#i switched from notes to photo editor

[windstriker427]

doodled magolor while waiting for the bus today :D

[arabellaininterstellarboots]

The Winslow Effect

pt.2

Chapter 02: The buzz begins

Charlotte Winslow leaned back in her office chair, scrolling through her notes for her next interviews. Since she’d switched to covering football, she’d been swamped with messages, press requests, and fan theories that she found both amusing and, at times, a little exhausting and over the top.

It seemed that everyone wanted to know which player she’d interview first, and the fan favorite was already becoming clear: Chelsea’s Mason Mount.

She’d caught glimpses of him in photos and videos during her research—a midfielder with a sharp grin, quick on his feet, and with a bit of charm that seemed to radiate through the screen.

But she’d been in journalism long enough to know better than to be swayed by anyone’s public persona. Still, even she couldn’t deny there was something intriguing about him.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. A message from her editor:

Lisa 😊: Just a heads-up—people are already talking about a possible Mount-Winslow interview. Keep it on your radar girly!😘

Charlie chuckled, tossing her phone onto her desk. “They really are impatient, aren’t they?” she muttered to herself. She liked the idea of keeping things mysterious. No need to rush into anything.

Meanwhile, across town, Mason Mount was getting his fair share of teasing from his Chelsea teammates. During training, Ben Chilwell nudged him with a grin as they took a break by the sidelines.

“So, Mounty,” Ben began, barely able to hide his smirk, “when’s your big date with Charlie Winslow?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “It’s not a date. And it’s not even happening yet.”

“Oh, yet? So you’re saying you’re open to it?” Ben shot back, and a few other teammates nearby chuckled, leaning in to join the fun.

Reece James joined in, grinning. “She’s way out of your league, mate. From what I’ve seen, she’s got half the Premier League hanging on her very feet.”

Mason shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. “Maybe, but she’s still just a journalist. No need to get all worked up about it.”

“Oh, just a journalist, huh?” Conor Gallagher chimed in, laughing. “That’s why you’re the first one to check your phone every time she posts?”

“I don’t even follow her,” Mason replied, trying to sound nonchalant. In truth, he’d considered it—just to satisfy his own curiosity, of course—but he’d decided against it. He wasn’t about to give his teammates any more ammunition for their teasing.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, mate. Just wait till you have to sit across from her, and we’ll see how cool you stay then. From what I’ve heard, she’s sharp. She’ll probably have you confessing all your secrets before you even realize what’s happening.”

Mason smirked, crossing his arms. “You lot think you’re so funny. You know, maybe I’ll be the one getting her to open up.”

That earned him a round of laughs. “Keep dreaming, Mounty,” Reece said, patting him on the shoulder. “I don’t think she’s the type to fall for your cheesy lines.”

“Or your terrible haircut,” Conor added with a grin, dodging the playful shove Mason sent his way.

Later that evening, Mason was back at home, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. He noticed a post of Charlie’s on his explore page—a clip of her interviewing another Premier League player, Jamie Vardy from Leicester, her smile poised and her eyes sharp, as if she could see right through the forwarder she was talking to.

He could practically feel her confidence and quick wit through the screen. It didn’t surprise him that everyone was talking about her.

Meanwhile, Charlie sat in her apartment, her own thoughts drifting toward the buzz that had built up around a possible interview with Mason. She’d heard enough from her editor and her social media notifications to know that people were eagerly waiting for her to meet the Chelsea star. Fans were tagging her, speculating about “the chemistry” they might have. She couldn’t help but smile at how invested people were in a story that hadn’t even started.

Her phone lit up with a new follower notification—Ben Chilwell. She chuckled, not missing the fact that he was one of Mason’s closest friends. Interesting, she thought, wondering if the Chelsea squad was just as eager to see what she’d be like in person. She didn’t follow him back, but the notification was enough to remind her that she had the football world’s attention.

Mason’s name popped up in her mind again, and her fingers hovered over the button to follow him. But after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled her hand back. Letting them wonder a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

Across town, Mason finally caved and clicked on her profile, scrolling through a few of her recent posts. He noticed that a lot of people he follows follow Charlie. There was something undeniably intriguing about her. Maybe it was the way she balanced charm with a bit of mystery. He could see why the press and fans were so captivated, and despite himself, he was starting to feel the same.

Their paths hadn’t crossed yet, but with the tension building around them, both knew it was only a matter of time.

[berniesrevolution]

Editor’s Note: This article, republished from the Daily Yonder, is part of a series of photo essays created for the American Creed ​“Citizen Power” multi-platform documentary initiative exploring American idealism and community leadership from a range of young adult perspectives.

Jonathan Blair lives, works, and studies at Alice Lloyd College, in Eastern Kentucky. He coordinates a work-study crew of about 60 people, mostly first-generation college students from rural Appalachia. Blair and two of his crew members — Jacob Frazier and Carlos Villanueva — document their connection to blue-collar work in and around the Appalachian coal industry, and they reflect on their hopes for the region.

Explore more of Jonathan Blair’s story here.

My grandfathers on both sides were coal miners. My father is a mechanic for one of the railroads that transport coal. Basically, ever since our family has been in these hills, the coal business has put food on our table, and that’s the case for most families in our region. Even if it’s not why they came here, it kind of became what they did, because that was what paid, and you’re going to do whatever it takes.

Survival is a big aspect of Appalachian culture. For a long time, coal meant survival, but there was never a sense of stability because the coal business is like a light switch: It’s either ​“on” or ​“off.” And when that switch was off, a lot of people, like my grandpa, would find manufacturing jobs elsewhere, in Ohio and other places. And whenever the coal business picked back up, they would come back, because this is home. Today, you look around and you can see the mountaintops have been removed to extract the coal from them, and much of the coal that was deep in the ground is gone. The coal business is a phantom, a shadow of what it used to be. We can’t rely on it coming back to what it once was.

(My stepdad Charles Hampton was in the Marines, but he got injured. He used to work for a drilling company but now he’s retired. He also used to be a truck driver but he got injured there too.)

For Appalachians, other than faith in God and the love of our families, coal has been what we have always leaned on. Now we are having to take a step back and look away in order to move on to the future. Like diamonds, coal takes millions of years to form, so there won’t be much forming in our lifetimes. In fact, it could be exhausted by the end of our lifetimes.

I know very few people my age who go into the industry. The generations before us have warned that no matter how good the money is right now, no matter how sweet of a deal they’ll cut you to get you to work, it’s not gonna last. It can’t last. Right now, the price of coal is up but we’ve seen what happens when the price goes down and industry packs up and leaves.

There is no plan B in places like this. A major concern for my generation is finding that plan B right here in the only place we’ve ever known, because these mountains are home. And it truly is beautiful.

(My grandfather and his co-worker, underground about two miles.)

(The culture in Appalachia is rich in faith. Ever since I can remember, I was in the House of God listening to my grandfather preach. I asked him to turn to any passage of scripture, and he turned to Luke 15:11 (the story of the Prodigal son).)

(Coal Miners go to work never knowing what the day will hold. One day my grandfather sacrificed his arm while cleaning a belt head. “I would go back in a heartbeat,” he said. Even though the work took something from him, his heart still has a passion for the industry.)

The Appalachian culture has deep roots because, much like the rest of America, this is a land of immigrants who made this their home. People of many backgrounds, colors, and creeds were brought together here to build the railroads and pull the coal out of the ground. Over time, bonds formed through our shared labor and sacrifice.

There’s a saying around these parts that goes, ​“All blood isn’t family and all family isn’t blood.” Coal workers often left their loved ones behind for the opportunities in this region, and although those opportunities have dwindled, many of them formed new families and remain committed to these mountains. That’s how we ended up with this rich culture.

(Although the family has been spread across the region because of work and other aspects of life, when we are able to gather the sense of joy never seems to falter. As I have grown older, I have witnessed these bonds grow, even as the distance between us becomes greater. It becomes more bittersweet each time.)

While Appalachians have always wanted to maintain a life and community here, the same can’t be said for the industry we’ve welcomed into this region. You can drive through these mountains and find ghost towns like after the gold rush, abandoned places that were once home to so many people.

