#not in the tumblrino sense

[dykeredhood]

And that’s the fucking thing with being a ballerina for literal years… I have such mincing delicate affectations with how I move around that it’s difficult for me come off as badass

[snoopybutch]

You could strap me down torture-style and feed me the detailed information for how record players work I’m just dying. It does not permeate the blood brain barrier my man. I’ve had ppl try to explain it. What are you saying???????? MUSIC happens bc a needle and a niche are a-touching? Nah.

[0rb0t]

I keep forgetting what I named the zelda channel in my server and it keeps taking me out like a well placed gut punch

[mmmmmmky]

Oh not again now the trains gone and left, and the City's too far to walk to the end

Oh no tumblrino 2. What will the minimum wage backstreets office employee do now? I think a bus. Fixer run bus system. Alternatively, maybe there will 100% be a niche to be filled in if the trains are gone, so a wing run public transport system can start bustling. Assuming w corp fell (I really have no idea what this ask means and is getting at but I appreciate it deeply) t corp would probably also go soon after seeing how they are linked a fair bit. So therfore I think 7 months after the gap will be filled with Trolley Corp with trolleys that run based off of human emotion (you need significant despair to power a trolley)(but it commutes impossibly efficiently) and Waypoint Corp with waypoints for places you've been before (of significance enough to warrant one placed there) (there is no explanation for this one).

I don't know why I did this. It is entirely likely I missed the point of the ask entirely. I am literally just yapping for yapping sake and not making sense lmao.

[just-mushroom-thoughts]

Ten years ago the world changed.

Cities grew from nowhere enveloping countries, and the continents grew together.

Every living thing was twisted and changed by their city, and it took weeks to figure out what determined which city would claim you.

Social media

Social media decided, more specifically which social media platform you used the most, whether you were a tumblrina or a facebook user, a redditor or twitter user, and people couldn't change their nature, so they settled in to their cities, and followed their leaders rules.

But eventually the leader of tumblr changed, and brought a rule banning public indecency and harshening punishments on it.

So tumblrinas fled.

Saught amnesty in twitter and facebook, and to a lesser extent reddit.

Tumblr and twitter have been at war sense.

Years passed, people grew and changed,

And so did leaders.

Musk gained power in twitter and started forcing mad changes in his tyranny, and the twitter users fled.

They saught amnesty in their old home of tumblr, but weren't met with the welcome arms they expected, no they were met with anger and disgust at their previous betrayal.

They settled in eventually but there remains some hate, when a new issue arised.

Reddits beating heart was shut down by the leader, and the heads of many of its looping cul-de-sacs and sub(reddits)berbs were fleeing, along with their members, they fled to one of reddits first enemies.

Tumblr.

The ex-twits were expecting a similar reaction to when they saught amnesty, names and derision.

But no.

Redditors were welcomed openly, and guided with kindness, for rather than having been ex-tumblrinos who saught return like Twitter, they were those of similar mind to those already here.

They were warned of the bot incursions and to keep their icons, odd masks that hid who they were, from the default, and to interact and not just linger as they were used.

The redditors acclimated well and fast to the change, taking naturally to tumblrs streets as though there own.

Pt 2? If you want? Maybe

[remzarci]

Welcome to Tumblr pt...I don't fuckin' know...4?

Here's what you need to know!

Your follower count doesn't matter too much. you could have several hundred followers and see at most one or two of em like or reblog your stuff

Reblogs are the equivalent of retweets. Reblogs are also how a post gets AROUND. Reblogs appear on your dash and anyone who fallows you will see those reblogs! You are encouraged to reblog

we don't have a language filter and frankly we don't really care if you say the Fuck-Word or the Die-Word! You also don't need filter yourself! so go ahead swear like the god damned fucking sailor you are you little fucking shit! We won't tell!

We...Have a Bot Problem that comes and goes...And they've adapted! no longer do they name themselves nonsense and have the default icons, they now have tumblrina/tumblrino sounding usernames and AI generated icons! however their content is either non existent or pornographic/Scammy. in the sense they either have straight up porn videos or "Giveaways" linking you to off site "services"...These range to either credit card theft scams or cypto miners.Staff encourages that you report these blogs!

By joining this Hell Circus you are a Clown...Don't deny it, embrace it!

