#if i had a time machine my god

[navree]

god every time i see a gifset of tgc with his natural blond hair i get so horrifically angry at the stupid domina show all over again

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

“hold on to your heart” // do me a favour live at forest hills stadium new york 08/09/23 ♡

[lynxfrost13]

LSTR-S2301 and the maintenance tunnel ARAR are best friends to me even though that Elster was only on sierpinski for a seemingly brief time, they’re bros who fuck around on the clock during work. I think Elster was probably more willing to put extra time in however she’s also very “okay you’ve given me a list of tasks I did them. They’re done and done well. That’s it, my time now.” Whereas I see Ara being more of a slacker (very valid of her) or at the very least just a bare minimum type of gal when it comes to work.

Idk I tend to imagine them fucking off in the middle of shifts to go find weird lonely corners of sierpinski to hang out in. They don’t even talk half the time but they love it.

[bonefall]

How do the researchers react to the clan cats leaving the lake for a time?

You mean the little patrols they send out?

They aren't aware of them, EXCEPT for the Beaver Expedition that Dovepaw was on. They found out about that one because they got a phone call from the team in charge of the beaver introduction.

It was NERVE WRACKING. Both teams were terrified the other would injure their subjects. They were horrified when the cats dug out the top of the dam and pulled the squealing baby beavers out, thinking this was going to end BADLY, but practically cried in relief and excitement when the Clan cats baited the parents towards the lake.

(I like to imagine someone on the beaver team ended up hitting it off with someone on the Clan cat team. The wedding cake was cats and beavers.)

But generally? They don't know about expeditions. Sometimes they catch them leaving, but don't have the funding to chase them down.

Clan cats are also not under constant surveillance. Very important to understand this. Clan cats will attack anything that upsets them and good cameras are expensive; they snuck one into the ThunderClan Camp once in like 2009, and Firestar dug it up at the stake and dropped it down the WindClan border ravine because it was freaking his warriors out.

(The cats don't understand that the cameras watch; they just don't like the Freaky Human Thing)

So the team has to be careful, not install too many, and hide the ones they do have. They don't want the cats to move again.

[voomity]

More frenrey doodles (i need to hit him with rocks)(in a positive way)(you get it)

[raineandsky]

A Date in Exchange

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

It’s been several days of not seeing the villain—they’re not even in the streets anymore. It’s getting close to the point in the week where they show up on the hero’s doorstep with that stupid flurry of flowers and that even stupider scowl that keeps getting darker with each week, but their silence is making the hero think they might skip out on their little date night for the first time.

They know their parents would worry if they suddenly went radio silent on their supposed partner. That’s what this feeling is. They’re not concerned for the villain. They just have a lot riding on them showing up. That’s all.

Their concern for the villain’s absence manifests into a short text message, one of many sent over the past few days.

I was hoping we could talk about things. It’s our usual night - I’ll get some wine and we can keep it casual?

The sound of their phone pinging 15 minutes later almost stops their heart, and they practically vault over their table to snatch their phone up.

I wanted to talk anyway. I’ll be there at my usual time

It’s the most grammatically correct message the villain’s ever sent, and it makes the hero’s insides twist nervously. They've never used capitalisation in their life. Or punctuation. They want to talk.

That’s not what matters though, the hero tells themself. They’re coming. I can fix things.

Things could be shit with the villain for all they care. This is only because of their parents. Nothing else.

The hero doesn’t set up some random activity like they usually do. They don’t want their nemesis to think that they’re trying to pretend everything is fine. They set an empty vase on the table, throw a lasagne in the oven just in case, and simply opt to wait.

The sound of their own doorbell ringing is as relieving as it is nauseating. The villain is on their doorstep, of course, and they don’t even try to offer the hero a smile. They somehow get more bothered when the door opens, if anything.

“Hey,” the hero opens softly. They step back to let the villain in, but they stay rooted to their spot outside.

“I’m not staying long,” the villain tells them flatly, and the hero can feel that twist again. “I’m just here to say something.”

“Surely you can say it out of the cold.”

The villain heaves a deep breath, their sigh puffing in a cloud in front of their face. “I’m calling it off.”

The hero can’t define what feeling is gnawing at them at the news. Betrayal? Annoyance? Heartbreak? “Is… is this because of my parents?”

The villain shrugs half-heartedly. “I think what your mother said put some stuff into perspective about what we’re doing. I can’t marry you because she said so, jesus.”

“You can ignore her,” the hero says instantly. “She doesn’t understand.”

