#era: shake you up

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Teehee! (Spritesheets your Wangxian)

[rookeryyy]

REINVENT

YOURSELF

tumblr HATES my 44.1mb image swag so it has SO MUCH COMPRESSION and downsizing here. :') peep the actual intended size & quality (or as good as i could get it exported)

post-return Q!Tubbo :] Tee hee.

un hamburgesa para tubbo (he lookied ungry)

[sforzesco]

I got. thoughts. about valens and voices in imperial roman history. but I also got a lot of thoughts about uhhhhhh choosing your brother for co ruling the Fratricide Foundation Story Empire. many thoughts about themistius' oration too

Brotherly Love, Themistius (trans. Peter Heather & David Moncur)

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta

[rainroses45]

Rain, Please Never Go Away

Description: You try to stop Harry from running into the house and leaving a mess, while he tries to stop the water from escaping. (James Potter x Wife!Reader) (Mom Reader & Harry Potter) A/n: I was watching one of my favorite shows (bluey) and I could not stop crying to this amazing episode so here is my take on it :) NOT EDITED AT ALL Song Inspo: Rainbow - Bluey Warnings: None zip zero nada

"We'll be back darling," James called out to the two of you. The boys had to go finish some paperwork for tomorrows early mission, leaving you alone in the house with your son.

"I don't know why we couldn't have taken the bike," Sirius grumbled from the backseat of the Ford Escort. "It would have been far more exciting than riding this hunk of junk."

"Frankly my dear, I don't give damn," Remus readjusted his rear view mirror starring at his husband in annoyance. "And I quite enjoy having all my bones in tact to answer your question."

"It was one time!" Sirius shouted causing Harry to let out a giggle.

You stood on the front porch of your house with Harry in your arms watching as your three troglodytes argue with one another.

The pot of English Pearls you had outside, hanging from the exterior of the railing, swayed with the wind. The sky was still clear but the wind gave its surprise shower away. "Surely, the storm won't be here till tomorrow," you thought.

"Be careful," you yelled as you saw them begin to pull out of the driveway. Harry waved his hands, shouting continuous "goodbyes" and "I love yous."

"I love you two so much," James smiled as he sent air kisses to Harry and you, his window still rolled down in order to hear your voices.

"We love you to dada!" Harry jumped up and down on your hip trying to see the car over the tall trees. All that could be heard as a response was a couple of laughs and coos for the young five year boy.

"Okay angel, I'm going to go start on dinner," you carried him inside, closing the door behind you. "Would you like to help or would you like to go play?"

"Can I play in living room?" He asked, looking at your hair as he fiddled with the strands. You thanked Godric he no longer had the habitat of pulling your hair anymore.

"Of course love," you set him down on the carpet, before heading to the kitchen to make dinner.

You opened the pantry to see what you could make tonight. Maybe a soup, or some sandwiches - in the end you decided to make tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Just as you finished cutting off the crust of Harry's sandwich, you heard the strum of pitter patters on the window. Quickly you looked out the window above the kitchen sink and saw that the sky had darken. Without a second thought you grabbed the empty laundry basket near the sofa and ran outside.

A confused Harry followed along behind you, soon falling behind as he mesmerized at the water coming down from the clouds. He soon dashed his way to happy green grass and enjoyed the rain drops.

You on the other hand headed to the side of the house, quickly pulling down the clothes from the clips on the line and shoving them into the basket. "Out of all the days it decided to rain, why on earth now?" You muttered as you tried to take down all the clothes as fast as you could, laughing a bit at James's soaked unicorn boxers.

"Mum can we play in the rain?" Harry asked as he spun around on the grass looking up at the rain falling from the sky.

"Just for a while darling, I don't want you to get sick," you replied before entering the house and placing all the clothes in the mud room. You stretched them out on the counters before heading outside to watch Harry.

The gentle fall of the rain from the roof through the gutter, soothed the house as its magic came to life. Your little garden you and your husband started began to dance with joy with the clouds tears just as your son did.

Harry giggled and laughed as he felt the squishing of the mud beneath his feet. He stuck his tongue out to catch raindrops, feeling a rush of happiness in the weather - when something caught his eye. A funny growing trail of rain water began to follow down the stoney path of their porch towards the empty road.

Jumping into stream on the path, he laughed as the cold water splashed against his ankles. You saw him jumping in the stream of water, and let out a soft smile. If only you have your camera right now to take a photo of this memory.

"Harry, darling," you called out, "I'm going to get an umbrella for you." Your son continued to jump in the stream completely infatuated with it, "okay mum."

Watching as the water flowed, Harry put his two feet together watching as the stream began to build up. Soon it tried escaping his little wall, until he placed both of his hands down and tried stopping it once more.