A sense of distrust exists between the Appalachian people and outsiders — whether that’s big business or the government. This distrust is deeply rooted and generational because New England businessmen came into the area and ripped a great deal of the coal out of our mountains. When the prices were low enough for them not to bother anymore, they went back home. When it was time for war, the federal government would come into our region and recruit young men, leaving behind suspicion and fear of exploitation among locals. It’s difficult to erase those scars of generational distrust. Many Appalachians fear that solutions presented by new industries or the government will only repeat the exploitation of the past. When you can see the end of the coal industry, it’s frightening. But there are solutions. Fear has to be countered with knowledge and power.

(Continue Reading)

[hazbinhappy]

Hey! I saw your match-ups were open and would like to request one if that's okay! I'm a dude and on the shorter side (5'4), I am pan with no gender preferences but I do prefer people who are more on the confident side. My love languages are physical touch and acts of service.

I am an ambivert, whether I'm more extroverted or introverted can change very quickly. I am typically laid back and easygoing and don't get annoyed easily. My favorite colours are purple and green.

I usually switch between wearing punk/emo style clothes (studded belts, band t-shirts, chains, leather jackets) paired with eyeliner or casual style clothes (Hoodies, shorts, beanies). My hair is a dark brown with a white streak due to lack of melanin and my eyes are a dark brown.

My hobbies are hiking, climbing, photography, video games, video/photo editing, needle felting and juggling. I like animals, hights, music and cooking. I don't like loud noises and spiders.

My appearance would likely have some owl-like features because of my love of heights and my messed up sleep schedule. Other than that my appearance would be mostly the same as it is now.

I would prefer not to be matched with sir pentious or charlie please.

Your Matchup is....

Velvette!

She is like the definition of confidence (more like too much because look at miss ma���am so I guess cocky, but she isn't afraid and she knows what to do)

I think she’d find your hair and clothes style really interesting.

Probably would try and mix your styles together so you two can match or she would match colors only

Idk I feel like matching is a small way to show that you are tied to a person

Did I read video & photo editing? Of course I did, I've been staring at this for a hot minute!

Oh boy do I have a job for you buddy!

Yes you already know it, you are an editor for miss ma’am Velvette here

Is it fun staring at screens all day and not getting to go outside and do your more hands-on activities? Yes, but oh my goodness your cute boss is micromanaging at every second (as if she knows what you’re doing)

Okay, but for realsies, you do speak about how you need some breathing room to be able to concentrate and she does take note of that, she also hires another editor JUST ONE so your workload is a bit lighter; you know are solely for Velvette’s work and the other unlucky editor get to work for moth man

As you two got closer she started to make more clothes based on your fashion and soon made it a rule for all of her employees to only wear her clothes (Velv come on just admit your feelings and ask for him to wear your clothes!)

Once you two do get together she will automatically take your clothes without shame, but makes it work

Shoot she might even dress like you just to make the fit work

If you get her on a hike she is whining and complaining, but it gave her inspiration to expand her work into sporty/athleisure wear as well

She does take interest in your hobbies during her relaxation time and is willing to try your food, but she will be honest about her opinions (this princess)

“Ugh! You’re taking forever!” Velvette pouted from her chair beside you with her arms crossed,

“Apologies, little miss princess. Maybe don’t give me so many photos next time.” You rolled your eyes as you continued editing the slew of photos she gave you from today's shoot.

After several more minutes of silence (in reality it was thirty seconds), she just got up and pulled your chair away from the desk.

“Don’t fight! You have been working all night, I want to sleep with you. I’m for once going to bed on time and so will you! Dumb and Dumber are out for the night so if we’re fast we can get to sleep with silence.”

A/N: You sound like a sick person ngl i’m a bit jealous of your hobbies and style /pos owls are such a good choice

[mawofthemagnetar]

A sneak peek of the planned Survivorguy Fic

Featuring weird formatting, script-style (for interlude chapters, don't worry, it won't be the whole thing) and lots of neato shit.

Enjoy this while I go reread the SAS survival guide.

Spoilers and unedited rough writing under the cut!

XBCRAFTED VOICEOVER:

“Hello. My name is xBcrafted, otherwise known as Survivorguy. I’m an explorer, an adventurer, and a former soldier. I’ve climbed K2 and crossed Antarctica, and I’ve made it my life’s goal to survive in the harshest environments on earth, to show you what it takes to make it out alive. I have no camera crew. I have no backup. Everything you see is filmed by myself. For the next ten days, I will be stranded in the wilderness. Follow with me, and find out what it takes to be…Survivorguy!”

[The screen blurs to show a montage of xB climbing cliffs and wading across waterfalls, and stuffing a cricket into his mouth. The theme tune plays over a modified title card. It reads: SURVIVORGUY: MEN VS NATURE SPECIAL!]

XBCRAFTED VOICEOVER:

“Tonight on Survivorguy, we’re answering a question many viewers have asked before. We get letters and emails and tweets, and we see you. You’ve seen me surviving alone in the wilderness, and you want to know: what about others? What if you have to take care of other people? Well, tonight, we’re going to find out!”

[The camera cuts to an overhead shot, looking down at three men with their arms folded in an empty room. xB is in the middle, in his usual clothes. Beside him, his brother Hypno, wearing a bandanna and his usual black getup. Keralis stands to the left, wearing his pilot’s uniform.]

XBCRAFTED VOICEOVER:

“Tonight, I’ll be trying to survive in the brutal and unforgiving Canadian wilderness, with two guys who barely have any survival experience at all.”

[The screen cuts to a shot of Keralis at the controls of a plane, directing it to taxi; it cuts to another shot of a completely different airplane, rolling down the taxiway.]

[NOTE FROM KERALIS: THAT IS AN AIRBUS A320 I WAS FLYING A 767 WHO DID THIS????]

XBCRAFTED VOICEOVER:

“This is my partner Keralis, who you might know from the heroic rescue of flight 1515. He’s an accomplished pilot who thinks the best way to start a fire is to pull the switch beside the fireplace. Ex-military, like myself, Keralis had some basic survival training in flight school…several decades ago. Apart from one or two camping trips and one questionable landing, he’s greener than your lawn.”

[The screen cuts to show Hypno at a computer, fiddling around with some code and opening a photo editor to tweak some colours. He glances at the camera, and blinks all three of his eyes, including the one on his cheek, before turning back to his work.]

XBCRAFTED VOICEOVER:

“And this is my brother Hypno. Hypno lives in Fort Lauderdale and is a skilled graphic and website designer. I think we went camping once when we were kids. Other than that, Hypno thinks that ‘roughing it’ is when the hotel wifi is patchy, and he absolutely hates the cold. Seeing as we’re going to the Yukon, this should be…interesting.”

[the-writing-mobster]

| The Most Dangerous Game | Chapter 6 Excerpt | 💙 🔪 💔 |

.

.

.

Tack, tack, tack, tack… 

Frisk sucked in a weary breath and reached for her mug. The porcelain was cold against her chapped lips, the murky coffee inside disgustingly lukewarm on her tongue, but she swallowed it anyway. Her eyes burned. The words on her screen blurred beneath her and it took everything in her to stifle the yawn threatening to come over her. 

Crickets chirping. The soft sigh of the HVAC breathing cool air through the grates in the floor. The hum of her computer screen. Lines of dotted color swimming in and out. 

Tack, tack, tack, tack, tack… 

Unfortunately, one could believe that her loneliness and her noble effort to see the best in people, is what led her to her brutal end. ｜

She rubbed her eyes, the sounds of the night buzzing in her aching head. A dark kaleidoscope of color swarmed the back of her eyelids and sent her briefly to another world connected only by scarlet string and madness. 

Frisk sucked in a long breath she refused to admit was a yawn, the incessant noise going silent as her breathing roared in her ears. 

A low moan escaped her as she came too and was greeted with true silence. She mused that the AC must have switched off for a moment. That was fine, she told herself. It’d been getting pretty cold. Even now, she could feel the prickles of goosebumps creeping on her arms and down the back of her neck. 