[virgil-writes]

my game got borked and I can’t hop in and check, so I ask you this question, fellow tumblrinos: how the fuck does Heisenberg get out of the factory and into the village?

the way Ethan gets in is through the chalice elevator, which leads to a door that leads to the bridge. cool. does that mean Heisenberg has to cross the bridge and then climb up then walk to the altar and down the path to the village? he doesn’t strike me as a dude who’d be up for doing... any of that really. I was under the impression the factory is kind of on a separate bit of land, so there’d be no access through the forest, but I can’t go in game to check.

we get the sense that he’s a recluse, but he bumps into Ethan as he was trying to make his way into Castle Dimitrescu, which tells me maybe they all had a meeting scheduled? idk. Ethan is taken to the mines, where the little ‘let’s turn Ethan into ground beef’ thing happens. why is there a church within the mines?? don’t know man, but

maybe there are underground pathways from the factory to the village? there are caves/a mine near the reservoir, so maybe they run all the way through? Miranda mentions a cave where she found the megamycete. is it all part of a huge cave complex? but then again, wouldn’t it be easy to find the megamycete if that was the case?

I’m losing track here but the question is: how does Heisenberg get out of the factory without going through so many loops? I might have missed something within the game, and would love to hear people’s thoughts!

[no-name-necessarily]

Honk, Honk. Trying this again because Tumblrino decided that deleting my entire theory would be A Grand Slam of a cool idea.

So basically, there's a theory that Virgy Wirgy lied about his namey wamey. I think it's an interesting concept but with no true motive. And in a mis-quote of Miles Edgeworth himself "you need a motive, right?"

Motive 1: Not wanting the other sides to know that he's a Dark Side

-This makes sense any way you slice it, generally speaking

-was he too anxious, trying to double cross them, or just not the biggest fan of the darky warky-ies (I'll stop now)

-the problem here is that the light sides seem to have an idea that Virgil was a dark side (see: Roman commenting that Virgil wasn't as bad as The Others)

Motive 2: Virgil just didn't feel like his original name fit him anymore

-to be fair he did get redemptioned

-plus even without that he could have just. Stopped liking whatever it was previously.

Motive 3: There is no motive

-the sides get to choose their names and Virgil doesn't Do the fitting in thing

Note: I was going to add a read more thing but instead I'm making people scroll all the way past this post bc Tumble is r00d.

Honk, Honk.

[blackcatanna]

Phoenix Wright: Rise from the Ashes OPINIONS

Greetings, Tumblrinos! I have FINALLY aquired the original Ace Attorney trilogy on PC and have just finished the first game. I didn’t have any issues with the first four cases BUT I have a lot of UNANSWERED QUESTIONS about the fifth case, which was not in the original game. There were many things I loved about it (it gave me so much delicious evidence to play with) but I feel like its long, complicated plot had a few more HOLES than I like to see in a game all about finding contradictions and I have to SHOUT MY QUESTIONS/OPINIONS TO THE GREAT TUMBLR VOID so heeeeere we go! :D SPOILERS (duh)!!!

NUMBER ONE: WHY did Gant MURDER NEIL MARSHALL?!??!?

This is never addressed in the game, which I found very odd. This case is, I think, the longest in the main series and yet it ended SO SUDDENLY?!? Gant admitted how he killed Goodman to stop him reopening the case but he never gave a motive for killing poor Marshall AND SO I am left to speculate.

Of course, we know that Gant wanted to control the prosecuters and so it’s reasonable to think that he did it purely to frame Ema and thus get Lana under his thumb. However, he states that his motive for collecting evidence against Ema was simply “insurance” in case the case was examined too closely...? Is he lying? He might lie in order to distance himself from Lana and Goodman’s murder but then he goes and confesses anyway so why would he bother to do that?

Okay, so, murdering Neil worked out pretty well for Gant. He was promoted, Lana was promoted and he had leverage over Lana AND SO it looks like Gant purely wanted to frame Ema and that’s why he killed Neil. HOWEVER, this is still WEIRD AF. 

Okay, so, in order for this to be EVEN REMOTELY PLAUSIBLE, Gant would have to be on the extreme end of murderous psychopathy. To murder your colleague who’s UNCONSCIOUS is just... It’s insane behaviour. He killed Goodman because Goodman was a threat. Marshall was just... THERE. ALSO, he’s have to be a huge hypocrite! Gant says that he did everything because he hates criminals and wants to catch them, no matter what AND YET HE LIFTS UP AN UNCONSCIOUS MAN, IMPALES HIM ON A SWORD AND PATS HIMSELF ON THE BACK FOR CONVICTING DARKE?!?! AND HE SEES NO ISSUES HERE?!?! 