Looking around he tried to find something to help stop it, and when you came out with the umbrella an idea struck. Without another thought he quickly ran to your arms grabbing the umbrella and running back to stop the flow. You looked pleased at first, thinking he was going to use it to not get wet, but then you were soon let down. "If that is not James's kid I don't know at this point," you thought, grumbling as you walked back inside.

Although in his mind it did seem like a wonderful idea to use the umbrella, he then realized that it would fly backwards as the weight of the build of water was too heavy for him to hold.

Closing it, he threw it away and soon decided on finding another way. In his five year old mind, your son decided to use the newspaper on the lawn to stop the flow of the water. That idea also failed him, so quickly he went inside, startling you with the slamming of the front door as he ran towards his room.

Carrying four toy blocks in his hands he ran towards the front door, but was soon stopped by you.

"Harry James Potter!" You yelled, "look at the mess you made, where is the umbrella I gave you?" You asked as you pointed towards the muddy shoe prints on the floor.

"Mum I'm sorry but I-" He tried explaining but you kept talking about the mess on the floor. Harry tried wiping it away with his foot but it just made you sigh.

"Go," you pointed outside annoyed to which he gladly left to go complete his mission.

This process continued over five more times to the point you even tried barricading the open front door with your body to which harry swiftly made it through any open gaps left. Curse those stupid quidditch practices.

Finally you ended up giving up, leaving the front door open and sitting on a chair outside. You watched as Harry ran back and forth from the house to the path trying to stop the run off of water. The little wall made out of newspaper, towels, blocks, and boxes outside the path made you smile. Even if your house is a mess, its living with excitement.

Harry put his feet on the side of the other and placed his hands the same way as before trying to finish off this little wall. And as the water slowly began to reach his hands he soon realized he wasn't going to make it. There was still a gap left.

Disappointed and sad, he prayed that the water would stop at his finger tips but it didn't seem it was going to end that way. To his great surprise, you walked up from behind and placed your feet on the side of his hands.

"I thought you didn't want to make a mess mum?" Harry looked up at you, his face finally clear of the rain thanks to the umbrella you held above you.

"I learned that a little mess isn't something we should fuss about love," you shrugged, smiling down at your son.

"Mum, quick, its going to escape!" Harry said as he watched the water begin to turn over your sneakers.

You looked up at the umbrella and smiled before throwing to the floor and placing your hands next to your feet.

"I don't think we are going to make it Harry," you said as the water began to flow farther than your hand could stop.

"We need more blocks." Harry said, just before he was about to get up a pair of shoes appeared next to your hands.

"Look like you might need a little help."

"Dad!" Harry looked up to see his father. James was completely soaked from head to toe but he didn't care. He just wanted to be home.

"Darling I thought you had to finish some paperwork?" You smiled up at your husband.

"Canceled the mission because of the weather." He shrugged, "and plus how would you two ever survive without me? I mean look how the stream almost escaped- OW!" James crouched down to hold shin. "What was that for?!"

Harry tried holding in a laugh at his dads pained expression.

"That was for criticizing us," you smiled, "and this is for helping us." You gave him a peck on the lips causing a faint blush to appear on James's face.

"Ewwwwww!" Harry twisted his face in disgust.

"Oh pack it up Romeo," James said as he tried stealing another kiss from you.

Gosh you really did love you family.

i kinda of rushed it a bit at the end but potato potatoe 🦦 (also i’m kind of crying BECAUSE WHY WAS THAT EPISODE SO BEAUTIFUL) also im out of storage soooooooo I don't know what to do

[savterifuckedup]

so, in the episode called nebraska, dexter sees brian for the first time in YEARS and the two are going to nebraska where they're the only characters that have enough history with each other to be considered lovers. i guess thanks for validating my mosercest feels... i knew i could count on brian not being able to keep it in secret🥰 

[hamletthedane]

The problem with Shakespeare is that you gotta space it out a little. If you consume too much of it at one time, it’ll alter your brain chemistry in a deep, irrevocable way, and then one decade and an English degree later, you’re still somehow blogging about Hamlet in your free time and become completely incapacitated for weeks on end every time you re-watch a performance of it

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[flyingdreamerwriter]

Sad jegulus

-Anxious Regulus

[iamthepulta]

Going down the rabbit hole of mercury poisoning and archaeological toxicology in South America has me losing my mind. I'm overwhelmed and out of my league but it feels like all the pieces are fitting into place and they're all bad and I can't stop now.

