#hopefully this was ok to post

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[kitamars]

doodles as i relive my spideyman phase from eighth grade

[peachdalooza]

some grief Paulings

[teamunee]

happy new year everywan!!!

[asteraws]

my clown college grad project from december last year 🎪

[soiers]

futile attempt at self-preservation

[umblrspectrum]

my text disappeared here when i posted. what happened

[ptr-sqloint]

lab grown angel wip

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what kind of underwear do you think Erik and Charles wear (i'm not asking this to see them half naked) ((please believe me)) (((PLEASE)))

My Personal Belief is charles is a briefs guy while erik's a trunks guy. trunks/briefs kinda couple because i can

and idk just a lil bonus or somethin. as i do.

[pinkhairswagtourney]

help a disabled nonbinary lesbian get their life back together

hi everyone. i'm shroom and you've probably seen my posts before. my life is still a shitshow and nothing is coming together like it should. can't find a job, can't save up for a car, can't save up to escape this abusive household. bare necessities like food and medication and doctor's appointments take every last cent that i have. i'm also dealing with c0vid right now and it's kicking my ass completely; i've spent the better part of the last two weeks laying in my bed. i can't even complete commissions my energy is so low.

please help me. i'm hungry, and i'm tired, and i can't do this on my own. i don't have IRLs to help me like most people do. please send a few dollars my way or spread this post or commission me, anything so that i can move forward instead of sitting still and rotting away

commissions post p-yp-l c-sh-pp k-fi

[yrael]

finished isat and had to make some memes about it

[toxiccaves]

Animated Metal Cardbot WeChat stickers from the official JUMPGO account.

I am not sure if these are authorized for use outside of WeChat, so use at your own risk.

[imthewokerbaby]

Love was changing the mind of pretenders ~

My friend played all of Faith in front of me last week and I'm normal I'm so normal I like this game and the characters a normal amount :) :))

[hplonesomeart]

@scimagic Uhhh made this because I just think they’re dynamic is neat. Also completely agree with the Puzzle headcanon super fun silly and very on point. As we speak he is clinging for his dear life :))

I really enjoy seeing the illustrated storyline you have unfolding between the two and figured it would be nice to see this motorcycle sequence in motion. So tadaa here it is! In animated form! Now your obligated to make a full length written novel in-depth about their relationship /j

Sincerely though thanks for the creative inspiration and keep on being a swagger artist 👍✨

[spaghettito3]

It's always been Curly (Pre-crash Curly x Reader)

Captain Curly, the dependable captain of The Tulpar. That's who he was and will ever be.  ... Until you joined The Tulpar.

---

Or; a small look into Curly and his relationship with his name and title, with sprinklings of fluff.

ao3

It's always been Curly. Cur–ly; two syllables, a trip up and down the steps, the natural progression of things, finishing off a dance with a bow. It's Curly from the hiring manager of that fast food place when he'd made it just in time for his interview when he was 18, dressed in a suit; It's Grant from that awkward girl in middle school who decided she liked him after seeing him score a goal, then Curly once she knew him a bit more; It's Captain from his crew, and back to Curly again when they want to get on his good side. He was Curly.

He doesn't know how it all began, but eventually people started to favour his last name. It made sense, though; a name like Curly fits the bill for a dude with golden curls. He didn't mind that shift, either—two syllables always sounded better, together, than one, alone. He was Curly.

Grant is that one person sitting on the seat closest to the pick-up area of a coffee shop that you'd see for half a second when you go to get your drink. Curly is that dependable captain of The Tulpar with a crew that relies on him. Grant is that flower pot bought at a market years ago, left sitting at the back of the closet. Curly is a bundle of flowers packed perfectly in paper from that same market, just a few, more-populated stalls away. He was Curly.

So if that's the case, why do you insist on holding onto Grant so tightly?

When you introduced yourself to him and the crew last minute—courtesy of the Pony Express—you referred to him as Grant. Grant; one syllable, an unceremonious fall down the stairs, an abrupt stop, finishing off a dance with a trip. He'd been so used to everyone referring to him as Captain or Curly that a single word alone felt similar to when the wind back on Earth would sometimes suddenly pick up and make a mess of his perfectly styled hair. And despite seeing the mess you've made, you'd continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Grant this, Grant that. No mention of that blond curly-haired captain, save for the one you were choosing to call Grant at the moment.

It didn't bother him; he didn't let it bother him, not when he had a job to do and bills to pay and a freighter to man. Hell, it wasn't even about your usage of the name as well; just the reasoning behind why when everyone else called him Curly. Though it was starting to become less like a small gust of wind and more like a rocky, thorny, bordering-on-uncomfortable bump in the road, and his brain soon added that train of thought to the things he'd think about when he'd try to sleep.

He eventually cracked one sleepless night down by the kitchenette with you.

