#just a little something fun

[ask-pmd-ttas-gang]

Smiles that go for miles…

[asheanon]

For fun, I'm thinking about being a funky little fella in the RP corner and invading people's inboxes with something completely random from a range that would be: completely random character, familiar character to yours or a character of your choosing. 🐌📧

If you'd like for me to send something in, like this post!

+ If you'd like for me to send something from a specific character, let me know in the comments! Otherwise, it's just... whatever comes to me. 😎

++ I'll likely default to one of the main four, given no specification, however... this could even be from a character not listed there, but here...

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas22: Day 4: The Meadow

Bit of a chaotic day today, so we've had a change of plans!

Today's offering is a little one shot I wrote back in June - some classic Human Alice/Vampire Jasper because that's a genre that never goes out of style.

I'm off to catch up on some much needed sleep, lovelies, I hope you enjoy this!

It’s not their first assignation or their tenth, the night she confesses. He rolls off her, and she puts her leggings back on (always cold, that’s Alice’s thing). She leaves her sweater bunched up on the ground and for a moment he just admires her. Barefoot, in the flimsiest bra he’s ever seen (he really doesn’t have much of a reference point for modern brassieres though, to be fair), and leggings that shimmer when she moves. 

He’s left bruises on her again; one on her jaw, one that spills down her neck, thumb and finger prints over her ribs and arms and stomach. She always shrugs them off, blames herself and her body for the fact that he can’t even touch her without staining her. 

The flowers and grass of the meadow scratch at her skin as well; red welts have risen on her back from being pressed back into them. She doesn’t seem to care about that either. 

There are wildflower petals sticking to her hair, and it makes her look almost inhuman. Like she’s going to fade into the night sky as the world darkens around them. 

He truly wishes she wasn’t human. However this started, as fumbling and groping at each other tucked behind the old outbuildings at school, hoping that his siblings never, ever found out about this weakness, it’s now something that has very quickly carved itself into him. That it’s Alice he turns to after a bad day, even if he can’t tell her why it’s bad and hard. It’s Alice who grounds him and calms him in dark corners, where no one will see them and make assumptions. 

He never asked her if it was okay they weren’t public; that they were never seen together. But Alice never said anything, and just accepted what he offered at face-value.

“Jasper?”

Her voice is flat, and she lies back to stare at the sky, at the gap the clouds have left; pink streaks of afternoon turning blue. 

“Yes?” He stretches out next to her once he’s clothed again, his head on her school bag. She immediately rolls closer, burrowing against him; she always claims he’s warm and he tries so carefully to make sure he wears the warmest sweatshirts so she never realises it isn't him. 

(He kind of loves that she holds him rather than puts her own sweater back on. It’s still weird for him that she seeks him out, that she sees him in such a way.)

“Can I tell you the big secret?” She looks over at him. 

She doesn’t say much about herself really. What he knows about her is vague and general, and she’ll say that she doesn’t want to talk about something if he pushes too close. Talking about that makes me tired is her go-to response if they skim the edges of that big Something in her life. 

(What does he know? That her mom walked out when she was seven and Cynthia was one, and never came back. That her mom moved across the country, married a local with family money, and produced three blond children for her brand new family. That until they moved to Forks, her contact with her mother was a video-call four times a year, for no longer than thirty minutes. That Cynthia had no memories of her at all, and yet they were shipped off to live with her.) 

“You can tell me anything you want,” he says immediately. Her eyes look dark purple in this light, and he truly…

“I’m dying.” She closes her eyes briefly. “I’m going to die.” She puts her hand over her eyes for a second, to compose herself. The grief and heartbreak and frustration that comes off her fizzes like oil in a hot pan against him for a moment, and he wants to crush her into a hug, except he can already see his bruises darkening on her. (He knows her legs will be the real mess, of bruises staining her thighs down to her knees; he can see the ring of fingerprints around her ankle where he held it too tightly. He had nearly cried the first time he’d seen what he’d done to her, and she’d shrugged it off. I bruise like a peach, Jasper. It’s a medical thing. Don’t worry about it.)

“Tell me,” he breathes, and he allows himself to tuck her hair out of her eyes. 

The words spill out like thorns. A brain tumour that has finally burrowed itself too far in that it can’t be fixed (she lets him trace the scar under her hair; far too large for her, they had to break her open to be able to get it all out. Scars have never made him squeamish before, but this one makes him sick.) Diagnosed when she was fourteen; her migraines were blinding her. Surgery and chemo and more surgery and more meds and then… 

“And then Daddy sat me down and told me there was nothing left they could do, just ‘maintenance’.” Her voice is waspish with anger. “That mother deserved to spend time with me before I was gone as if he didn’t need me gone and under the care of a different doctor so he could fuck my oncologist in peace.” Her rage at such a betrayal is sharp and that’s when he reaches for her. 

“And now I’m going to die and leave my sister with a mother she doesn’t know and just wants some live-in baby-sitter. I’m not going to college. I’m never going home again. I’m never going to live. I’ll be lucky if I ever get to drink legally.” Her breath comes out in a shuddering breath and then she looks at him. 

“I see my new surgeon tomorrow but there’s nothing anyone can do. I just… the first moment I can’t take care of myself, Mom will ship me off to hospice in Port Angeles or Seattle or something. I needed to tell you the truth before I go. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to just go away to die without you knowing. It's weird, it’s been nagging at me that I never told you.”

He feels like something has been tipped. That all of a sudden the world is rearranging itself. 