Furthermore, I don’t think that any of this was necessary to convict Darke. Lana seems to think so but it looks like Marshall and Gant had pretty much cracked Darke when he made a run for it. Lana wasn’t there for the interrogation. Not sure how relevant Darke is to Gant’s motivation but it’s interesting that it’s thrown into the MOTIVATION SOUP that we’re presented with.

Therefore, it appears that Gant killed Neil because he believed that it was for the greater good: by controlling both the police and the prosecutors, he would be able to ensure that those he deemed to be guilty would be punished. Fair enough. 

Okay, so, Gant and Lana are about to crack the case. Gant states that he’s already up for his dream job. If they succeed, Lana will be able to become Head Prosecutor. SO all that Gant needs is leverage over Lana. BUT SURELY, she already admires and respects him. They’ve been partners for years. They’ve cracked many cases together. They are the dream team! Pretty sure they even have a name in game like “Dynamic Duo” or something... “Legendary Duo”, thank you, Google. Presumably, Lana trusts Gant. He could give her forged evidence or omit things and she would most likely use it without ever knowing, much like Miles Edgeworth did. 

SO, if Gant hadn’t killed Neil and framed Ema/Darke, Lana would most likely still be Queen Prosecutor and would trust Gant. So, not only did he take a HUGE RISK killing Neil (MORE ON THAT LATER), he also jeopardised the valuable relationship of trust between himself and Lana, replacing it with BLACKMAIL. Perhaps, blackmail might seem like a more solid bond to someone as TWISTED as Gant BUT there are two problems with this blackmail.

FIRSTLY, there is the possibility that the person being blackmailed will SNAP. This doesn’t seem to be a huge risk with Lana. SECONDLY, this blackmail is based on LIES. It potentially becomes USELESS if someone figures out that Ema is not responsible so he’d have to believe that he’d left no traces (so I guess we can add HUBRIS to his list of character flaws). Oh, and this brings up another problem. In order to follow through on his threats to Lana, he’d have to admit that he covered up the truth in the first place! 

Okay, so I have decided that killing Neil didn’t accomplish that much of a REWARD for Gant so let’s look at the RISK. He PICKED UP an unconscious, fully grown man without disturbing the other two unconscious people in the room or Neil himself. The building was full of people for the award ceremony, presumably. To be fair, it took place in Gant’s office and so it’s unlikely that anyone else would walk in but the office had massive windows! 

Although unlikely, the possibilty of someone else witnessing Gant’s murder definitely existed. Furthermore, there was the more likely possibility of someone IN THE ROOM regaining consciousness and catching him in the act. Darke had hit his head, but Ema had merely fainted and I can’t believe that Marshall never regained consciousness while someone cut out a segment from his waistcoat, PICKED HIM UP and SKEWERED HIM ON A SPIKE. I mean, c’mon. Even if you agree that it’s possible that he didn’t get woken up by being impaled, how would Gant be so sure that this wouldn’t happen. 

The more I talk about this, the more questions I have but I MUST SAVE THEM FOR NOW. 

Okay, so Gant walks into the room, sees three unconscious people and thinks, “Gee! I could totally do a murder right now and frame one of these people, tee-hee. OMG if I make it look like Ema did it, Lana will TOTALLY have to do what I say, like, for EVER.” So, Gant does a murder and tries to cover it up but leaves A FRIGGIN’ HUGE OBVIOUS TRAIL BEHIND HIM THAT ANY IDIOT COULD SPOT, HOLY COW. IN FACT, WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THAT NOW. 

WHY DID NOBODY QUESTION THAT THERE WAS A SQUARE CUT OUT OF MARSHALL’S WAISTCOAT??! THIS IS SO OBVIOSLY HIDING EVIDENCE!!! LANA EVEN HAD A PHOTO OF HIM WITH THE SQUARE MISSING AND A PHOTO OF HIM TAKEN MINUTES BEFORE WITH AN INTACT WAISTCOAT!!! NOBODY THOUGHT TO POINT THIS OUT?!?!?

WHY THE FLYING FUCK WOULD MARSHALL WRITE EMA’S NAME ON THE WOBBLY VASE?!?! This particular piece of evidence didn’t come to light until the current trial but it’s just so stupid! Obviously, Ema didn’t try to kill Marshall. It was an accident. Why would Marshall think, “I must not let this demon child get away with this heinous crime!” and use his last strength to do this nonsense. Furthermore, HE WAS IMPALED ON A SWORD. HE COULDN’T HAVE REACHED THE VASE. HE WAS TOTALLY SKEWERED. 

