#merry shitscram or something

[daily-emurui-vitamins]

day thirty-two!

today’s emurui vitamin is from the nijiro stories/once upon a dream album art!

[mamawasatesttube]

kon sweetie im so fucking sorry that someone would even say something stupid like that oh my god.

[lori0018]

Here's a couple options for December 2024 pictures of Jeff (instead of the one from 2023 I used before). One holiday themed (I think the photo might be from November but Jeff's insta post is from Dec 4th so I'm counting it). One more neutral of Jeff being a dork waving the old year goodbye.

Jeff Calendar 📆

A Monthly Jeff Calendar for 2025. Each picture is from the same month in '24. (Except December, which is from '23, for obvious reasons 😁 I might update it in a month or so.)

I hope you all enjoy ✨

@halliescomut put this idea in my head and it wouldn't let go so I did it 😅

A HUGE thank you to @arewedoneyet for so promptly and consistently posting all the Jeff pictures from other social media. Going through your blog archive month by month made this a lot easier and faster than it would have otherwise been.

[sepdet]

Merry Shitscram, Tumblr!

(transcript below cut)

Guess what I borrowed from Mom's stacks while visiting?

I won't cap the whole thing, but at least I can provide you with some selected excerpts for the next week. Yes, this IS that edition.

Transcript below.

Chapter One

FOR THE THIRD consecutive night, Captain James T. Kirk awoke with a gasp of surprise and something akin to fear clinging to the side of his throat. He blinked once, then struggled to sit up, leaning against the head of the bed his eyes scanned the dark room. Reality returned and his gaze settled on the chronometer. It was shortly after 3 A.M., Ship Standard Time, but he was wide awake and knew he would have little hope of getting back to sleep before the alarm demanded his attention at six.

Releasing the breath he'd been holding, he replayed the recurring dream in his mind, wondering why it should have disturbed him so deeply . . . and so often.

After discovering no logical explanation for its cause or its unprecedented effect on him, he tried passing it off to the fact that the Enterprise had been on routine patrol of the Romulan Neutral Zone for nearly two months—an inexcusably boring mission. But with Romulan Fleet activity increased for no apparent reason, he accepted the fact that he was bound to be a little edgy.

After another deep breath and a shake of his tousled hair, he slowly lowered himself back into the warm nest of covers,l and closed his eyes; but as expected, he was only pretending to sleep when the First Shift duty alarm sounded less than three hours later.

Stifling a yawn, Kirk entried the Deck 5 turbolift to discover the ship's first officer studying him with a lifted eyebrow.

"Morning, Spock," Kink said with a sheepish grin, wishing he'd taken the time for a cup of coffee before presenting himself publicly.

The Vulcan's head inclined in greeting, "Captain," he said formally. The doors closed and the lift began its familiar horizontal motion, but the Vulcan continued to study his friend. "Is everything all right, Captain?" he inquired presently.

"Just fine, Mister Spock," Kirk replied. "Why do you ask?" He wondered if his eyes were a trifle more red than they'd appeared in the mirror.

The eyebrow climbed higher beneath the long black bangs. "You seem. . . unusually distracted," Spock observed after a questioning moment of silence.

So much for dismissing the matter, Kirk thought. Spock's scrutiny was never escaped easily. "Would you believe me if I told you that the invincible Captain Kirk has insomnia?" he asked with a smile.

"Indeed," Spock murmured. Kirk was normally a very private individual; but now the hazel eyes seemed alight with a combination of embarrassment and mischief. The Vulcan decided not to mention that he himself had been having disturbing dreams for at least a week. "I trust you have not sought relief from Doctor McCoy?"

Kirk shook his head. "For a few hours of lost sleep?" But the twinkle left his eyes as a frown found its way to his face. "I don't know why it should bother me at all," he said, feeling some need to explain himself. "But . . . never mind, Spock," he added as the nocturnal images returned to haunt him. "It was . . . just a dream." Trying to change the subject, the smile returned to his face. "Another human shortcoming, eh, Spock?"

Something in Kirk's too-casual tone caused the Vulcan to look at him more closely. "Would you care to discuss the matter in more detail, Captain?" he asked, momentarily wondering why he didn't dismiss the subject as Kirk was attempting to do. Yet he realized that the captain's normal reservations concerning his personal life did not extend to him, just as he understood that the reverse was also true.

Kirk glanced up from where he'd been studying his boots, and felt the familiar telepathic door swing open between himself and the Vulcan. It was something which had formed between them over the years, something which had saved their lives countless times and made them brothers. He did want to discuss it, but only with Spock.