The words on her computer screen swam across from her. I need to step away. Look over my notes, the thought sent her careening to her feet. 

Each step she took sent pins and needles through her and she seethed through her teeth. How long had she been sitting there? She counted the hours to herself. She’d been writing ever since she’d gotten home from her meeting with the editor in chief so that meant… six hours straight? Was that right? That couldn’t be right. Ibrahim would’ve stopped her… unless he’d also been writing and in that case… 

Frisk smirked at the realization that they must have both been in a flow state. Who were either of them to wreck each other’s process?

“I’m almost done,” she said aloud as if trying to ward off the uncanny silence of the witching hour and give herself some company. 

 

The only other company she had were the pictures of Sarah’s carcass staring at her from her cork board. The acknowledgment of those dead, brown eyes sent Frisk searching the floor for lent out of some desperate attempt at avoiding them, if only briefly.

When the floor truly had nothing of substance to offer her, she was dragged by the chin back to that board. How dare she look away. Look upon me and see how I’ve suffered, whispered her own, morbid guilt. 

“Look at me!” 

She blinked hard at the invasive memory of her own small voice. The photos were blurry in the dark, unfocused in the ghoulish blue glare of her distant computer. She blinked again as if that would fix them. 

It seemed to work, though, and Sarah gazed back at her when she opened her eyes. Only… her eyes were larger. Lashes thicker… skin shades darker if not a tad ashy from the cool embrace of death. Lips plumper. Bruised.   

Familiar. 

Frisk furrowed her brow and sucked in a breath of stale air. Her feet swayed towards the board, pins and needles biting up her leg. She plucked the photo off the wall, a distant clack of the thumb tack falling to the floor. 

Pale, dead skin. Small, glazed eyes, angular, hollow cheeks. Nothing about the photo or about Sarah had changed. I need to call it a night. 

The crickets certainly had.

.

.

.

Chapter Theme:

Read the full chapter here!

Also, next chapter drops tomorrow!

[corrodedbisexual]

Okay. I've finally figured out how to add a specific gif I want to a post using tumblr's god-awful gif search system. You know that feeling when you've used every possible combination of keywords from the original post and the search results STILL keep showing you irrelevant stuff instead of what you wanted? Then this is a tutorial for you. Please reblog to spread the word, this might at least partially reduce the amount of gif reposting without credit on this site.

First, you need the link to the original gifset post. I'm using this gifset of mine for this tutorial. Important: this needs to be a tumblr.com, not at.tumblr.com link which tumblr will desperately try to give you with its native UI (by clicking the … at top right corner and using "copy link"). DON'T do that. To get a proper link on desktop, just right click on the OP's username and copy that link address. On mobile, hold on any of the images in the post and select "Share post". ("Share photo" direct links to gifs don't work. I've tried.)

Now feed that link into the gif search. Unfortunately, this will only give you the first gif of the gifset, because tumblr couldn't do even DIRECT SEARCH BY LINK right jfc. If you wanted that first gif, congratulations, this is it, enjoy. Otherwise, you're gonna need desktop for the rest of the steps.

Put that found gif into your post for the time being. Now go to the gifset post and copy image address of the gif you actually wanted. Let's say I want the 4th one. Now that's done, go to your own post's settings and change text editor to HTML.

If you've never worked with HTML, this might look intimidating, but you don't need to get into details. Just find the link within the quotation marks in the img src="" tag and paste the one you've copied instead of the original.

Finally, switch back to Rich text editor.

Voila. You have the gif you wanted, with a proper credit to its owner and the link to the gifset.

Note: if this gif has different dimensions from the 1st gif in the set, it might look all screwed up in the post preview, but when you save your post, tumblr will automatically adjust it to the right dimensions. Thank god for that, at least.

Gotta love this super convenient and very functional hellsite.

[freakingoutthesquares]

Russell's passport - 1979/80

The Bath Bankers

PulpWiki: Extracted by Stephen Bray from an interview with their bass guitarist, Paul.

I met Russell on the [Business Management] course at Bath Uni in 1979, and we became friends because of that. The course started in October and was mostly filled with kids from well to do families, and Russell and I were in the minority of kids from ordinary working class backgrounds.

It was in the days where suddenly it was OK to join a band even if you couldn't really play. I got a bass guitar and played some rudimentary riffs, Russell was on guitar, and we had a keyboardist called Steve and a singer whose name I can't recall. No drummer. We knew Steve and the singer socially. The band was formed from scratch, driven by Russell, (of course) and i think the band started after Xmas. Russell came up with the name.

We didn't do any covers. It would mostly have been thrashy punk stuff, but I also recall a spooky discordant repetitive melodic song about a fairground and some scary people who worked there! That was the only decent song we did really which I recall got some good feedback from the reviewer at the arts barn. He wrote for some sort of Uni fanzine I think. I looked up [Pulp's] 'Fairground' on Youtube and the skeleton of the song is in there! Amazing!

We did a total of two gigs. One was at the "Arts Barn" at the Uni and one as part of a big music day which culminated with a performance by The Vapours. So in a way I can vaguely claim to have "supported" The Vapours, though they started at 10 p.m. and we were on at 10 a.m. [Editor's note: In April/June 1980, The Vapors were on a UK tour and played at Bath University on 21st June which was presumably this gig]. A local band called Alarm Clox who had a 7" single out were also on that bill.

We didn't do any recordings - recording something back then was a bit different. I do recall a photo of the Vapours gig but looked in my old shoe boxes of photos and couldn't find it.

As a sideline to the band, Russell ran a fanzine called "The Bath Banker" back then and one edition included an early review of a Pulp gig in Sheffield whilst he was back home in the summer holidays (of 1980). [Other than that, Russell didn't mention Pulp. I wasn't at the gig that they played at Bath Uni].

We were on a sandwich course, so at the end of year one we went off to a work placement for six months. In the meantime Steve switched Universities and the singer disappeared from Uni and we never got going again. After we disbanded, I wasn't such close friends with Russell as before and I was pretty useless musically. It was me who lost interest and sold my bass and amp for cash to buy a hifi system.

I did go up to Sheffield in 1982 [actually 28/2/1981!] to stay over at his dad's house and go to see The Fall and Cabaret Voltaire at the Polytechnic. Russell must have liked The Fall, but I think he was more interested in Cabaret Voltaire

Russell was strange and very different and not really dictatorial at all. He arrived at Uni in 1979 with his live in girlfriend, so the Uni wouldn't help out with accomodation. His Hitler moustache and stary eyes made him stand out. He had a left field style of thought process. Generally unconventional when lined up with the Bob Wigley anally retentive types on the course. Also a ironic / wicked sense of humour. Of course he shared my own "underground" music tastes. He was interesting and wasn't condescending I liked him.

A while back I was looking up ex course members who got famous and wiki'd Russell. [The wiki stated that] he got a first class honours degree. He was [actually] the least interested student and got a 3rd. I never knew why he applied for the course to be honest. It was full of posh people who wanted to go on and run big companies. A couple succeeded (Justin King - Sainsbury's and Bob Wigley - Unilever)

--------------------------------------

[Wikipedia now says Russell got a 2:1]

[songder-bot]

hi there! I'm relatively new(ish) to tumblr and was looking to make my own "bot" via a long queue, and was wondering if you could give me any tips? I'm not super familiar with the queue system, so any advice you can give me would be good! Thank you!

hello, anon!! welcome to tumblr!

(interloper)

it's an honor to be your tutorial npc :D i will do my best to walk you through the "bot"-making process/queue system!

first of all: this is how many posts are currently in this blog's queue.