Speaking of that ugly-ass vase, did none of this top notch investigation team try and piece it together? Presumably, they did. That would bring up the question of the missing piece. Gant, you idiot! No wonder all of the investigators were suspicious. 

I guess that Gant thought he was untouchable and could just shut anything down with his authority but he made such a mess of everything that he was caught out by many people and eventually had to resort to  the ol’ Stabby Stabby just to shut people up. Gant’s supposed to be this brilliant person but he just comes across as an idiot with a TERRIBLE personality. I feel like a lot of Ace Attorney villains slip up because they’re in positions of power and think that they’re untouchable but I think that this is the stupidest one I’ve encountered so far. 

Okay, so, ASTONISHINGLY, Gant’s plan works. He gets away with THE MURDER and now it’s time for some sweet, sweet blackmail... He tells Lana that Ema will be convicted of murder if the truth gets out. Wait, WHAT??!?! HOW!? IN WHAT UNIVERSE COULD EMA BE SEEN TO BE GUILTY OF MURDER. Manslaughter, perhaps but she was acting in self defense! She pushed a guy wielding a knife. I DO NOT BUY THIS AT ALL. It seems likely to me that Lana would still co-operate because she was afraid of letting Ema know that she was responsible for Neil’s death but that seems to me to be the extent of the hold he has over Lana. Lana claims to have sold her soul for this. Does she believe that it’s worth it to spare her sister from the truth? Perhaps.

SO, IN SUMMARY, in order for this to be any kind of plausible, Gant has to be EXTREMELY SOCIOPATHIC, HUBRISTIC, HYPOCRITICAL and brimming with, my favourite, UNFATHOMABLE STUPIDITY! The UNFATHOMABLE STUPIDITY is what I have the biggest problem with. He is supposed to be SMART and CAPABLE. So are the rest of the team assigned to the serial killer case. I just, ugh... It doesn’t make sense... 

NUMBER 2 (finally): WHERE’S THE BLOOD, BITCH?

Why is there so much blood by Lana’s desk in Gant’s office? Neil died on the other side of the room AND YET there is no trace of blood to be found there! I sprayed the HECK out of that suit of armour and there was NOTHING. If Neil was skewered there, he would, PRESUMABLY have bled A LOT. Also when they UN-SKEWERED HIM. In fact, we know that he was coughing up LOADS OF BLOOD while he was skewered, thanks to Lana’s photo. SO, WHY. IS. THERE. NO. BLOOD. THERE. Presumably, Gant had the office thoroughly cleaned in the TWO YEARS since the incident but, then, why can I still see blood in Lana’s half? And surely there would have been blood traces there two years ago when this, ALLEGEDLY, UBER-COMPETANT TEAM investigated? 

Number 3: WHY THE EVERLOVING FLYING FUCK did the police decide that Goodman had been MURDERED in the evidence room?!??!

What did the police find to lead them to believe that a murder had been committed?!? They had a video showing someone dressed like Goodman entering the evidence room, followed by that annoying af megaphone guy, who got beaten up, cut on the hand and knocked unconscious. THAT’S NOT A MURDER. NOBODY DIED. THERE WAS NOTHING TO INDICATE THAT A MURDER HAD TAKEN PLACE! WHY WOULD THEY REPORT IT AS A MURDER, LET ALONE GOODMAN’S MURDER!!?!? THIS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE!?! 

Furthermore, WHY WOULD THEY HAVE MEEKUMS DELIVER THE REPORT TO EDGEY BOY WHEN HE WAS THE ONE THEY SOMEHOW DECIDED WAS THE MURDERER?!?!? At the time, I thought that Gant sent Meekums or whatever his name was (cba to look it up because he was SO ANNOYING) because he knew that Edgeworth would ignore him because he was so annoying and he’d be able to make Edgeworth look bad in court later. But, seriously, what was even in that file? There was no murder!!! If Gant was trying to throw us off, why would he draw our attention to the evidence room and the two-year-old case?!? Whyyyyyyyy!?!?

Tbh, I have no explanation for any of this. IT DOES. NOT. COMPUTE. 

THING THE FOURTH: Why was Lana’s hand not bleeding in Angel’s photo?