McCoy would, as the Vulcan was fond of pointing out, dispense a handful of pills and an hour of friendly advice; and though Kirk valued the doctor's friendship, he wasn't in the mood for a full battery of psychological tests to determine the cause of a simple recurring dream. He chanced a quick look at the Vulcan as a plan of action took shape in his mind.

"I haven't had breakfast yet," he began, finding an excuse he needed. "But . . . I'm sure you have, Mister Spock. After all," he continued with a broadening grin, "Vulcans never ever miss breakfast, right? You have to keep those thought-wheels well oiled and in perfect working order." He studied his first officer's lean frame. "And you never gain an ounce either!" he added with a look of mock-disgust, remembering Mc-Coy's warnings to cut back on the meat and potatoes and settle for a salad once in awhile.

The Vulcan brow lowered as Spock observed his captain's nonchalant approach. "I have not eaten this morning," he stated in straightforward contrast to Kirk's roundabout endeavors, "and I would be pleased to join you." His eyes seemed to lighten as he studied the casual way Kirk was holding in his stomach. "And we need not inform Doctor McCoy as to the menu."

—•—

(Next Time: Our lads discuss nightmares over breakfast and discover they are on the same wavelength, as usual.)

[See tag Killing Time Excerpts for more!]

[batshit-auspol]

merry shitscram auspol batshitter, I thought you would like to know that just now while watching Muppets Christmas Carol, Scrooge said "who was the most wretched man whose death brought about joy" or something like that, and my dad (who has been in a half-asleep food coma for 90% of the movie) opened his eyes to blurt out "Scott Morrison" with a fervour like he was going to win $1000 with the correct answer

It's good to know that at least once a year, all Australians can put aside their differences, sit down together and agree that Scott Morrison is a fuckhead

[goddesstrolls]

"KINGFISHER"

Hi merry shitscram here's something completely unrelated.

He's $130 USD. I'm willing to do a payment plan with trusted clients (which is most people in the FTC lbr) and the buyer will get 20% off future commissions of this character. I might also throw in a bust sketch or something as a courtesy.

Boosts are appreciated! I worked really hard on this and I'd like to get it outside of my usual circle.

Link to purchase!

[sebbiesolace]

peace out, this acc is dead now or something.

Okay, so to be clear, ion dislike any of y'all, but I shouldn't be getting asks abt the devs, specifically Zerum, i stg its always asks abt her, when its.. a rule to not ask abt it. Y'all are strange. Its a fictional character, she can selfship, I can make an insane AU. I've pretty much.. entirely lost interest in Pressure atp. The community is genuinely, veritably annoying, to the point of harassing a bunch of nobodies on the web. I don't play Pressure anymore, I don't have any interest at all, and it is entirely bc just... The devs and the community could not interact normally. Strange to see. In theory it's a fun game, it's just... I don't have any want to play it anymore. Lost interest. Anyways, y'all take care or something, I'm outta here. Merry shitscram

[boatswainscall]

There's still some year left to get through but I'm going to call it anyway, for reasons I'll get into.

2024 started as bad as any other year for me. Since 2013 I've been consistently Having A Bad Time, across pretty much all fronts but especially mental health. Christmas and my biological birthday especially are hard on me, specifically because of a loss in my family in - you guessed it - 2013. So the arrival of the holidays is always an inevitable sharp decline, usually ending at rock bottom just in time for New Year's.

Make no mistake, I have happy memories from those 11 years, but what little else I do recall from that time are a monochrome grey sludge, the rest lost to depression and PTSD memory gaps. I turned 18 at some point, then 21, 24, whatever else, all supposed cultural milestones that are now lost to the fog forever.

2020 for sure led to things getting even worse, for reasons I don't feel the need to state. Things really were starting to improve for me in 2019, but the start of the Covid lockdown caused whatever progress I had made to give up the ghost. And I had kind of started to accept by the time 2024 rolled around that this was my new normal. Therapy is borderline impossible for me to obtain due to the desiccated state of mental healthcare services where I live, and the pandemic led me to developing acute agoraphobia. This was just how things were going to be.

Until May, where something changed.

I joined a community Discord server for Canadian players of FFXIV, and though the change was gradual, it was expansive. My walls started to come down. The dread that normally haunted me every morning as I woke up started to abate. I made friends there first, then more elsewhere as I started to get comfortable with socializing with strangers again. I stopped having full five-alarm BPD meltdowns every week on the dot. I stopped having RSD flare ups over the stupidest fucking shit imaginable. In all, my mental health improved in a way that was unprecedented for me.

In all I can legitimately say I've made more friends in the past seven months than I have over the course of my entire life combined. Real friends, too. Some casual acquaintances sure, but people I care about and who care about me all the same. People who don't belittle me or treat me as an afterthought. People who - and this was the biggest shock to my system that I still have not fully adjusted to - actually want to talk to and hang out with me because they sincerely enjoy my company.