[ID: Screenshot showing "Queue: 924". End ID.]

this is a kind of insane amount. i believe i started this bot with....700 posts in the queue? and then just kinda kept adding on more? a lot will depend on how often you want your bot to post. at the current number of posts in my queue and the current schedule of 4 posts a day, it could run for 231 more days without running out of quotes! if i bumped it down to twice a day, it could run for over a year!

what i'd probably recommend doing is adding posts in batches of, like, 20 at a time, and keeping the post amount low until you get up to a number where you feel okay just letting it run for a while without adding anything new. then just put new stuff in whenever you want!

but how do you do the "adding stuff in" part? great question! this is the part where we segway into the mechanics of the queue! this is also the part where i put a readmore because hoo BOY this got long. i am prone to overexplaining lmao

tl;dr: find the queue, make the posts, set times for posting and amount of posts per day, use mass tag editor to do tags, and shuffle queue!

the queue is one of tumblr's most special functions, imo. it will automatically put out a certain amount of posts every day between certain hours-- basically like scheduling tweets, except that the site schedules them for you! some people on tumblr actually queue basically every post they see rather than reblog it-- i call them "queuetuals" :P

Step 1: find the queue

so! first you go to your blog controls, where you can view posts and follower counts from, and then look down. under "drafts" is a section called "queue". hit that, it'll take you here.

[ID: The Tumblr "queue" page. Up at the top is a text box that reads "The queue lets you stagger posts over a period of hours or days. It's an easy way to keep your blog active and consistent. Automatically publish a queued post (dropbox with 4 selected) times a day between (dropbox with 12 am selected) and (dropbox with 12 am selected) Timezone: US/Eastern (change) Note: This timezone only affects the queue schedule, as well as timestamps on custom themes. The publish times on posts below are displayed in your local timezone." It then shows a Shuffle Queue button and the icon of this blog next to the icons and text for making text, photo, quote, link, chat audio, and video posts. End ID.]

FUN FACT: hitting the text (or whatever kind of post it is you want to make) button from here will automatically set the button that usually says "post now" to "add to queue" instead. i found this out like halfway into making all these posts and it was so helpful to not have to make the switch manually every time. i now pass this knowledge on to you, my protege. use it in good faith. okay where were we

Step 2: make the posts

right. okay . so you hit button you make post you hit other button (make sure it does say "add to queue") and it will automatically be put in your queue!

[ID: A drafted post from songder-bot reading "i'd like to take you through a wasteland i like to call my home!", with no tags and the post button set to "add to queue". End ID.]

now just do that like 100 more times and you're set :) (highly recommend, if you're going to be making a text bot like this, writing all the stuff you want to put in down in a text file so you can just copypaste over. i write new lyrics like the above in manually, but i was copypasting for my first couple big chunks)

you can also see up there the places to adjust when and how often your "bot" posts! i have it set to between 12 and 12 so it just posts day-round, but if you want to set it to only post while you're awake or only while you're asleep, that's cool (i did do that for a bit)

from this screen down you'll be able to see what's coming up next in the queue and at what times it'll post!

Step 3: tags and shuffling!

while i was insane enough to manually input over 700 posts in a few days, i was not insane enough to tag them all individually. for that, i used the Mass Post Editor!

found at the very bottom of the list that posts, followers, queue, etc. is on is a little item called Mass Post Editor. this is one of tumblr's other most helpful functions and i truly cannot recommend it enough.

so once i've gotten all the lyrics from a song that i want to get in there, i go in to MPE. up at the top it says "published, draft, queued". go to queued, i select all the quotes from the song i just put in:

[ID: A screenshot of the Mass Post Editor with several posts selected. End ID.]

i go up top, i select "add tags", and i add the tags i want for those posts! boom! mass tagging: SOLVED.

i will add here that the reason my tags are stuff like "lyric - green day" rather than just "green day" is because i don't want these posts to go directly into the main tag. especially if the bot posts often, it'd be pretty spammy and kind of annoying for people trying to look at posts about green day to have to keep seeing random green day lyrics instead. tag etiquette is important!

and the last tip i will give (i promise) is this: remember that screenshot from earlier and the shuffle queue button? whenever you add in new posts to your bot, especially if they're all from the same song or book or something, make sure to hit the shuffle queue! queueing something automatically puts it at the end of the queue, and shuffling ensures that your new posts are equally distributed and can come up whenever!

hope this was helpful!!! i love explaining stuff but also get very very wordy at times, so if you need a tl;dr version or further explanation of something let me know! oh-- and if you're gonna do quotes, lyrics, art, or anything at all, always credit the original creators!

[imnotgoinganywhereok]

I have to work for one more week, and then we're entering this sweet sweet time of the winter break!! I cannot wait to rest and focus all my energy on my hobbies. On another note, I've just noticed that after switching to the new editor all my post about Serafin save as text post - as opposed to photo posts like before. But when I look at them through my archive, they're only found under the picture category. They also look worse when seen from my actual blog. So weird...

Welcome to the second part of the teaser from this post. Now you can properly see the size of the house's expansion and just how busy it is!! Not to mention that Serafin bought a few magic beans (for a collection, of course) and used them - I've never done this before so it was quite the surprise!! It's almost as high as the tip of the roof. The couple had to get rid of their banana trees to fit this monster in their garden!! I think it looks fantastic, especially with the beautiful glow at night. It also makes a pretty view from the new part of the house.

I don't think I've mentioned it before but this new expansion is mainly for the children. The downstairs is the same size as the original and contains a small bathroom (with a tub!!), even smaller kitchen-dining space (with an ice-cream machine). The upstairs is a still-WIP children's room that will keep evolving as long as the children'll keep growing up. I think it turned out adorable and you'll see it in the future too. And - obviously - that means Mantella is pregnant!! Aren't you excited for (possibly) alien babies? I know I am!! 👽🛸

And that's how Serafin and Mantella's life is going as of now. Their hard work is certainly paying off and their future is looking very bright. Serafin's dream of peace and quiet is fulfilled and he's got his own children on the way. To see him in a better place after a rather unhappy childhood... I'm so proud!! Mantella really was a godsent. Let's hope their children appreciate their efforts in the future - I cannot wait to see them already!! Thank you for reading, and see you next time. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

PS. The Owl carving an owl in a pumpkin will always be cute. 🦉🎃

[chintanghate]

Testing Apps

Today was a bank holiday in the UK and I wasn’t feeling like getting out of bed, so tested out some apps while lying in bed. Tested out 2 apps today.

 Apple News

I bought a new macbook recently since my last one from 2014 wasn’t able to run Xcode properly enough for me to develop updates for Exporter, or make 3D models in blender. And with that purchase I received a 3-month free subscription to Apple News+. Apple news+ has a wide variety of magazines and journals that are free to read under the subscription. I tried reading some articles from Nat Geo, T3, Mac|Life, Better Homes & Gardens, & Scientific American. Scientific American and B H & G were the new one, the other 3 I have read them previously in form of physical magazines. My dad got me some issues of Nat Geo when I was in high school. T3, my friend, Ravi’s dad had a subscription to it, and he always used to get 2 copies somehow, and since he knew that I used to enjoy reading about the latest gadgets & gizmos, I used to get the other copy of it :). I was introduced to Mac|Life by one of it’s article writers, who had featured Falcon, a note-taking app I used to develop before Google, in one of his articles. I also learned today that a swipe from bottom-left corner of the iPad inwards takes a screenshot. I have been taking an active interest in Gardening since I moved to London might pick up some tips and tricks from B H & G. Planning to read more on Apple News in the free-period, if it proves to be useful might add it to my family subscription plan.

 MarsEdit

I have been meaning to write more this year. I have already updated my regular blog this weekend where I publish my monthly/yearly summaries. Since I run it using a local ghost instance and uploading the static content to GitHub, it is harder to update it regularly. I came across a YouTube video where someone was reviewing MarsEdit when I was researching for local-first blogging apps for macOS, and thought of giving it a try. I used tumblr 8 years ago for a month, and my tumblr blog had a single post there, so decided to write this post in MarsEdit and post it to Tumblr. Never used wordpress before, so it was an easy choice.

Faced couple of issues while onboarding my blog and writing this post. While onboarding my blog, since I used gmail OAuth to sign-in in Tumblr and MarsEdit just asks for email/password I searched for a way to use that with MarsEdit, couldn’t find anything on their website or anywhere else, so had to go through the `forgot password` flow on Tumblr, create an actual password and successfully onboard my blog on MarsEdit The second issue I faced was with the editor, sometimes after switching formatting on words, the cursor seems to be misplaced. 