Lana says that she cut her hand because she was shaking while stabbing Goodman’s corpse. YET, Angel’s photo VERY CLEARLY shows her without any injury. Angel ran down to the car park because she saw Lana stabbing Goodman. Therefore, by the time Angel took the photo, Lana must have already stabbed the guy. Also, Angel states that she saw Lana stab Goodman repeatedly and that she was wearing a muffler. So, the stabbity stabbity must have happened before the photo was taken. 

Question the Fifth: Who the Hell calls an exhaust pipe a “muffler”?!?!

Well, I just googled it and it’s something that reduces noise coming from the exhaust pipe. Yay learning!

Question the Sixth: Why did the cameras not catch Gant giving Goodman the old stabby stabby? 

Presumably, Gant erased the footage immediately after exiting the room but this was never addressed, for some reason. I guess it was already a long af case but I like details, dammit!

7: How did Gant clean up so quickly?!?

Bruce Goodman died of bloodloss. That’s A LOT of blood to clean up! He summoned Edgeworth to the room to collect the screwdriver only 20 minutes after he himself first entered the evidence room with Goodman. In those twenty minutes, he must have had the fight with Goodman, waited for him to stop bleeding, moved the body, stuffed it into Edgeworth’s trunk, found cleaning products, mopped up ALL THE BLOOD from a guy who DIED OF BLOODLOSS, hiden whatever it was that soaked up the blood (slorp), erased the video footage and somehow not got ANY BLOOD on himself and WASN’T SEEN by ANYONE stuffing a body into a car ON THE DAY OF DATA TRANSFERENCE!?!? HOW?!

8: Seriously, how many identical white detective coats are there?!?!

Marshall wears one to impersonate Goodman, Goodman is wearing one when he is MURDERED, Lana is wearing one in Angel’s photo and, weirdly, it has a bloodstain on it in the same place that Marshall’s one does. However, we can still see Marshall’s costume coat sticking out of his locker. WEIRD. 

SO YEAH

This concludes my list of puzzling things in this episode! There are probably more random things that I’ve forgotten but, in that case, they can’t be bugging me too much. What really IRKS me is the question of the “murder” in the evidence room and how UNFATHOMABLY STUPID everyone, especially Gant was 2 years ago. These two things just make the episode feel a bit incomplete to me. I admire the ambition of this episode but I feel like some things slipped through the cracks and left my brain aching for the wrong reasons.

[frangipanidownunder]

Times Fox Mulder Cried: fic series

I wrote these vignettes when I was a baby Tumblrino with no followers. I will be writing an eleventh one shortly, just to round off the series - I can’t leave it dangling! Sorry if you’ve already read these - feel free to scroll on by. 

Tagging @today-in-fic which wasn’t around back then.

Season One

When she finally closed the door to his apartment and he strained to listen to her footfalls in the passage – twenty-seven measured, confident paces before a truck blared past his half-open window – he fell back against the arm of the couch. She’d laid his Aztec blanket over him and placed a pillow under his aching head. He’d accepted her concern, her medical ministrations, her school-marm tutting and head-shaking; but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept her sympathy.

As she’d picked up his hand in hers, impossibly small and warm, he knew she had been ready to deliver some grand speech about how she’d revise her field report to accommodate a more acceptable version of events. He could see it in her eyes, the tiny lines that knotted between her brows; hear it in the way she quietly cleared her throat; saw it in the way she licked her lips. He pulled his hand away and she’d huffed out a quiet sigh of defeat.

He rubbed his face with his hand. His entire head felt numb. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing flashes; the searing light in his eye, faces of military men leaning over him, a needle, fighting a mask. Judging by the tautness in his body, it wasn’t just his mind that held on to abject fear. But what was he frightened of? Certainly not the truth. Not of little green men. Not of the government and its lies. He’d gone to Ellens to find the answers. He shivered violently. Shock, she’d said. He needed fluids, rest and warmth.

When they first got back she’d tended to him like a patient, not a partner. That had hurt a little. He thought they had made some progress since that first case in Oregon, thought he’d cracked her shell, could begin to bend her to his way of seeing things. When she was taking his temperature, he wanted to rip off the cool wet cloth from his forehead and yell at her. In his mind he was reciting the words he would say: “Scully, back at Bellefleur you bared yourself to me, literally. And I bared myself to you, emotionally. Why are you doing your doctor thing now? Why can’t you just be my partner? Why can’t you just…” He would have added, “believe me” but her clinical manner told him it was a stretch too far. She had a report to file. He had the good sense to stay quite.