“Exactly. How long are you expecting me to lie about this, [Hero]?” The villain’s expression turns pissed. “Do we have a beautiful wedding, have kids, die together? Where’s the line?”

They’ve clearly been thinking about this a lot. No wonder they disappeared for so long. “She can’t make us get married, [Villain]. That doesn’t have to happen.”

“Good, because there’s no way in hell I would marry you like this.”

Something in that hurts, and the hero can’t quite tell why. “Can you just come in? I put a lasagne on and I don’t want to waste it.”

They’re not sure why they’re so set on saving this, but the villain looks past them and into the comfortable warmth, and the slightly defeated nod they give the hero makes their heart sing with hope.

The villain makes an attempt to settle into the sofa as the hero goes about taking the lasagne out of the oven. It’s a little burnt—they timed it a bit too well with the villain’s arrival. The edges are crisp but it’s still edible, and they carefully dollop it onto a pair of plates.

“I get that you don’t want to marry me, and I’m not asking you to.” The hero slides a plate in front of the villain, who doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite. “Don’t let my mother put you off.”

“Why are you so set on me doing this?” The question would be cold if it wasn’t for the slight knit in the villain’s eyebrows. “Why couldn’t you have asked anyone else?”

They wish they knew—they’re sure their parents would like any other so-called partner they could bring home. It would feel wrong doing it with anyone else, though. It’s easier to shrug it off when it’s with someone you hate, right?

They let their gaze rest on the villain, though, their eyes searching the hero’s for a semblance of an answer, their lips pulled into a slightly concerned frown, and for god’s sake they’re still stunning. It’s unfair. Things are starting to make sense alarmingly fast, sitting there staring at their fake lover, and they decide that they need to stop thinking right now.

“I don’t know.” They get to their feet so they can find an excuse to look elsewhere, beelining for the alcohol cupboard. “Look, it’s my father’s birthday this weekend, and I don’t want to ruin it with bad news. Can you hold off until then?”

“Please don’t make me actually pretend to be in a relationship with you in front of other people again.”

The hero grimaces, and the villain goes through the five stages of grief based on their expression alone. “He invited you.”

“I hate you and your parents,” the villain tells them with a scowl.

“So you’ll come?” the hero asks hopefully. A wine bottle pops open in their hand, and the villain doesn’t complain.

They scowl again, and it’s infuriating that they look so good doing it. “Last time ever. After that we stop lying and it’s over.”

The idea of this being a cold memory in less than a week hurts more than it should. The hero misses five minutes ago when they couldn’t figure out why. “Promise.”

(Final part!)

[takamoris]

If I had a time machine I would go back to 2010 and tell myself to start playing FFXIV sooner.

[vitospaghetta]

I don't know why every single customer I've been in correspondence with the last two weeks have been the biggest dickheads on the fucking planet but I'm [very professionally] calling one out on lying to me right now which feels very VERY good. 🩷

[astrophysicist-guitar-god]

So...while checking my phone yesterday at work on my own time ::cough:: I saw a video on my timeline that looked like a bit of One Vision behind the scenes, and it showed Roger's drums, the guitars, etc., and at the verrrrrrrrrrrry end, about a second and a half of Brian in the distance at a keyboard (pretty sure he was wearing The Shorts (TM)).

I had it on mute, but people in the comments mentioned how beautiful the song was and said something about butterflies, or the/a butterfly...

When I got home I scrolled back a day and a half in my timeline, went through the tags, and in true tumblr fashion, I cannot find this post. I'm now wondering if it was just a lovely a fever dream.

Help?

Edited to add: Huzzah! Thank you to @themonkeespaw for pointing me in the right direction! I've now reblogged so I can have it forever. <3<3<3

[sbeana]

i have to really really truly love someone to go hiking with them because i love hiking. i love saying "ready set go" to myself and absolutely demolishing every energy reserve within my body in order to prove to myself i have even a quarter of the stamina and energy and strength of my cavemen ancestors. i love it. but i walk so damn fast and take the hardest trails and sometimes people cannot keep up and if i do not truly truly love them i will simply say "suck it up buttercup. we have mountains to climb and rocks to get in our shoes" all without an ounce a trace a shred of empathy. you put me on a trail and i become an apex predator

[childoftheriver]

The boys

[mwagneto]

i really love kick scooters i've been using one to get around instead of walking whenever possible since i was like 10 and i'd like to say i'm fairly good at it but sometimes when i'm hurtling downhill at landscape blurring speeds it does occur to me that i'm gambling my life on 2 metal pipes and 2 wheels small enough to be tripped up by a pebble

[zonotrichia-albicollis]

Giant personal vent time

This guy stole somewhere between 3 to 6 MILLION dollars from my grandmother by conning my great aunt into signing over her estate and medical & financial power of attorney to him literally on her death bed

I and my aunt have been working basically a whole second job the last 3 months trying to get together a legal case to go after this guy. And now my grandma wants to drop it. And no one else has standing so what the fuck can we do.