And third one, inserting images shouldn’t be this hard, I keep trying to add image by dragging and dropping it on a new line in the RTF editor and it keeps sending the image to top of the post, and changing blog kind from `post` to `photo`. Even in preview the image is added to the beginning of the post. Seems unintuitive. 

I was able to add these images in the correct place through Tumblr’s editor. While publishing the blog to Tumblr the first time, the app threw an error and on the second try it successfully uploaded the post. But on Tumblr, I had two copies of the post in the drafts section.

Been a productive day. Read some interesting stuff, and updated my Tumblr blog after 8 years.

[miyamiwu]

An Honest Guide to Tumblr for Twitter Refugees (Part 2)

Part 0: What the heck is Tumblr and is it right for me?

Part 1: Configuring settings + customizing your Tumblr

Covered in Part 2:

Posting basics (introducing the editor, different post types)

Best practices (stating trigger warnings, adding image IDs, indicating sources, etc)

Post controls (who can reblog and reply to your posts)

Note: Like Part 1, I suggest you follow this guide while on desktop Tumblr. This post also contains lots of images without ID. Such images though are basically just screenshots of what's already described in the post body.

Posting Basics

I was gonna talk about curating your dashboard first, but considering how Tumblr veterans would think you’re a bot and just block you if they see your blog is empty, I think it’s best if we cover posting first.

Tumblr Editor

Before everything else, let’s get to know the editor.

On your desktop dashboard, you get to pick from different post types: Text, Photo, Quote, Link, Chat, Audio, and Video.

It should be pretty self-explanatory what they do, but you know what? THESE DON’T MATTER.

I talked about this briefly in Part 1, so lemme just copy-paste it here:

Although Tumblr is still advocating its different posts types (text, image, audio, video, etc.), they’ve actually been rolling out changes to their editor where only a single post type is used (text) and you just add media to it. This is called NPF (Neue Post Format). On desktop, you can turn off the beta editor and thereby turn off NPF. However, on mobile web and on the app, posts can only be made in NPF.

To put it simply: There is no difference at all between the different post types. The only difference is that when you click on a post type (for example, photo), the first block* on your post will be related to that post type (e.g. a photo block).

* If you’ve used WordPress before, then this should be familiar. But if not, then here’s a quick explanation: A block is basically a component used to create a post (text block for text, image block for images, video block for videos, etc.)

More technical info about the block editor and how to use it can be found here.

So my point is, don’t sweat too much over the different post types.

---

You can also write posts in HTML / Markdown!

If the default rich text editor is not enough for you, then get more power by using the HTML editor. It doesn't support all HTML elements, but at least you can do fancy stuff like adding some gradient text:

gradients are cool

To switch editors, click on the gear icon at the top of the editor, and in the Text Editor dropdown, choose between Rich Text, HTML, or Markdown. If you’re curious about Markdown, learn more about it here.

---

Some neat stuff you have to know about posting on Tumblr:

A. YOU CAN EDIT POSTS!!!

We’ve had an edit button here for years, and best of all, it’s free! However, for posts of yours that have been reblogged, even if you do edit the original post, the edits won’t be reflected on the reblogged version. More about reblogging in Part 4 of this guide.

B. You can post loooong articles here

Like Twitter, Tumblr also has a character limit for text. However, this limit is on a per-paragraph basis and not for your entire post. And it’s such a generous limit that I’ve never once hit it. I don’t even have to keep tabs on how many characters I’ve made. You can find a list of all the limits you have to keep in mind when using the NPF/beta editor at the bottom of this article.

C. You can save drafts and schedule posts

If you can’t finish that post right now, no worries. Just save it to your drafts first and finish it later. Or, if you’ve prepared a cool post for New Year even though it’s still November, just schedule that post to publish on a New Year. More about queue/scheduling in Part 4 of this guide.

---

Best Practices

I don’t think I need to do a step-by-step on how to use the editor because it’s pretty intuitive, so let’s talk about best practices when it comes to posting.

On stating trigger/content Warnings

In Twitter, you do this:

// tw: r*pe, g*re, m*utilation . . . . [actual triggering content]

Please don’t do this.

First of all, here on Tumblr, we do not censor out those “problematic” words. You have to spell them out so that people who have such words filtered in their settings will actually not see them. Getting content filters to work will be a pain if people have to keep in mind all variations of rape (r*ape, r@pe, r4pe, etc).

Second, those multiple dots don’t do anything. Instead, utilize the “Read More” block. This block will hide everything that comes after it under a “Keep Reading” link.

On desktop, you click on this icon that has a zigzag sandwiched between two horizontal lines:

On mobile, you do it by typing :readmore: and then hitting Enter.

(I’ll talk more about triggers/content warnings in Part 3, which will cover Tags)

Just spell everything out actually, not just trigger words

Instead of oomfs or moots, say mutals. Instead of unalive, say murder. No need to shorten or tone anything down here.

Add image ID’s

Image ID’s are basically descriptions of an image. This is important for people using screen readers. I’m guilty for not always following this, but just trust me on this.

On desktop, you hover over the image, click on the three dots that appear, and then click “Update image description.” Keep the description in simple words and state exactly what the image contains. I’m doing it for this particular image below:

On dashboard and on some themes, the image ID will be shown when you click on the ALT button that appears when you hover over the image.

Sometimes, when OP forgets to put an ID, someone will reblog the post and add the ID themselves. If you see someone doing this on one of your posts, then please be an angel and add that ID to the original post. Image descriptions will be more useful/have more impact if they’re actually part of the original post.

---

Link back to source

If you’re sharing someone else’s content from another site, please indicate the source. You can do this by adding a link to the source from within the post body itself, or by using Tumblr’s content source feature in the editor:

Click on the little gear above the editor, and in the “Content source” field, paste your link.

---

Do not repost other people’s gifs/edits

Sometimes you see a cool gif here on Tumblr that you want to use on your own post. People are generally fine with that, but you have to do it the right way.

DO NOT DO THIS: Downloading the gif and then uploading it to your own post.

Instead, DO THIS: Use Tumblr’s GIF block and search for a gif from there. Doing it this way would link back to the OP and even notify them in their Activity.

Here’s an example of how it looks:

The gif above is from my side blog, and below the image, it says “GIF by fyeahbachisagi.”

Post Controls

If you don’t want a certain post of yours to get around too much, you can disable reblogs on it. Click the gear icon at the top of the editor, and in the “Who can Reblog?” dropdown, choose from Anyone or No One.

Limits on Replies, however, is on a per-blog setting and not per post. Go to tumblr.com/settings/blog/username, and scroll all the way down until you see the setting for Replies.

---

Okay, that’s all for Part 2! Next up, in Part 3, I will talk about utilizing tags

Update: Part 3 is up! Well, kinda... Not exactly a guide catered to Twitter refugees, but still a guide to tagging:

A Guide to Tagging on Tumblr: Types of Tags

[ladyc0312]

A Jikook Guide to RunBTS: 112-121

Yes, I'm still doing these! It's just happening more slowly than I'd like because writing for work + writing fic + trying to go to bed before midnight + so much amazing content being released that clearly must be poured over and dissected = less time to make guides. For anyone still with me, he's the next section!

Ep 112 “Dalbang School Part 1” (Ep: 5 / KM: 4)

The ones with BTS in a classroom driving Teacher Jin insane

5:58 - JM declares that he and Taehyung will pair up (by being the first to hug each other in a game), but then when Hobi blows the whistle at 6:38, JK runs over to hug JM before Tae can get to him.

6:58 - Jin asks why JM said he wanted Tae and then hugged JK. JM explains that he didn't hug him, he just found himself in JK's hug as JK cackles in the background.

7:24 - When Jin blows his whistle at the class, JK and JM mirror each other in putting a finger in one of their ears.