[jellicle-chants]

Guess what I just found in my drafts that I meant to publish like... a year ago 🥴🙃🥲 Anyway, have some details about my CATS Speakeasy AU! I'm really hoping to get back around to this in more detail sometime soonish, so better to study up now...

Munk is the adopted son of Old Deut, who raised many such foundlings and in general created a safe place for anyone who didn't have one. In the narrative of the AU, he's trying to solve one of Macavity's plots (probably some kind of kidnapping situation). He also takes care of Jemima, who was left on his doorstep in an echo of his own origin. Plato tags along as his apprentice, although he's not often helpful with his two younger brothers, Tumblebrutus and Pouncival, getting in his way.

The titular speakeasy, The Smitten Kitten, is co-run by Deme and Bomba, as a way to get back on their feet after escaping from Macavity (along with Alonzo, who plays piano). Tugger is also here, doing miscellaneous jobs and generally being an obnoxious flirt. Romances are undefined as of now but definitely happen.

Bustopher Jones is a British expat who moved to the US with his housekeeper (and requited crush) Jennyanydots, in a misguided attempt to straighten out his godchildren/wards, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. It does not go well, especially when Munk needs to call on the twins' troublemaking abilities to infiltrate Macavity's lair.

Some other things I've worked out, but haven't managed to integrate into the main plot yet:

Jellylorum and Asparagus (Gus Jr) run a struggling off-Broadway theatre started by their father. In between shows, they rent out the stage to Cassandra and Misto, who alternate their acts, and a spare dressing room to Coricopat and Tantomile. The twins, Cass, and Misto all met in the circus, but split off because of mistreatment and nonpayment. Victoria joined Misto's act after failing to find work as a ballet dancer elsewhere, and the two now brand themselves as siblings. The group don't mean to take advantage of the siblings, but attendance is inconsistent, to say the least. Of course, Jelly and Gus Jr would never kick them out — they know their father would loathe to see the building closed even temporarily.

Skimbleshanks is a trolley driver. (I know this entry is comically short compared to the last one, but I imagine he'd just pop up occasionally throughout the story. Sometimes simpler is better.)

I really want to fit Algernonny (my OC) in here somewhere, but I haven't settled on anything yet. Maybe he drives a bookmobile??

Olivetti (my other OC) is a bit easier to place, since he'd be a reporter, but I'm not sure what effect he'd have on the story at large.

Some relationships (familial, platonic, and romantic) I want to emphasize:

None of Munk/Tugger/Mac are related, nor are any of them directly related to Old Deut. In my eyes, Macavity has always worked better as an entity lurking in the shadows than someone who is well-known and emotionally tied to the other characters.

Re: the Smitten Kitten bunch, I haven't untangled who I want them and Munk to end up with (or maybe they just all end up together?). There will definitely be some one-sided Platugger flirting because I can. (Algie/Alonzo is also a done deal, but that doesn't mean Alonzo doesn't get to participate here too.)

I haven't decided whether I go the Victeazer or Tantoteazer route yet. I'm leaning towards Mistojerrie though as a new thing for me.

Asparagus and Skimbleshanks will end up being a thing, because I can't get enough of them two <3

I haven't decided if I want Jenny to be Plato (etc.)'s mom. It would be easier to tie that household into the main goings-on that way, but also (if you couldn't tell) I'm trying to improvise on a lot of these characters and come up with new relations -- at least for the ones for whom I don't already have a ship I'm attached to.\

[spark-circuit]

me at my bookstore job to the 27th young adult straight edgy fantasy romance to come in this month

[caroldanversenthusiast]

for real

[get-back-homeward]

Davidwache Police Station | Painting by Klaus Voormann Prior to being deported, Paul McCartney spends a night in the Davidwache police station.

In the meantime, the final four could start playing [at the Top Ten club] now, and move themselves into the bunk-bed accommodation at the top of the building.c Tony Sheridan was already here, possibly others too, and the Beatles were welcome to shoehorn themselves in. It was neither the Ritz nor the pits. John was the first to move. Then Paul and Pete went back to the Bambi to grab their gear.

The place was in near darkness, as usual. They had to strike a match to see their way about … and then they decided to leave Koschmider a little gift. Pete had a few “spunk bags,” and he and Paul had the idea to hang them on nails in the wall in the long concrete passageway and set light to them. “The place was dank and dark,” says Pete. “They spluttered, they stank, and OK, maybe they singed a tiny bit of tapestry on the wall. It caused nothing but a little smoke and a few scorch marks and then they went out.”41 It was the ultimate fuck you, Bruno, or so they thought.