And for the first time in over a decade, it's Christmas Eve and I am not suicidally depressed. I feel the opposite, in fact. And I know it's a direct result from breaking free from my own self-imposed isolation, and filling my life with connections that beat back the brain demons. Humans are social creatures after all, no matter how introverted we may be on an individual basis. Something I had to learn about myself the hard way and have only grasped the scale of recently.

I don't have anything poignant to say about it all, and I know the world is still on fire outside of my own little bubble. But in those seven months I've also taken strides alongside these new connections I've made to better my own habits in regards to constant doom scrolling. To remind myself that there is change I can make at the micro and personal level to improve not only my own life, but the lives of those around me that I care for. Even if its small and stupid things, it still makes a difference to those people, if even briefly. I'm going to look into doing work in my local community too at some point in 2025 - I don't know what exactly yet, but I know I want to do something.

Merry Shitscram and here's to better years ahead.

[hellsite-detective]

A small figure reaches up to place a picture of their request on your desk. Taking a look at it, it appears to be a drawing of a strange arrangement of kids' toys (the box ones, with letters depicted on the sides) spelling out... merry shitscram?

You peer over the desk at what you had initially assumed to be a child, to find something even smaller, and much stranger. It stands on a small stool and (despite standing directly in what little streams of light get let into your office) is shrouded entirely in darkness; as if shadows were its skin. You think, if the two of you were to stand side-by-side, the doll would come up maybe to your knees.

Despite its definite cryptidness, you get the distinct impression that it wants help - the eyes, which might have usually been off-putting in the not-quite-glowing white, reminded you of the wet eyes of a begging puppy.

...You get the confirmation of its desire when, after a few moments of mutual staring, it reaches up to tap the picture again. A small voice chimes in your mind, quiet but defined enough to separate from your usual thoughts.

(A post came across my dashboard a week or so ago where someone rearranged some letter box toys from spelling "MERRY CHRISTMAS" into "MERRY SHITSCRAM", but I can't find it anymore-- I'd love to give more detail, but the picture is really all I can recall... I hope that's enough! Love what you do and thank you!)

...Well, a fiend in need is still a customer, you suppose.

a strange little void creature came into my office lookin' for a post. now, void cryptids ain't somethin' i'm particularly unfamiliar with. i'm quite close with Madame Curator, after all. what was catchin' me off guard about this little doll was its size. i hadn't seen anything quite like this in my experience, but i wasn't about to question what i didn't understand. no, i was here to help the poor creature.

this post was handed to me by a void cryptid. and coincidentally it was gonna be solved by a void cryptid. because to find this post, all i needed to do was snoop around in @hellsite-hall-of-fame's archive. it didn't take much lookin' to find this post, which she only recently hung up in honor of the holidays.

here you are, little friend! i hope you enjoy your post! it's quite a classic, i gotta say. have a great day!

Post Case: Closed

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

Interdimensional Mail Incoming

That's the only warning Butch gets before a portal opens up and a pristinely wrapped package shoots through at him. Shortly after, Crowley tumbles out onto the dirt, "Merry Shitscram! I hope you don't mind homemade gifts!!"

Inside the parcel appears to be a rope... Oh but not ANY rope! Despite its small size, it has a leather handle on it, the butt end donning a gold medallion that's been engraved with a cowboy hat featuring horns. There's a button on the side that, if Butch were to choose to press and gesture out with, would extend the steel beaded whip to its full length!

"Figured you'd like some extra firepower out here in the Wild West! It's nonlethal damage, but hurts like a *bitch!* Anyhoozles! Feliz Navidad, amigo!"

Gifts! // @save-slot-a

The cowboy stiffens up just before he pulls the trigger on his gun the moment he hears it. He had been practicing to keep his skills sharp! He looks all around before a wrapped gift box comes from seemingly out of nowhere and smacks him in the face, causing him to drop his weapon.

“ACK!! What th—“ He’s quick enough to catch the box when it falls from his face and all becomes clear to him when he hears something tumbling into the dirt behind him followed by a familiar voice. He swings around to find…Crowley! And his expression immediately lights up.

“Crowley, y’sun’f a gun! Y’scared th’ daylights outta me!” Butch laughs, beaming brightly. “Handmade? Those’re my favorite!” With that, he eagerly begins to shred the gift box and what he finds makes his eyes grow somewhat wide.

He holds it in his hand, running his fingers over the leather handle and then the medallion with intrigue and that’s when he notices the button on the side. “Crowley, y’ain’t had t’go an’ put somethin’ t’gether fer—“ CRACK! With the press of a button and a swing of his arm, he quickly finds out what else his new gift is capable of and surprise takes up his face. Then, it grows brighter than before!