7:35 - Teammates JK and JM are immediately on the same page about wanting their team name to be Kim Seokjin. When they have to change it, JM quickly picks up JK's suggestion that they call their team Bang Sihyuk. These don't sound like particularly unique moments, but when you watch it, it just really strikes you how in sync the two of them are in terms of physicality, ideas, and sense of humor.

9:52 - After Jin comments that he heard JM did very well in school, JK adds that JM was the top student. When someone else asks if JM was the best or second-best, JK forcefully reiterates that he was the best student.

12:45 - When they get a question right, JK and JM clasp hands and bump their shoulders together.

13:10 - JM and JK both goof around, speaking in satoori and challenging JHope to a fight of sorts.

13:27 - When Jin repeats that they got the question right, JK and JM do exactly the same as 12:45, but seated this time.

14:22, 14:36, 15:13 - In all three of these moments, JM nearly falls over laughing at something JK did that no one else found anywhere near as funny.

23:36 - When JK says he's good at this game, JM laughs and pokes JK in the chest with a marker.

BEHIND 2:30 - JM takes a selfie of him and JK with his personal phone while they're supposed to be paying attention to Jin.

6:35 - JK cheers on JM and calls him Jimin-ssi when JM announces he's doing well on this spot-the-difference round. When Jimin modifies the brag to say he only found four, JK says "that's still quite impressive."

Ep 113 “Dalbang School Part 2” (Ep: 5 / KM: 4)

4:50 - We all know how JK is when he gets into his "focus" zone, especially in a competitive environment. But here, when JM rather rudely interrupts JK's melodica practice, JK just starts playing around with him and giggles.

7:41 - As RM & JH take their turn, jikook are whispering to each other in the back row.

11:42 - After quickly agreeing on a lunch option, jikook do a high five / handshake thing and then JM says "we think alike" and "we get along pretty well." JK responds "that's exactly it" and the on-screen captions tells us they are a "good match."

22:20 - This is where JK and JM start switching back and forth carrying each other on their backs to get under a limbo stick.

They go again at 23:35, 26:11, and 28:13.

And again at 30:22 and 32:16 and 34:30 because, even though they lost, they want to try to do it again to show that they can as a "matter of pride."

25:00 - JK points something out to JM and then pats his butt.

33:33 - JM announces they lost, and then jikook do another handshake / high five thing.

34:33 - JM does an... interesting pose for the camera where he puts his hand on a bent-over JK's back and smirks.

34:56 - Yet another handshake and JM pats JK on the back when they finally pass the limbo challenge.

BEHIND 5:55 - While examining the limbo setup, JM comments that JK is good at this. JK comes over to give a demonstration and JM watches him be silly with it and says "he's a strange kid" fondly.

6:21 - Another jikook limbo attempt - this one was cut because they did it too easily.

Ep 114 “League of Number One Part 1” (Ep: 3 / KM: 1)

The ones where BTS play games with League of Legends world champions

3:55 - After Jimin protests that he shouldn't be out, JK tells his hyung to turn around and face the back.

14:40 - JK fake-boxes JM after losing the hammer game.

18:18 - JK mimics Jimin's BWL intro.

Ep 115 “League of Number One Part 2” (Ep: 2 / KM: .5)

BEHIND

7:05 - JK comes over to check on Jimin's phone to make sure he's actually visible in the selfie the teams take.

Ep 116 “Team-Building Special Part 1” (Ep: 4 / KM: 1)

The ones with random games in that rec room-looking place that are a lot more fun than they sound

22:14 - JM and JK play around with the jump rope during breaktime.

22:26 - JM and JK play around like they're boxing with each other.

BEHIND 5:15 - JK appears to take an interest in watching JM's... back as he moves around acting out potential poses.

Ep 117 “Team-Building Special Part 1” (Ep: 4 / KM: 2)

5:30 - Despite showing pretty much everyone else touching everyone else in the pose guessing game, we don't get a single shot here or in the behind of JK feeling up Jimin. The above photo proves that it happened, though, so definitely side-eyeing the editors, here.

BEHIND 5:35 - JK keeps throwing water bottles when they're supposed to be taking a group photo. Jimin pulls him back next to him and puts an arm around his neck. JK puts an arm around Jimin's shoulders in return.

7:51 - After it's explained that JK is staying late to watch Jin do his penalty, a packed-up Jimin comes over and stands next to JK, waiting until they're done to leave.

Ep 118 “Photo Story Part 1” (Ep: 3 / KM: 3)

The ones where BTS play a Samsung-sponsored game involving getting specific pictures while a spy tries to ruin the fun

4:22 - JM appears to direct JK to go punish Tae and pats JK's back when he starts to obey. Something happens that we don't see when the angle changes - next thing we see, JM seems to be pushing JK? JM then giggles at JK pretending to beat up Tae. (After this, JK spins around like a ballerina. Not jikook-related, just adorable.)

29:51 - JK calls Jimin twice without adding "hyung."

32:28 - JM pulls JK along by the wrist. Meanwhile, J-Hope once again mixes up their names.

32:44 - Though there is now a group walking slowly together and he doesn't need to pull him along anymore, Jimin takes JK's hand again.

37:02 - There are a bunch of seats open in the room, but Jimin walks over to sit right next to JK.

BEHIND 5:40 - When JM tries to steal a post-it from JK, JK scolds him in satoori banmal. JM calls him out for not calling him with hyung and JK quickly apologizes (in a way some k-army jikookers have said is like how a married person would respond to their nagging spouse!).

6:09 - JK and JM meet up and JK tells JM he's exhausted. There's a kind of weird moment that I fully admit I may be reading too much into where JK seems to be walking right towards JM, then abruptly stops and turns, looking at the camera, before walking with Jimin in a different direction than he had been heading. Then, JM says he thinks their matching shirts are hilarious and that it's funny they're wearing them for the show.

Ep 119 “Photo Story Part 2” (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

8:21 - "You are me, I am you" moment: Jimin does a ballet spin the same way JK did in part one.

11:18 - JK is the only one to vote for JM to be able to keep a picture in other than Jin (who has nefarious reasons for doing so).

29:40 - JM goes over to help JK see how many of his photos the spy ruined and almost falls over laughing when it becomes clear it's nearly all of them.

34:21 - JM puts his hand on JK's shaking leg to help calm him (see above photo), but JK is so irritated that it doesn't work like it usually does. Poor bunny!

35:17 - JM pulls at JK's shirt and hand, then folds over his back while trying to get him to confess that he actually lost.

38:24 - JM has a comforting hand on JK's neck when he's acting upset about losing.

38:32 - When it seems like JK is struggling to come up with an ending statement, JM helps prompt him.

BEHIND

0:55 - JK talks about how amazing it is that Jimin found so many cards.

3:51 - When JK is playing with the sequin art on the front of his shirt, JM leans over and starts rubbing on them, too.

5:11 - Jimin tells JK that, if he wins, he's going to make the loser hike Mt. Achasan. JK asks why he's looking at him when he says that and they both laugh. Jimin pats JK's chest and they laugh even harder. Jin and Tae both have "omg, these two" looks on their faces.

Ep 120 “Reply BTS Village Part 1” (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

The ones with a real-life Mafia game inexplicably set in a 1970s village. It's... fairly difficult to follow, but the guys are into it and the outfits are great!

24:40 - Jimin breaks character and laughs when asking JK if he's the culprit.

29:40 - Caption: "The air is undeniably tense between Gamer Jeon and Chief Park." Not explicitly jikook, I just find it funny that the writers seem to be playing with some real life relationships, making sope best friends and jikook have tension that leads to banter...

BEHIND

5:34 - When Jimin is playing with the yo-yo, JK expresses concern that he's going to hurt his fingers (caption: Kook is just worrying for his hyung). Then, JK asks poutily and in banmal if he can play with the yo-yo multiple times and Jimins says no. Like, JK straight-up gives his hyung a command ("let me try that") using informal speech and no one bats an eye!

5:58 - Jimin starts singing a song about an ants. JK watches him. JK initially says to Hobi "look, he's a fool/dummy!" (in banmal again), then starts singing along. He jokes that JM doesn't know all the lyrics and Jimin says back "quiet, you."