(Bruises and migraines and always been cold. The way she sees distant from the entire high school experience. How thin she is, how easily they took up with each other, with no promises or oaths. The sharp tones of her scent, the rattling pill bottles in the bottom of her book bag…) 

He looks down at her and her eyes are beautiful. She is beautiful and angry and funny and smart and he could save her. He could give her a life. A chance. A little bit of hope. That he can’t give he back her sister, but he can give her something more. 

(He wants to. The word is on the tip of his tongue. That the way she smiles, spins on her toes, wriggles free of her clothing in the middle of this fucking meadow, twirls her pen when she’s thinking in class; the way her tongue sticks out of the side of her mouth when she reads, and she fucking clings to him every single time they kiss. If he doesn’t, he could. He’s pretty sure he does, though; he’s just not ready to say it out loud. Or even think it to himself.)

(…He also knows that his family will kill him. That this will break the treaty. That this is an apocalyptic choice, one that will change everything for him, for the Cullens, for Alice, for Bella… it’s been so long since he wanted something  more for himself, wanted someone.)

“Alice.”

His mouth is dry and his heart might be dead, but it feels like it is pounding. It feels like he’s out of breath and he doesn’t even breathe.)

“Alice, can I tell you a secret?”

[badolmen]

WARNING 18+

19

[joshuamj]

Okay, but what if EoW!Zelda had to impersonate Link

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[obsob]

bedtime story with my love !!

[fictionadventurer]

I love libraries.

I'm browsing the WWI shelves (as you do) and notice a very old book about the war. I glance at the first pages that talk about how one day the war will be over and we'll look at this place and not see any signs of the battlefield.

Then it hits me. And I check the publishing date.

This book was printed before the war's end. Not written. Printed. The physical object was created in 1918, while the war in question was raging and the end was as yet uncertain.

Now I'm standing on the other side of the apocalypse, with this physical link to that era in my hands. I'm living proof that the war did end and life did go on and we can all look at the end of the world as a long-ago memory.

Reading old books is cool enough, connecting our minds and hearts through the ideas of people who lived long ago, but there's something extra profound about holding a copy of the book that comes from the time that it was written. It's a physical link between the past and the present connecting me to those long-ago people. A piece of the past come into the future that gives me the chance to almost take the hand of some long-ago reader, to hold something they could have held, connecting not just mentally but physically to their era, a moment of connection across more than a century.

Excuse me while I go weep.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

christ sometimes I just wanna. steal a time machine & go back & sit down next to my 9-year-old self and just like. let them pull out their pokemon card binder & gush about their holographic gyarados or whatever. I'd just smile & ask questions about motherfukcing bulbasaur & tell my kid self that I thought they were a neat person, & someday they'd find other people who thought so too.

like i'm a grown adult who honestly finds most kids stuff boring, but. damn if i could go back & hang out with my baby self & listen to them ramble...just so they knew someone was listening. i would in a heartbeat. thinking about u kid

[cordycepspog]

There’s something horrifyingly beautiful about Tess’s final moments. In the midst of the most dire chaos, as she waits for her death to come rushing past so she can blow it sky high and give cordyceps a big fuck you one last time, one of the infected stops. It looks at her, really looks. Her own mortality is personified in this infected. It’s death that’s looking at her, and it sees her. She looks her own death in the eye, and the suspense is so high as it approaches. But then, it doesn’t bite her throat out like we all expect it to.

It kisses her. What’s more, it kisses her gently. And I think it was a brilliant choice on the writers part, because it reminded me that the infected aren’t supposed to be evil. Sure, they’re scary as hell, but really, they’re just trying to survive. They’re connected to one another, they can feel each other from miles away. They seek out and want to be close to their own kind, just like the human survivors do. And when they do find each other, they kiss hello.

And after so long apart from a loved one, someone you know and trust with every instinct in your body, wouldn’t you want to kiss them too?

[turtleblogatlast]

I love Raph and haven’t said that enough so to be more specific I love that Raph is a soft boy who loves bear plushies, a gross boy who eats an assortment of things that are definitely better left alone, a smart boy who is more than capable of taking down villains through planning and fortitude alike, a strong boy who is dedicated to training his muscles and fighting prowess, a teenage boy who loves his brothers but is more than happy to tease and roughhouse with them, an angry boy who sometimes lets his anger take a hold of him to cover the fear, a gentle boy who is generous with hugs and affirmations to those he loves, a capable boy who takes on more than should ever be expected of a teenager, a good boy who just wants to be a hero and slowly comes to realize the cost of that duty, a good boy who has no reservations about putting himself in the way of harm coming to his family, a good boy who’s a great brother and son and person and deserves only the best the world has to offer.

[uncharted-constellations]

I... Cannot stop

[misstoodles-doodles]

Safe & Sound 💙

I just really wanted someone to give Echo a blanket so why not let it be Rex

Closeups T-T:

Bonus Doodle:

[snoffart]

The kids of Gravity Falls!!

[shevr]

workout mix

[opportunity-strikes]

hey so this is your permission not to improve at your hobbies. you dont gotta do more or try new things with it. you arent obligated. are you happy drawing the same 3/4 profile headshot of your blorbo??? do that. enjoy walking but dont wanna go further than your usual route at your usual pace? dont. enjoy collecting trading cards but dont actually like playing the game? never play the game. like learning the names of birds but dont care about their calls? just learn those names babeeeyyyy.

do what you want as you want and as many times as you want in the ways you want to. i am actually asking you to do this. you dont even need to get better. crush that weird feeling that you need to be doing 'more'. the goal doesnt have to be improvement. it might happen incidentally but like, thats whatever. you can set the goalposts and then just sit by them and enjoy the scenery. if you decide to move them or get up and sit somewhere else thats cool, but you dont gotta. doing things that make you happy is enough