They got to play one night in the Top Ten, and it seems to have been a good one, pulling business away from the Kaiserkeller, but it was just this one night. Having been shafted once by Eckhorn, when he’d prized away the Jets and Tony Sheridan from the Kaiserkeller, Koschmider wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen again. He might also have guessed the Beatles would make some grand gesture for his “benefit”—they could even have hinted of it—because an inspection was made of the Bambi’s rooms very quickly. When the stinkende qualmende Piedeltüten were found, he decided to form the view it was an attempt to burn down his cinema, and informed the police.

The chronology of events over the next twenty-four hours is rife with confusion and contradiction, but may have gone something like this. Paul was picked up by the police while walking along the Reeperbahn, taken by car to the Davidwache police station (two hundred meters from the Top Ten) and locked in a cell. Pete and John were also arrested. Koschmider didn’t know which of them was responsible for the “attempted arson,” so the Polizei rounded them all up. As Stuart wrote in a letter back to Liverpool a few days later:

I am living in the lap of luxury and contentment. Better than the cell I spent a night in last week. I was innocent this time though accused of arson—that is, setting fire to the Kino (cinema) where we sleep. I arrive at the club and am informed that the whole of Hamburg Police are looking for me. The rest of the band are already locked up, so smiling and very brave on the arm of Astrid, I proceed to give myself up. At this time I’m not aware of the charge. All my belongings, including spectacles, are taken away and I’m led to a cell where without food or drink I sat for six hours on a very wooden bench, the door shut very tight. I fall asleep at two in the morning. I signed a confession written in Deutsch that I knew nothing about a fire, and they let me go.42

John was also allowed to go. It was now clear who’d done the dirty deed, and for them the ordeal continued; Paul would always remember the little one-way peephole in the door of their detention room, through which he sensed they were watched. It seems he and Pete were then allowed to leave, but a few hours later—early the following morning—they were dragged out of their Top Ten bunk beds and interviewed a second time. Pete suggests they were taken to Hamburg’s main prison at Fühlsbuttel, Paul remembers it being “the Rathaus … it doesn’t mean rat house, it just felt like one.” They were interviewed by an official of the Bundeskriminalamt (Federal CID), one Herr Gerkins, and it was definitely inadvisable to snigger. Instead, they requested permission to contact the British Embassy, like people did in the films, and were refused; then they were taken for a car ride. “We tried our best to persuade him it was nothing,” Paul says, “and he said, ‘OK fine, well you go with these men.’ And that was the last we knew of it. We just headed out with these couple of coppers. And we were getting a bit ‘Oh dear, this could be the concentration camps’—you never know. It hadn’t been that long [since the war].”43

Criminal charges were not pressed, but Koschmider, inevitably, had the last laugh. It wasn’t a camp to which Paul and Pete were being taken, but the airport—and in handcuffs, according to Stuart. They were being deported, and banned from reentering Germany unless they lodged an appeal within a month. Auf Wiedersehen, Piedels! Handed their passports at the gate, they were put on the London plane, set to fly for the first time in their lives. It then got even tastier for Koschmider because Eckhorn was billed for at least part of the cost of the plane tickets. Bruno must have been rubbing his hands with joy.

—Tune In, Ch. 17 (Oct 1–Dec 31, 1960)

Sources: 41 Author interview, March 7, 1985. Pete says (Beatle!, p72) there were four rubbers and always speaks of them in plural, Paul speaks of one. 42 December 12, 1960, sent to Ken Horton. This letter provides the only suggestion that John was arrested in the roundup; he’s not mentioned in other accounts. 43 Interview by Paul Gambaccini, Rolling Stone, June 12, 1979. Rathaus means “city hall.” Instead of the main prison at Fühlsbuttel, it’s more likely Paul and Pete were taken to the remand prison near St. Pauli called Untersuchungsgefängnis (easier done than said).

[welcometoteyvat]

Xingqiu slumps onto his desk, defeated. The deadline for a special volume of A Legend of Sword is scarcely three nights away, and yet he still hasn’t progressed past the first fight sequence. Every word he pens feels inadequate, his characters are becoming more and more crooked, and the sentences are crawling away from him like silkworms off the page—one, two, three, four… Wait—but the next arc… His valiant unnamed hero will claim a narrow victory against the Tai-Shogun’s cyborg samurai, and then—and then…

When Xingqiu’s eyelids flutter open again, the lantern by his window has dimmed considerably. He cannot have dozed off for that long, can he?

At least his father and brother are asleep. It would be best if they never find out about his sleeping schedule.