This man has absolutely done this to other ppl before, there is no doubt in my mind. I’ve seen his property records for just what’s publicly available in my county and it’s sketchy as hell. I am never going to get over this but there’s nothing I can do.

Gonna put like a million more thoughts in the tags because I’m losing my fucking mind.

[nomairuins]

i just fucking hate having ptsd all of it. so many stupid fucking things send me into fucking hysterics it sucks and i hate it and i dont want itttt anymore i dont want it.

[b1gwings]

swashbuckler rogue my beloved

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 17 / 31 * DAVE'S NIGHT OFF 」

March 3, 1986, Twin Pines Timeline(β)

Five months since Marty’s sudden disappearance. 

Linda doesn’t even have to pretend she doesn’t know exactly where she’ll find Dave when he’s not at home. If he’s not working, busting his ass taking whatever job that pays so he can keep funnelling it into the supplies to stock this cursed garage, he’s hunched over on the couch, buried up to his brain in papers that may as well be written in Greek for all he can read them. 

It’s the same place he spends most of his free time these days; surrounded by ghosts and a couple of Mom’s swiped bottles of vodka.

Not like she notices when a couple of them go missing. 

Dave once said he could hear Marty in here. Like he was still alive. Still here, because Marty’s not dead. He’s somewhere, God-only-knows, but he’s not dead because they only found one body in that parking lot and Marty had to be there because he was Doctor Brown’s fucking shadow—but since Marty’s body wasn’t there, just that truck and that poor dog—Einstein or Edison or whatever; some dead scientist—lying next to the body, according to the cops, that meant someone must have kidnapped him.

They're faint echoes, Linda, he'd said, three-quarters deep into a bottle, but he sounds happy.  

It sounds like bullshit, but it's far more than anything they have at the moment.

And it means, regardless of however tightly she has to wring her own heart to get even a single drop of hope out of it, there's a chance Marty is still alive. 

“How long have you been here today?” Dave pretends not to hear her. Or maybe he wilfully ignores her. Once, she knew how to tell. “Dave, face it. T—”  

“Shut the fuck up, Linda,” Dave snaps, and it takes every ounce of her resolve not to march up to him and slap him in the face for that. 

It’s grief that made him an asshole. It isn’t him. It has a way of burrowing into the deepest, most vulnerable parts of a person and poisoning them from the inside out until they were but shadows of their former selves. 

It’s already hollowed her out, stuffed her full of ice and made a cold, heartless bitch out of her until she was numb to the world. She figured that out when her mother’s broken sobs didn't spear her through the heart like they used to. As if it was her fault.

Why weren't you nicer to him that night?

That shouldn’t be an excuse. But she lets it be for Dave’s sake, and her own, because maybe, as fucking crazy as it sounds, they’ll just find that one in a million breakthrough scattered in the ramblings of a dead man. 

Who apparently claims he learned to leap through time. 

Some good that did him if it was true. He’s buried in Oak Park Cemetery, looking like Swiss cheese. Wasn’t time-travel supposed to help prevent exactly that?  

Maybe it could have saved Marty.  

Maybe it’s exactly what stole Marty away from them.  

“They’re going to tear this place down, Dave. In two weeks! T-w-o. And they’re not going to stop the bulldozers because you’re glued to that fucking couch. What good are you going to be dead? Do you know what that’s going to do to Mom?” She puts her hands on her hips and might have inwardly shuddered at how much she sounded like Mom if she had the energy.  

With Marty gone, she didn’t expect to be an older sister again. 

After a long, tense silence, she finally sighs. She didn’t come here to fight. “Did you eat anything today?” He’s swimming in his T-shirts now; they’re all but falling off his shoulders.  

Dave huffs, dragging his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Jen left about twenty minutes ago; she’s grabbing Chinese. You know, that place...where...”

Yeah. I know.

“I gave her some money. Then we’re gonna go back to this.” He spreads his arms, gesturing to the mess of paperwork that makes just as much sense as it did four and a half months ago.

“Are you staying?”

Linda says yes because a part of her, too, is trapped within these four walls.