There wasn't anything special that triggered it; no mocking tone he'd sooner expect someone like Jimmy to use back at home, just a simple:

“Hey, Grant. Couldn't sleep as well?”

“Why do you call me that?”

He remembers the slight falter in your smile when he’d lost himself. Curly wouldn't start the conversation with that if he decided it was even a good idea to have that conversation at all. Your act wasn't hurting anyone; it was just a name. There was no need to confront you.

Though as much as he hated ever asking and wanted to take it back, to his dismay, you took it on the chin and chuckled. “It's your name.” Your eyes remained on his, your mug clink-clink-clinking as you stirred on it.

“Everyone calls me Curly.”

“Everyone calls you Curly,” you repeated. That's when you dropped your gaze, and he hated how his eyes immediately followed the line of sight down onto your mug, as if desperate to chase it. You continued stirring on your coffee—surely it's at a drinkable temperature by now—and he debated on getting his own cup. It'd be a waste of time to try to sleep now; no way that he wouldn't overthink and repeat this conversation ad infinitum in his mind.

Eventually, you looked up and he met your eyes at an embarrassing speed. His gaze flickered onto your lips when they quirked into a smile, as if you remembered something funny. You then, with a gentle hand, slid your mug over to him.

“What if Grant gets lonely?”

That was the stupidest thing you could've said.

After all, weren't Grant and Curly the same person? Why the need for that distinction? That's when he realised your eyes were still meeting his; unwavering, curious. You weren't looking at the curly blond hair, the Pony Express uniform, or the body he'd worked so hard to get—just his eyes.

Grant wanted to laugh—actually, he did laugh, it seemed, when a chuckle bubbled out of him.

“That makes no sense.”

He reached for the mug you offered and took a sip. Then, he lowered his cup to speak, his voice softer this time:

“...But I'm sure Grant appreciates the company.”

That was the stupidest thing he could've said. You told him as such with your own chuckle.

“I'll keep on sticking by Grant, then.”

His eyes flickered onto your lips again, and it became abundantly clear that you’d grin every time you said the name Grant; first, an ‘o’ shape with your mouth for the ‘gr’, then you'd widen the shape for ‘an’—before finally grinning to enunciate the ‘t’. Grant; one syllable, a hop down the stairs, a period in a sentence, finishing off a dance with the last step. He teared his eyes away and brought the mug to his lips again, a faint heat rising to his cheeks, but it was too late; now he wouldn't be able to stop noticing your smile every time you said his name or the way you said it.

Ever since then, every time he'd hear a “Grant!” he'd turn his head that way—no longer out of a sense of obligation, but because he wanted to. Because maybe if he turned fast enough he'd catch a glimpse of your smile mid-Grant… But then he'd probably turn his head right back, eyes wide in a panic, because oh god he's not supposed to be anticipating his crewmate’s smile like this.

He’ll think about the implications of his feelings as the captain of The Tulpar later, but for now… It's not so bad being Grant.

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Another Les Mis musical connection that's making me feral: Jean Valjean uses the same melody with which he sings to Cosette, "Believe me, / Were it within my power, / I'd fill each passing hour-- / How quiet it must be, I can see, / With only me for company"...

When he sings "You are free, / And there are no conditions. / No bargains or petitions! / There's nothing that I blame you for. / You've done your duty--nothing more" to Javert.

In my journey to map out the various leitmotifs in the show, this one really flung me for a loop because what does it meannnn?? This is the only time we hear the melody in the show, and it's applied in two very different circumstances, where the relationship Valjean has to the characters involved could not be more opposite. What connects them?? But I think I have it.

It's a reluctant release. Not of the people, but of his own desires regarding them. Let me explain.

Valjean very distinctly wants things from both Cosette and Javert, which he sings about on the rising part of the melody. With Cosette, he wants to be the center of her life: "Were it within my power, I'd fill each passing hour;" on the other hand, he desperately wants Javert to leave him alone. When he has Javert at his mercy, he absolutely does want to trade lives, which is why he sings it on the rising part: "And there are no conditions, no bargains or petitions." He does want these things--but he's letting them go.

And that's where the falling part of the melody comes in. In both situations, Valjean knows he can't have what he wants. So he gives up that desire. He accepts that Cosette wants someone else, and doesn't blame her for it ("How quiet it must be, I can see, with only me for company,"), the same way he accepts the situation between him and Javert ("There's nothing that I blame you for. You've done your duty, nothing more."). That's why immediately afterwards, he tells Javert his address, and why shortly after that, he prays that Marius be brought home to Cosette.

Cosette is his biggest security, and Javert is the biggest threat to his security. But in this little melody, he sets them free (Cosette metaphorically, and Javert literally). He acknowledges what he wants, and accepts that he can't have it, even though it hurts.

And if that ain't the most Jean Valjean thing, I don't know what is.