#i should use it more🤔
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drpeppertummy · 5 months ago
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enamored with @serialfiller1's swag oc eris rn
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[ID: a drawing of a woman standing there awkwardly, holding an empty water bottle in one hand and resting the other atop her bloated tummy.]
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napping-sapphic · 4 months ago
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Breaking news!! Tomorrow’s forecast indicates that it would be a GREAT day for us to hold hands 👉👈
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guess-i-do-art · 3 months ago
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Behold:
the Goobers
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cfffrk · 6 months ago
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WW2 AU
PART 1
(+2scetches)
One September day, B. Wooster found out about Jeeves' disappearance from Aunt Dahlia's telegram.
Early summer of 1940. Bertram Wooster was completing his studies at an aviation school. At the same time his faithful valet, Jeeves, temporarily went to the service of the already mentioned relative at Brinkley Court and became the second jewel in the staff of servants besides the highly talented cook Anatole.
Due to the straitened financial situation of Uncle Tom, who complained more and more about the increasing taxes, the dearest aunt had to take forced measures and fire a few servants. She wanted to make a small sacrifice, and it might have been enough if one day her stingy husband had not cut the already small wages of the remaining servants. Many of them had applied for dismissal after that, and they were quite understandable.
This radical decision, although to a lesser extent, also affected Jeeves. Nevertheless, he continued to be a professional. He fulfilled his basic duties and often helped her, and her old friends get out of troubles.
Within a few months of Jeeves' work, they had become friends. Bertram almost felt like a third wheel in this idyll when he came to visit and boast of his achievements. Aunt Dahlia treasured her new valet and his unrivalled intelligence, and often jokingly promised in letters to her nephew that Jeeves would be returned safe and sound.
That was why she was seriously worried when Jeeves went missing. One clear day in early September, an elderly relative had let him go to London on his own business. In addition to this, it was Jeeves' duty to check on their good old Berkeley Mansions flat from time to time and keep it clean, so he planned to finish his business by evening and stay in the city overnight. He was supposed to return early the next morning. But that never happened. Not in two days. Not in three.
That night London was bombarded.
Something seemed to snap and collapse inside Bertie when he learnt that the search for Jeeves had been fruitless. Neither his relatives nor his club could shed any light on his mysterious disappearance.
The dark thoughts from which Bertram had fled during the day caught up with him at night. He would toss and turn on the hard bed, thinking of Jeeves's fate and replaying happy memories of their past, and in the daytime, tired and broken, he would give his duty to his country.
The whole situation seemed strange and unreal to him. The only thing that was found out for sure was that no one appeared in the apartment that miraculously survived the monstrous raids that day. It was dusty.
A couple of months had passed since the tragedy that divided Bertie's life into before and after. The war continued. He was learning to adjust to his new reality.
Sometimes he managed to carve out some free time and pop into London for a bit. The city where he had lived more than a third of his life was in ruins. The familiar places where he used to meet his friends and have a good time were empty.
Your humble servant avoided going into that very flat. There were too many vivid memories of that place, which painfully and mercilessly squeezed Bertram Wooster's poor skull. Indeed, the most precious person in his life had been living at his side all that time.
But still, as the sole and responsible owner of his property, he had to overpower himself. He had to go in and make sure that everything was all right. And one such day Bertie found himself there, in their former cozy home.
He walked in and looked around the living room: a layer of dust covering almost everything, furniture wrapped in covers, and only a few of his own things that he had left or forgotten here. The piano was covered with a cloth. Unbearably quiet and lifeless. There was nobody else to keep order here, nobody else's hand to create the home comfort. Sorrowful feelings pressed upon his chest.
He looked all over the flat. Almost all of it. There was only one room left to check.
After a moment's hesitation, Bertram pulled himself together and went into Jeeves's room. He had only glimpsed it from inside before. It was modest and not as spacious as his bedroom. Wooster sat down on the perfectly made bed, looking at what little was left of his dear friend, guide, and philosopher. His eyes rested on the various books dusting the shelves and cupboards.
He recognized one of them. It was the volume of Spinoza's writings he had given Jeeves for his birthday. No doubt Jeeves had read it all. As the rest of the books in the room. Bertie remembered his politely grateful smile and how he had clearly decided that this fellow deserved a whole library of those Spinozas.