The shadow of his hand is so sharp against the pages of his lantern-lit draft. Xingqiu traces the ridges of his knuckles, a flickering black silhouette on the page beneath it. From this angle, it almost looks like a dragon’s mouth, one of the Natlan kinds… Maybe he’ll be able to see one in person someday…

He should try to finish this chapter, since it’s almost done anyways… Oh, but didn’t Calx mention something about their alchemy experiments in their last letter? Perhaps they know a potion that could increase his inspiration… it wouldn’t be too late to ask about it, right?

His eyes shut slowly.

“—qiu. Xingqiu. Hey, bookworm. Aren’t you a sorry sight, hm?” Someone is poking his shoulder. He wishes they would stop. He knows that voice. It—

“…Wh— Hu Tao? Isn’t it late? How did you even get in?” Where is she? Xingqiu can only stare blearily in the direction of her voice, strangely disembodied in the pitch-black room.

“The same way I always do; don’t tell me you already forgot? Anyways, there was business at Wuwang Hill tonight. It takes a long time to walk back.” There's rustling, the tap-tap of shoes against the sandalwood floor, and then a crackling of fire as Xingqiu's lantern flickers to life again. It illuminates Xingqiu’s room, his manuscript, and the girl leaning against his desk, idly twirling her hat round her thumb. A smile dances across Hu Tao’s peach blossom eyes, and her merry lips quirk up at the corners, greeting him warmly. Xingqiu is impressed by her liveliness at such an hour; anyone normal would never be in such a good mood in this dead of night. Of course, Hu Tao has never settled for normalcy. And he would be delighted to see her any other time, but…

“Hu Tao, I appreciate your visit, but you should head back to Wangsheng. I need to focus, and you should rest too.” Xingqiu straightens in his chair, and immediately grimaces—his back is aching. Hu Tao’s eyes narrow, and Xingqiu resigns himself. He’s never been able to hide much from her: not his double standards, his avoidance, his fatigue.

“You’ve been in this slump for at least a week, and you’re still putting on a brave face? It’s unbecoming for a chivalric hero to refuse help in dire straits, Xingqiu.” Hu Tao’s voice is rarely so serious, and Xingqiu can feel her studying him, her gaze quietly burning. He looks away. When had she become so adept at instilling that indescribable feeling of shame-guilt in him?

“How long have you been working on this dialogue? You know, inspiration won’t strike you like a lightning bolt in this dead of night, or it would’ve already.”

“I—” Xingqiu looks back at the draft. The last sentence trails off illegibly, and there are ink splatters all over the page—it seems his brush control is no better with less sleep. He sighs.

“Aiya… look at you, already so despondent. Isn’t your deadline still three midnights away? Come on, you’re already turning into a dull and uninspired young master. If you go on like this, soon I won’t have anyone to trade verses with anymore.”

“Hey! I’m not becoming dull or uninspired! I just… I just need a bit more time.” Yeah, that’s it. He just needs to get used to the flow of his story again. After all, there’s never been another way out, has there?

“Hm. Whatever you say, young master. Listen, let me tell you about the hanged ghost mystery that cropped up a week ago; it’ll send chills down your spine for sure. I guarantee it would make for an incredible plot point!” There’s a warm lilt in Hu Tao’s voice—a rare teasing fondness that makes Xingqiu raise his head. She is looking at him expectantly, eyes alight with the promise of a good story, words waiting to spill from her lips like the sweet melody of just-ready rice wine.

Really, this girl. It’s scary how much she understands him.

“Oh? Then, if it pleases Master Hu to continue, my attention is all hers.”

———

notes: i have no idea how hu tao could get into his room tbh i just accept she's better at being a prankster than i am lmao. peach blossom eyes does not just refer to hu tao's pupils, it's an eye shape classification! i thought it fits her <3 (putting this note here since I already described it like that 2x) also just imagine that xingqiu usually has relatively fast reflexes but he's eepy and tired so he isn't as alert against intruders. also, smiles serenely. they could be each other's muses and inspirations (high honor). this is rlly just xingqiu going through The Horrors (writers block) but i hope it's decent i love him dearly. i dont actually know if hu tao was written that well tbh something about writing in limited perspective kinda fucks me up idk. the more i look at this the more things i find wrong with it but i need to be free from it now or it's never getting done

also this is irrelevant to this snippet but i choose to believe in shit eyesight xingqiu who got the teyvat equivalent of contacts and/or lasik eye surgery. he would've needed glasses but he doesn't want to look like an Old Man!!!! (baizhu: ._. )

[thepiedsniper]

The only important thing about writing doctor who is that there is a brain cell and a sass cell, and the doctor and the companion take turns sharing them

[theinfinitedivides]

having enough awareness even with multiple holes in you to know that 1. someone obviously has it f*cking out for you and 2. the detective that just came into your house to arrest you for murder has no idea what your ex sugar baby just set him up with. i could never