Ep 121 “Reply BTS Village Part 2” (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

38:48 - After having asked for it a bunch in the Behind of the previous episode, JK now has Jimin's yoyo.

non-jikook note: At the end of this one, they "time travel" to solve a mystery in Joseon-era Korea and I can't express how badly I want to see that. Please come back to that, Run!

BEHIND 0:58 - Jimin and JK play around accusing each other with exaggerated accents and formality. Jimin comes up behind JK and reaches out to touch his shoulder, but stops when Tae joins them and accuses them of plotting together.

9:05 - When JK says everyone else is so good at acting, Jimin compliments him that he was very funny towards the end.

[bakersstreetirregulars]

BRAVER TOGETHER! CRK x BTS Collaboration

🌰 We’re all ready and good to go!

☁️ We’re live in 5… 4… 3… 2… camera… SHOWTIME!!!

⚙️ HELLO EVERYONE!!! I’m Strawberry Crepe Cookie, your higher-than-intelligent magichanical genius and your host for the Baker’s Street Newsblog’s coverage of the BTS Cookies in the Cookie Kingdom! I’m joined here by my co-host and original personality of the blog since day one, the one and only Chestnut Cookie!

🌰 Wow! This is really happening! And it’s going for almost a hundred days too, all the way through January 19th, 2023!

⚙️ Behind his smart-cloud camera of another kingdom, he’s filmed top-tier go-kart races, fights in outer space, every kind of major sport in the world, and he’s our Editor’s assistant and representative. Please welcome to the Blog… Lemon-Lime Meringue Cookie ☁️!

☁️ Hiya everyone! It’s such an awesome experience being here filming for the BTS Cookies AND the Baker’s Street Newsblog with my first friend in this kingdom since I moved in! I’m just a tad camera shy… but I’ll be there for the new and improved photo-op of our cast and Board of Directors! I’ll be your turtle’s cloud’s eye view of the concert from start to finish, no Spiny strings attached! Now let’s go down to the Cookie Bowl Concert Hall where we’ll see Jin Cookie show us how to rock the stadium!

But first, you’ll need Concert Tickets to do anything in the event, at about 15 Tickets per concert song. As of now, “Dynamite” and “Permission to Dance” are available to play from the get-go for rankings, but I’m sure more songs will rotate in later into the event.

⚙️ You see those ARMY Bombs? Those will add to your score and double as a special resource to pull from a special Crossover Gacha. Use the arrow buttons to switch lanes and collect them, as well as other jellies and gold coins worth 5 coins each after the song ends. The more items you collect, the higher your combo!

🌰 Just like in Ovenbreak, use the Jump and Slide buttons to collect more jellies and dodge obstacles! Collisions will lower your Energy further and further. Collide too many times, and the game’s over!

☁️ Once you make it to the stage, it’s showtime! Get those rhythm gaming skills (or lack thereof) at the ready and click the notes as they align with the outlines for even more points! If the note is attached to a line, hold down the note and release it when another note on the other side of the line crosses the outline for multiple notes!

If you collide with an obstacle or miss a note, you’ll lose your combo and you’ll have to start all over again.

Once you’ve finished the song, you’ll get a score and rank depending on how you did! Get an A or an S rank and you’ll unlock a higher difficulty level for a chance to get even MORE rewards! If you’re feeling extra funky and happen to be short on time to not do more than one attempt, then try cashing in multiple Concert Ticket entries before you start to multiply your repeat winnings! Although you could buy more if you wanted to, you can get one back for free every 20 minutes to a limit of 100 before they stop refilling.

BTS Crossover Gacha

⚙️ You’ll need ARMY Bombs to pull from the gacha and have the chance to meet the BTS Special Cookies, find their soulstones, unlock their Special Costumes, and even get special decorations that produce even more ARMY Bombs during the event! Certain decorations were designed during the “Tales of the BANGTAN Kingdom” videos on the CRK CookieTube channel, so definitely look at those for context for how each member of BTS designed them!

🌰 The special decorations even play BTS music through September 2023 when highlighted! Each pull also collects mileage points that can be redeemed at a special BTS Mileage Shop for the Costumes, Soulstones, and any decoration in the collab event! Meet all seven BTS Cookies to unlock an extra item heading full of useful stuff!

(The lights go out)

⚙️ WHAT THE-?!

💀 HEHEHEHEHEHE…! The B.A.D 4 awaits…!

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 58 - [NSFW] The truth behind the DIR EN GERY misprint, and a mysterious voice...

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, with this week's episode of the Freedom of Expression. Joe, Tasai, welcome...Um..

T: Ah!

J: What is it?

T: No way!

K: Its 'Young Jump'

J: Ah, Young Jump.

K: I think you already know about this, but we put an ad on it like this *shows back page*.

J: Oh, looks great!

T: Yeah, it does. Very impactful.

K: Its good, isn't it?

T: Yeah, great impact.

K: There's something a bit odd about it.

J: Haha

T: Huh? Where?

J: Eh? Something odd?

K: Yeah, its a bit strange. There's a bit of a mistake.

J: Is the kanji for Oboro correct?

K: Yeh, and this is right, about the release on the 28th of April.

J: And Wenesday is correct, right?

K: Yeah, and the explosion screening schedule is ok.

T: Yeah, it is.

K: The ticket price info is also all fine.

J: Yep.

K: After that there's only this bottom section.

J:Yeah.

T: DIR EN...

T, J: GERY, haha.

J: Has a new band formed?

K: We screwed up.

J, T: Hahaha

K: Its hard to believe, right?

J: Incredible. I did not expect this..Dir en gery.

T: I thought it was like a trick or something.

J: Oh, to make it go viral or..?

T: Yeah, going with Dir en gery.

J: Kaoru, what was it?

T: We'll find out about it here.

K: It was a total mistake.

J, T: Hahaha

J: Seriously? Eh? Really?

K: Yeah.

T: Does that mean it was done on a hurry, if its a seroius mistake?

K: Yeah, I guess so.

J: Well, Tasai, you work for a newspaper, and I also work for Rolling Stone, so we understand this, but our work is handed in for checking, you know, proof-reading. And they do spot mistakes, but honestly, I have never seen mistake of this size before.

T: Yeh. This is at the level of 'accident'. However, there is a case for saying that we cannot attack this. What I mean by that is that we too make mistakes.

J: Yes, thats true. There is that. Well, this goes for magazines etc too, but if you do proof-reading within the organization, for example, if the writer writes an article, the editor will proof-read it, and they may intend to, but if everyone is really busy with loads of other work, they will run out of time. Then they will get it checked by an external proof-reader. Even then there are sometimes still typos left over.

T: Yeah, there are.

J: There are, right? Human error happens.

T: Yeah, like if I misspell a name or something, I can correct it on the digital version, but on paper it appears on every copy out there.

J: Yeah..

K: But like this?!

J: Yeah, we say this, but we've never seen a typo this bad. Like, I've mistaken small details in names and stuff before.

K: Yeah, like Young Jump becoming Young JumP, right?

J, T: Yeh, haha.

K: Not like this! *points to 'GERY'*

J: Haha, this is...

*Sound of strange voice occurs in background - On screen text: 'What was that voice?! One more time.. (Clip of strange voice re-plays) No-one during the filming heard this. Its a mystery voice'*

J: Tell us what happened?

T: Yeah, lets ask.

K: Um, we had the design made, and the designer made the regular logo and put it down here in this fixed spot, so it looked as if the logo was done, even though there was a mistake in it. At the time, I wasn't looking at the band name, I was looking at the overall design, and ths impact it had. Like this image of Kyo from RokumaykanGIG. My eyes were drawn to the best parts of the design. It wasn't really designed to emphasize the band name. Its designed to showcase this top part, so I, like, didn't see it. Die didn't even see it, and he normally checks these really carefully. Even if we miss something, he normally spots it straight away. 

J: Ah, even Die didn't notice it! ???*1

K: Yeah. We were too busy checking that there were no mistakes in the tour schedule.