He got out of bed. The code of the Woosters did not allow him to touch other people's things (even if those things belonged to a man who might never come back into his life), but something outweighed the young master's unwavering principles that day.
He didn't even notice how he left the flat with the book in his hands.
Of course, this sort of talisman invariably occupied a place in his suitcase. Though he had endeavored to handle the book with care, it had become tattered with the passage of time. Bertram often held it in his hands, flicked through the pages, ran his eyes over the neat pencil notes of its former owner. It calmed him a little in the most difficult moments of his pilot practice. He didn't understand anything about philosophy, but he treasured this book too damn much.
When they reunited, they were about a year away from the end of the war. The house with their previous flat was in a state of emergency damaged by the recent bombing raids, so Jeeves looked for a new flat for them while his employer was still undergoing treatment.
It happened some time later after their move-in. Jeeves was doing his household chores while the young master followed him around and chattered about anything that came into his head. It would have annoyed anyone, but not Jeeves.
You see, he had been abroad for a long time. However, he was not on holiday. Against his will, he was assigned important tasks and missions which he had to fulfil if he did not want to lose his freedom, his successful career, his reputation, his family, and friends. The special promise of making one particular person's life unbearable also left him no choice.
Every day, Jeeves felt like he was sitting on a powder keg: at any moment, a surprise inspection could come through the doors of his headquarters. A highly undesirable event for a man who kept fake documents, weapons, and encrypted data transmission devices in his flat. But all possible escape routes had been carefully worked out and memorized: Jeeves was always prudent. Otherwise, he had to have time to take a special pill before he found himself tied to a chair in a small interrogation room.
Keeping his charm and politeness, he was effective in getting the right information from the right people. His knowledge of psychology and accumulated experience of working with people helped him in this.
Jeeves' missions were rarely close to failure. His life depended on it.
The slightest mistake could have been fatal to him. Of course, he had learned much about the country during his training to pass for a typical Frenchman. His French had been practically flawless even before, which only made his life easier. But still somewhere in the back of his mind was the fear that he would be exposed for the smallest inaccuracy.
Jeeves lived under a false identity with a fake life story. He changed outwardly and inwardly. His gait, the way he spoke, his body language, his facial expressions. He had complete control over his body. Especially his gaze, which could tell a lot about his thoughts. It was exhausting.
After a long time of living in this way, he began to have trouble sleeping: he slept very little and sensitively or could not fall asleep at all.
He rarely had any dreams during the restless hours when he was able to fall asleep. Sometimes he had nightmares. But they were not about him. They were about Mr Wooster. Same scenario: church, flowers, closed coffin. Then it would slowly open from the inside. And Jeeves would wake up in a cold sweat.
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On sleepless nights, he was also tormented by thoughts of his former employer. Where was he now? Was he all right? Was he even alive? How did he feel about his disappearance? Would he want to see him again...?
Jeeves felt his mind, which he relied on in the most critical situations, begin to fail.
Meeting his employer again and doing the household chores for him, he felt himself slowly getting his head in order. He was enjoying the much-anticipated company of Mr Wooster. It soothed him and made him feel at home.
Jeeves opened the closet to put the ironed clothes in it. The young master standing next to him had been lost in the chatter and missed the moment when he should have pulled him back. In the next moment Jeeves had pulled the ruined book out of the wardrobe the same way as he pulled out foreign clothes. By the title of the book, he thought at first that his master was interested in serious literature. But on closer look and leafing through the book, he realized that it was his own.
Bertie watched it silently with his eye wide open. He couldn't just get rid of it, but at the same time he was ashamed to return a book in such a terrible condition to its owner. He planned to buy the exact same one soon, but until then, this volume of essays would be safely hidden away. But here his innocent secret was revealed. Jeeves looked at him with a silent question in his eyes.
He tried to justify himself, but this particular Wooster was a bad liar. Especially when the pent-up feelings were starting to overwhelm him. Jeeves often let his employer fool him about little things, but they both knew very well that it was actually impossible to do this. A couple of precise laconic remarks and B. Wooster found himself disarmed. He took a breath of air and began to speak.
Jeeves listened patiently to his poor master with a mask of calmness pulled over his face and dared not interrupt.