“Bahah! I’ll take all th’ firepower I can get, baby! Thanks, Crowls—I love it! I can’t wait t’get some practice in with this baby!” He’s bouncing on his heels already.

[amplexadversary]

fucking a my lighting.

Anyway, the dragon is curled about some pretty rocks I have. Also, my bookshelf. I really need another one when I have the space.

Admittedly, I'm cheating a little, since most of the things in this picture I got for myself using holiday money from a while back that I'd been too depressed to spend at the time. (All the gundams and the cat plushie are teeeeechnically from my mom, from two years ago, in that case, though most of them I'd been waiting on a reprint of that came out this year. I was able to get a *lot* of gunpla because I got them on discount, and then just didn't open the packages until today.)

I was not the one to buy the hemostats and the insect pins (hobby purposes), the video games, the candy, or the little dragon. Which.

LOOK at this dragon. It's delightful. It's articulated the whole way down so you can curl it around and over things. Apparently it's a 3D-printed toy my grandmother purchased at an art fair.

[cosmorom]

merry shitscram of something

[littlewalken]

Dec 25 Merry Shitscram

If December 1963 (Oh What A Night) is stuck in my head it can be stuck in yours too. Look it up yourselves.

Going to open the Re Ment when my usual morning routine is done. Right now the undiagnosed girls don't have ADHD-Autism likes its usual morning routine as it's something we can control in our current situation.

Like predicting our next contact with the peoples about the one 55+ complex will be telling us it's put off for another 2 years. Fuck yeah we're looking at other places but who the hell is going to be thinking about that during Liminal Week?

Don't worry, Satan, I'll be outliving my enemies. I have to get a Nice Place To Live so I can post it on a particular social media and shove it up the ass of some relatives.

I jsut get tired of having to be stronger than I think some times.

Sometimes all it be is getting up in the morning and reminding myself the bitch don't live here.

Did have some creative thoughts and actions. I drew 2-3 times in the little sketch book I keep with the reference pictures, if I use that one up I can move to one with bigger pages, and had some thoughts about a sort of fan fiction I created for Pet Shop Boys.

Queen Neil is a creature that runs on pure spite

We're not ready for the cat/dog distribution system, having a mammal at this time would be irresponsible, but I could sure use to get some kitty purrs or the complete and utter I just met you and I love you of a puptato right now.

*No secret set but dolls sized art supplies are doll sized art supplies.

[fairykukla]

My sister in law tells me I need to record a Christmas album.

She's not wrong, and apparently that household has a good microphone, so maybe I should give it a go.

I have several songs I could do. My set list would be something like this.

The Nice List:

Silent Night/Peace Peace: my choir performed this one in high school and I love busting it out for caroling parties. The "Peace, Peace" descant is fun to sing and showcases my voice well.

Oh Holy Night: assuming I don't break down crying halfway through.

God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kings: I finally got to do this with my two friends who recruited me for their church choir a few years ago. Our take on the Barenaked Ladies medley with Sarah McLaughlin.

Coventry Carol: assuming my pianist doesn't break down crying.

Do You Hear What I Hear? There's a specific arrangement that I want to do with a full quartet or even chorus.

The Naughty List:

Santa Baby: where I sing as an oversexed cougar, and Santa does spoken word commentary about how I'm still on the Naughty List.

Baby It's Cold Outside: no, for real. I have a version of this that will SLAY. I might even put it on the "Nice" list.

(and now I'm composing, "Santa it's cold outside" and I'm going directly to hell.)

Carol of the Seat Belts: I'm working on this one. A SATB Quartet representing Mom, Dad, and two siblings trying to get out the door and into the car to go somewhere for Christmas.

Do You Hear What I Hear: shorter take of the Nice arrangement. It's a scream.

The Shickle Carols: Throw The Yule Log On, Uncle John (or, Punctuation Is Important) and Good King Kong.

Its Beginning To Look A Lot Like Shitscram: I had better get this Tumblr meme parody Carol in the bag before someone else beats me to it.

O Holy Night: heh. Heheheheh. The South Park Cartman version complete with cattle prod.

The Christmas Song (Or, Punctuation is Still Important.) From roasting Jack Frost on an open fire to improbable reindeer hobbies (Reindeer really know how to fly, and sew) this song is about pauses, misheard lyrics, and drunk Santa. (They know that Santa's on his way; he's loaded.)

Yep. I need to record a Christmas album. Look for it next year, or in funny videos in the meantime.

[fxxlshitty]

It just hit me... I have detached myself so much from everyone (who already didn't care), that I am now just... There.