J: Yeah.

K: But the information is all correct, so if its just the band name with a mistake, well, maybe its ok.

T: This could become a really rare item in time to come.

J: Yeah, cause there isn't gonna be a misspelling with Dir en grey again after this. That point will be strengthened.

K: Not for a while yeah. A long time ago, we had a single out called 'Filth', and there was a mistake in the title of the song on the cover jacket.

T: Eh? So this is the second time this has happened to you?

K: Well...yeh.

T: Hahaha

K: Well, we occasionally make small mistakes *2, but...

T: This is big.

J: Can I suggest something? Good things come in threes.

K: Ah, terrible.

J: So there will be a third time to come, imagine it, it could be both the title and the band name with a mistake.

T: Hahaha

K: Well, what can I do about it now? If you buy the single 'Filth' even now, its still like that. So filth is spelled f-i-l-h..huh? h-f...um, it's..

T: ..t-h

K: f-i-l-t-h, but the i became f, I mean h. So because there were two h's I realised the mistake. If there really is only one h, it could be that they just made the letters look in that style, but they look the same to me.

T: Ehh? I want to line Filth up next to this magazine.

J: Yeah

J, K: Hahaha

T: Don't you have it here? Filth?

K: We do.

T: Lets put them out together!

K: When I saw this (*Young Jump*) though, well, I thought it was quite rare*3, it could become a talking point. If you take a bad thing in a smooth way, someone will notice, so I thought we could just go with it.

J: Brilliant!

K: And then I posted on Twitter, like 'Ooops'. And that was a photo of the actual magazine, so it really was like 'ooops'.

T: As soon as I saw your Tweet, I was like 'Huh?!' and I went to the convenience store and bought it. haha

J: Well, in that sense it is a rare item

T: Can we decide on the correct reading for this? How would you say it?

K: Ge-ri?

J: Dir en gery (ge-ri).

K: jeri? geri?

J: geri? jeri?

T: gari?

J: Its geri, right? Well, jeri is like..

K: In the basic form its geri, right?

J: Yeah. jeri might have to be 'Gerry' with two r's.  Which is best Dir en jeri or Dir en geri?

T: Should we decide? Even though it doesn't really matter.

J: Yeah

J: Dir en geri sounds like a struggling country rock artist or something, haha. Dir en jeri has jellyfish vibes.

T: The official name: Dir en Gery (jeri). haha.

J: I want you guys to do a joke live show as Dir en gery. You could switch parts, like Kaoru, you could be on drums.

K: Ah, but we did kinda do that once, we changed parts on stage. I just made a load of noise.

J: Ahh, so you could do that as Dir en gery somewhere officially and play one song.

T: Ahh, thats a good idea.

J: Do a cover or something.

T: You could do ???*4

K: Er, no. haha.

J: Haha, this will getting bigger and bigger.

T: But I heard recently at the MeguroRokumaykanGIG screening, Kyo said  that Toshiya used to play guitar a long time ago.

K: He was playing guitar the first time we saw him playing in a band...well, I don't know if he was playing it, or just waving it around a lot.

T: Yeah, Kyo said the stage was going wild.

K: Yeah, he wasn't playing.

J: So, when you guys switched instruments on stage, what did you do Kaoru?

K: Drums.

J: Oh, drums?

K: Thats the one I wanna try out the most.

J: So if you guys played as Dir en gery, Kaoru, you would be..?

T: Drums?

K:...Nah....*imitates playing the castanets*

J: Tambourine? Oh, castanets? So, it doesn't necessarily have to be the same instruments you play at the moment?

K: Yeah. As long as we play as a proper band.

J: Yeah, so Kyo could play the recorder..

T: Someone could hit the ???*5

J: Yeah, yeah. Oh, that would be good.

*The single Filth gets passed over*

K: I'll just get it out.

*K shows cover jacket to J*

J: Oh, here, right?

K: Can you see, there are two h's.

J: Yes. I see.

*K shows it to T*

J: The first h is a typo?

K: Yeah.

T: Its a bit difficult to spot though.

K: We didn't even notice, we thought it was just the design.

J: Yeah. Put them together now.

*K puts magazine and CD together*

J, T: Hahaha

K: By the way, it was the same person who designed both of these.

J, T: Haha

K: When he saw it he was so pained.

T: Its ok, ???*6

J: Ahh, well, it can't be helped though.

*On screen note: Again? (weird voice appears)*

J: Even if there is a spelling mistake, its conveying the atmosphere that is the main thing.

K: Yeah, thats the emphasis.

J: But on the other hand, you could say that as soon as 'Dir' appears, people recognise it as Dir en grey, even with this kind of misspelling. The name is that well know.

T: Hmm, yeh

K: Hm, well, yeh, if you look at it up to here. But for us, its impossible.

J: Well, I guess yeah. It goes for Rolling Stones too. For example, if the last n in Rolling Stones became an m, you wouldn't immediately spot it. If it came up all of a sudden, you would just think 'Ah, the Stones'. It's that kind of name recognition. You could see it in that way. But I didn't know it was the same designer who did it both times.

K: Our boss was pretty mad about it.

J, T: Hahaha

J: Really? I see.

K: He couldn't believe it.

J: Well, yeah. Its also the most important part.

T: Well, yeah, and cause its already in circulation.

J: Yeah. Well, everyone can keep it as a treasure.

K: Where's Kami?

J: Yeah, isn't he here?

Kami: Oh, Im here, I was just listening the whole time. People make mistakes, right?

T: They do.

Kami: This is just a mistake. So its wrong to point blame.

T, J: Yes.

J: Kami, have you made a mistake recently or something?

Kami: Im always making mistakes, and always getting into trouble.

J, T: Haha

Kami: As soon as you've made a mistake, it hurts, right?

T: Yeah, I know that feeling.

Kami: Yeah.

J: Yeah, the person who made the mistake knows it, you don't have to tell them.

T: Yeah, that hurts the most.

Kami: I bet if you made a mistake like this though, you'd get into big trouble.

T, K: Haha

Kami: I think you really would.

T: Well, heh, yeah. But if even Die overlooked this..its like a demon interferred..

J: Yeah, unbelievable.

K: But, anyway, Im taking it in a good way. Well, I mean, it's not good to take just any old thing in a positive way, but....its a bit like those remarks by Mori that we discussed recently.

J: Oh yeah.

K: Like how to move on with it.

J: Yeah, we can learn from that.

K: Yeah.

*Sound cuts out. On screen note: Suddenly, we were unable to record to voices. Was it linked to that sound we heard earlier?*

K: Um, the sound..

J: It seems as if the sound went off.

T: I wonder whether its to do with what we just talked about?

K: What, like, 'Stop this conversation?'

J: Haha, like from ths designer's perspective...'Please stop it!'

T: Haha, yeah, 'Please!'

J: So, what about the Oboro single?

K: So, we're at the last stage, just the mastering, and a little more discussion, and we're about finished. And then the packaging. Well, there's just a little bit longer till the 28th, about another month.

J: Well, Im looking forward to it.

K: Ok, lets finish here for this week. Thank you.

*On screen note: The voice that no-one, including the staff, heard during recording was recorded into the mic data.*

*1,4,5,6 Couldn't catch

*2, 3 Not entirely sure

To top

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Murder, He Wrote

Co-written with @southerngracela

Part 1 

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist. 

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places.  Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room. The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone. With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. “Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat “Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize”  you bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Aalongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. 

And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness. 

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. 

His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you Princess? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat. 

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out 3 vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** WIYPT Tag List:

Everything

@momobaby227 @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @nerdofthefandoms @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jtargaryen18 @redhairedfeistynerd @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @jhayes6984 @anika-ann @icanfeelastormbrewing @gigglegirl77 @princess-evans-addict @mes-2016 @theladybiers @void-hoechlin 

Ransom Drysdale

@patzammit @icandothisallday @capsiclewinter​ @this-is-serenaa​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @perplexed3001​ @twittytelly​ @kelbabyblue​ @maan24​

If your name appears above but the tag isn’t live please let me know.