He was sorry. He was deeply sorry for the pain he had caused Mr Wooster and his dear people by his forced departure. However, Jeeves spoke little and reluctantly about what he had been doing in recent years and did not tell anyone about the very reasons for his disappearance. This information could have caused a lot of trouble.
And Bertram realized it. His Jeeves could not just disappear for no reason, he was sure of it. But sometimes, in the deep sleepless night, a wild guess would cross his weary mind. What if Jeeves had run away, had simply abandoned him? Of course, Bertie had scolded himself for such thoughts in the mornings then. And today when Jeeves prepares breakfast for him, reminds him to take his medicine, and helps him to dress, that idea seems to him on the verge of sanity. But then he was quite capable of finding irrefutable evidence in all sorts of little things. At that time, he did not know what to think: the search for the injured had ended, Jeeves remained on the list of missing persons.
Bertram stood before him and could find no more words. But words were no longer needed. Jeeves looked at him with bright, penetrating eyes and the silence that settled in the room was filled with peace. Jeeves was truly touched. He felt a huge boulder fall from his soul.
It seemed now, as his employer lowered his head dejectedly and hid his wet eyes from him, they had the perfect moment to dot the «i».
It's been a long day.
Of course, this book stayed in their new flat and became a symbol of something important for them. Bertram, Jeeves' poor love, had indeed taken desperate measures then.
However, Jeeves pointed out that such measures would no longer be necessary.
For now, he would be there for him. He came back.
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alicenpai · 2 years ago
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apparently i never uploaded this one so. carole & tuesday button from 2019 !  ❤🎶🎹🎸
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twnj · 3 months ago
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Bastien looked up for a moment, catching her eye. She bit her bottom lip, and he copied her before smiling, blushing, and looking back down at his game.
Her lips curled up into a mischievous grin.
[...]
“Please vacate the room so as not to distract the other players,” he said slowly. He paused long enough to confirm she had listened, then nodded and turned to his right. “The same goes for you, Monsieur Nara.”
Nara.
Her head snapped around to where Shikamaru sat to her left. He looked up, his cheeks redder than when she’d last seen him, and from the infuriated look in his eyes, she was near-certain he was about to cause a fuss. But instead, Shikamaru rose from his chair, nodded politely and moved away from his table. He glanced down at the board Temari stood beside, frowned, and made a curious shape with his bottom lip before shuffling away with a quiet “Thanks.”'
Grandmaster on ao3 by @notquitejiraiya
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igneous-crocnroll · 6 months ago
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Earth shattering revelations were had during japanese class last week.
Looking at this, I probably shoulda used deepl to help me with the grammar, but I wanted to challenge myself x)
Here's what I meant to say - under the cut
Me: In my country's culture, for plenty of festivals we-
Me: uh, "mask"? (Attempt to say the english word, if it was written in katakana)
My teacher: You'd say "kamen" (mask)
Me: Ah, kamen? Okay, understood. So, we make masks...
Me: HUH?! LIKE KAMEN RIDER?!?!
Mr. Rider: dragon how did you not figure this out by now
My teacher: hahaha yes, that's right.
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nerime · 7 months ago
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my coworkers are being turbo transphobic and literally refuse to listen to answers to questions they fucking ask argh!!! I can just tell you!!! I can just answer you!!!!! I have answers!!! to the ridiculous questions you ask in a mocking way!!!! if you listen for one second I can just fucking explain!!!! 😡😭😡😭
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tsuchinokoroyale · 6 months ago
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What sort of leg exercises do you do to develop your amazing ass? It’s a great piece of work.
You wanna know my secret?
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I have a most speedy pupy who hits me with his leash whenever he wants 2 walkies…
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in-my-loki-feels · 7 months ago
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Out of Context Lines
Going to take @wolfpup026's open tag to participate in this one.
The Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post and share one or two sentences (or lines for artists) from your most recent unposted WIP with zero context.
“Come on, what did you expect?” Loki's grin widened as he crooked one finger, beckoning Don closer. 
I will also do an open tag, so if you see this and want to join in, feel free!
