit Marlowe) Updated

Poem: Wordspiller (for Kit Marlowe) Updated

Photo by Ruca Souza on Pexels.com

So you are the spiller of words, almost as far from me as Beowulf is to you.

Wordspiller, your crosspose outstands me, but I backthink the falling choirs where you sadwalked

your summerwaiting mind, to when your glories were mere airthought,

like the Greathallow who once shorestepped there to see for himself

your forliving Angles (he oncebethought angels) and their…

[dimsxnian]

"Now!" Sepia called, Crobat going head on into the Fire Blast!!

What is he doing!? Is he Crazy!?

"Now - CrossPosion again!" He called. How can he be so sure Crobat was still up!? Well, she hadn't fallen. It wasn't so obnoxious if one thought about it - and a Easy way to Damage the Foe!

Though....the downside is Crobat would be quite Damaged.

(( @dimsxnian - from my too much Self Loving Boi Sepia-)) « you’re face to face with greatness »

“I should be telling you that, I am the undefeated champion of the Galar region.”

@dimsxnian

[lady-zi]

about beaty (and lies)

Summary:

They told him he was beautiful.

He knew they lied.

_._._._._._._

Everything happened too fast. A car driven into oncoming traffic, the screech of brakes, someone's screaming, then a head-on collision and then… Pain. Pain-pain-pain… All his being was filled with sheer pain.

The last thing he saw was glass. Splinters of glass. Sharp splinters. And then there was pitch darkness.

And only then came the saving abyss of unconsciousness.

***

It was dark. And frightening.

But it would never be any other way.

***

Beauty had been his faithful companion throughout all his life. He had pretty face, nice blonde hair, bright eyes… It made him look lovely. It gave him a lovely façade. And no one but his mother cared what he had inside. Adrien was nothing but a pretty puppet in the eyes of his own father.

After that accident his good looks were gone, having waved goodbye with a white-and-red hankie and covering him with a black blanket.

But he hadn't realised that at first.

'Cause he was unable to see.

And those, who were, lied.

***

"You are beautiful, Adrien, but we don't need you to model for the photo shoots from now on. But you are truly beautiful," but Adrien felt it was a huge lie. His father lied. Natalie lied. They all lied.

"But still, I have some scars left, don't I?"

"They are really subtle, son–" yet Adrien could hear pity in his father's voice.

"Why don’t I have any shoots any more?"

"We've experienced severe budget cuts and financial troubles, and, besides, people are getting a little bit tired of you–". Yet business was booming (otherwise, how could Gabriel afford all these new expensive purchases?) and other top models had been a part of the industry for dozens of years. (Adrien wasn't even fifteen).

"But, possibly, can I still somehow–?"

"We already have too many models, so just relax and have a rest!" And after that Adrien could hear his father scolding some staff on the phone for inability to find a proper model for the incoming shoot.

People always turn away their heads, avert their eyes. They lie. And Adrien could see that.

They thought if he couldn't see anything physically, he couldn't realise. They were wrong. He wasn't so blind.

Lies. Lies-lies-lies. Lies were everywhere. He didn't trust people any longer. They only lied and pitied him. Pitied him and lied.

He could feel scars with his hands.

He could feel lies with his heart.

He was not beautiful anymore. And he knew that. He knew he was never truly beautiful in the first place.

***

But then speaking and (most likely) flying something broke into his life. And then he met her.

And then he believed her.

***

He felt like his life became full of colours again (even despite the fact that it was completely impossible). She became his invisible ray of light, a ray of light for his lost soul.

She wasn't lying. She wasn't pitying him. She had no reason to do so.

***

"You are beautiful".

It was said with artless sincerity.

"Thank you."

[dimsxnian]

"Yeah! Well done Crobat!" Sepia gave her a thumbs up, making her feel happy, "Now - CrossPosion!"

Now he feels much more Safe to Attack - having Charziard confused! But knows he has to stay Focus or else something terrible could happen. He doesn't want that.

Crobat brought the tips of her Large Wings together and went in for the Attack, a Purple X forming.

(( @dimsxnian - from my too much Self Loving Boi Sepia-)) « you’re face to face with greatness »

“I should be telling you that, I am the undefeated champion of the Galar region.”

@dimsxnian