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mercurytrinemoon · 10 months ago
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Ok so THIS I CAN get behind:
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caswlw · 7 months ago
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the idea that they’re writing the season as they go so they’re seeing the reaction the audience has and that it (even in the smallest way possible) could have an impact on what happens this season (and in future seasons) is so wild to me. not saying that they’re seeing our response and saying “oh that sounds good, totally writing that in,” but it’s not impossible to say that they will see what the people want, realize the best way to generate buzz and excitement and increased viewership is to keep your fans happy, and then actually do something about it instead of killing characters/storylines just for kicks
911 has the opportunity to be that bitch even more than it already is and they shouldn’t squander it while they’re on top
#911 abc#yall remember dabb’s 10% comment bc i do!!!!#i just think they’re paying a lot of attention to promotion and audience reaction in ways that they never did before Because they want it#to continue performing as well as it is (which is to say better than it did on fox)#and because of that they can continue to make moves that benefit them and not hurt them ykwim#i want to be clear that this isn’t me saying buddie should go canon or even anything close to buddie specifically#but more that angering fans by just Deciding to do things or even worse KNOWING it’ll piss ppl off and doing it anyway is the wrong way to#make people want to keep watching your show#like if everyone is begging for more ravi (which we are) and they go okay! here’s more ravi i know you guys love him! that would be great#instead of slowly writing him off (god forbid even worse) just bc they wanted to or bc they know we love him#and they’re in the PRIME position to take advantage of the extra eyes on the show and making moves to make this season (ABC’s First with us)#and have it go down as not only one of 911’s best seasons (by ratings and views and fan opinion) but also a damn good season of television#is this just a pitch for ravi main s8. idk at some point it might’ve turned into one#i just think it’s cool how they’re doing the work they have this season with interacting with fans/the GA and doing promotion#it’s so well done it makes my marketing major heart squeeze a little#anyway. gay eddie 🤔#notes from the prime minister
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lovinggreeniehours · 6 months ago
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um. concept art <3
king of the golden country and king of the dungeons surrounding it let's fucking go <3
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I'm reading a fic with russian in it written in latin alphabet and I'm taking a great joy in understanding it without translating
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orcelito · 16 days ago
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Don't know whether it's a product of my upbringing or just part of who I am, but I really do tend to shrug off things that seem to send others into massive guilt spirals. Like, what's the point? Either you meant to do it or you didn't. If you meant to do it but regret it now, make what amends you can & resolve to do better, then move on. If you didn't mean to, be honest about it, apologize if need be, & try to do better. Then move on.
Beating yourself up truly serves no purpose. What are we, catholic? If there is a god, I truly don't think they'd care, anyways
#speculation nation#religion might have some part in it. i was taught a flavor of christianity that portrayed god as loving above all else.#portrayed god as *forgiving*. thats the point of jesus dying on the cross? forgiving your sins?#i was taught that so long as you tried to do good and believed in god then you would go to heaven.#none of that internalized guilt shit. it really serves no purpose.#this could potentially stem from prior abuse too. in which case. well. i hope people can break out of those patterns of thought. sincerely.#i have a history with abuse but idk ive run under a 'fuck those people' mentality. why should i run by the way they treated me?? genuinely.#no one person is singularly horrible and irredeemable. no not even you.#youre your harshest critic. you have front row seats to all ur nasty thoughts. things that most people dont say out loud.#everyone has nasty thoughts though. some more than others. but what matters is what you *do*. not what you think.#no one is gonna know any mean or awful thoughts you have if you dont tell them. thought crimes arent real. what matters is what you *do*.#and even for the things you do wrong. everyone makes mistakes. just work to do better next time.#genuinely makes me so sad to see polls asking about ppl's self perceptions & seeing majority of ppl so down on themselves.#like come on. i used to think i was an awful person bc i knew all the mean and kind of manipulative things id think.#but eventually i recognized that no one is perfect and everyone has ugly thoughts. just do your best to do good & learn from your mistakes.#if you do that much then youre a well-meaning human being. not perfect but no one is. that should be enough.#maybe if i exhibit enough of my 'idgaf' attitude about this kind of thing i can influence some other ppl with it as well. 🤔🤔 hmmm
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windor-truffle · 17 days ago
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ok I know it wouldn't make much sense in canon but it'd be hilarious if Asbel took Cheria's last name after they get married. "Oh I'm supposed to be Asbel Lhant, the Lord of Lhant? WRONG. Asbel Barnes. I respect my wife more than my job 😂"
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