And now she had left him alone. He was physically incapable of telling her what had happened inside that base. Mentally incapable of understanding what had happened. Emotionally incapable of asking her to stay with him tonight.

He realised at the stroke of midnight what it was that he was afraid of. A fine sheen of sweat shimmered over his arms and chest as the low moon filtered through the Venetian slats. His heart thudded. His breath skittered out of his dry mouth. He was frightened that he was never going to be able to prove he was right. He wasn’t worried about proving it to the top brass, to the public, not even to himself. He was frightened that he would never be able to prove he was right to her.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and realised that while he still couldn’t remember, he could feel again.

[startwreck]

Time is a social construct, years are arbitrarily defined, and this past trip around the sun has been a rough one for the world, but it’s brought me a lot of unexpected goodness that I’m grateful for, and seeing as how I have this little corner of The Internetz to partially thank for some of that goodness, I’d like to take a minute to say thanks to all those who have contributed to this goodness and growth this year (that means all of you!) and wish you all the best in 2018. I look forward to celebrating 25 years of The X-Files with all of you.

Some more mushiness / personal fandom-adjacent reflection on 2017 below the cut.

As I was designing my holiday card with photo highlights of my year, I was struck by the amount of fandom friends that made appearances.  We may have met because of a silly TV show, but we’ve also discussed the state of the world, our hopes and our fears, mourned together, and celebrate each others successes. You are all amazing and give me so much hope. Thank you for letting me into your lives.

I was lucky enough to enjoy four major fandom or fandom-adjacent events in 2017, many alongside some of the aforementioned amazing people, that were personal highlights of the year (fandom-adjacent or not.) Here they are (in chronological order):

1) In February, I had my first Phile Tumblrinos IRL experience at Duchovny’s book signing and then -- oops -- I got peer pressured into going to his concert and sneaking onto the floor. @damselindistressmya​, @snowvitamins​, @stellagibsonisalifeforce​, you are the real MVPs. See tag: february 22 2017.

2) In April, I went on an epic adventure to Vancouver that included pilgrimages to various X Files filming locations. While it was my first big solo trip (which I absolutely loved), @thethirstisoutthere​ helped immensely in my planning, and sharing it with my pocket pals was integral to my enjoyment of it (and provided the genesis of a WhatsApp group that has survived the test of time!)  This week was probably simultaneously my highlight and lowlight of 2017, as I was also grieving a family member’s passing, but my pocket pals were there through it all. It was then that I knew I had found a special group. See tag: puppet mulder does van.

3) In September, I flew ~3k miles west to meet people who live ~3k miles east of me (and others, and I promise it makes some sense in context, but I like phrasing it like this.) Thank for a near-perfect day, @crossedbeams​, @dangerscully,​ @kateyes224,​ @2moms-0fucks​, @defnotmeyo​ (and Hannah and tree guy.) See tag: sunscreen and regret.

4) In October, I went to NYCC, and, assisted by @damselindistressmya​, asked a question in front of 3k people that somehow resulted in Bad Blood-style retelling of the bear encounter, perhaps proving once at for all that nobody knows WTF happens on the set of The X-Files, least of all the people making it. I also managed to not pass out when Puppet Mulder met his muse. See tag: xf at nycc.

I’m still very much in awe that I got to do all these things and meet so many great people both virtually and IRL. Here’s to continued adventures in 2018. 

[loveshinsukenakamura]

Do you ever talk to friends about Shinsuke and they don't see his beauty because this has been my life with every wrestler ever

Teehee in a sense I have converted some of my nonwrestling friends to the awesomeness of Shinsuke - one friend loves how extra he is and wouldn't mind watching him live with me one day (if ever a day happens), another listens to his theme because it's "legit" (yass). Other friends are like "he's weird" or "crazy" or "he doesn't look good in that pic" (how rude). So I'm grateful to be as Shinsuke-extra as I can be here with you lovely tumblrinos.

[snowvitamins]

Help Tumblrinos!

I am trying to sell stickers on redbubble but I’d like them to be the shape of the image, as opposed to being rectangular.  Does that make sense?  I am struggling to figure out how to edit the image either in redbubble or in an outside program to make this happen.  Any tips or ideas or instructions as to how I could do this?  For reference, these are drawings I’ve done on paper and am now trying to edit a .jpeg or .pdf image of the drawing.

Tagging some people who sell unconventionally shaped stuff on redbubble in case they can help me! @allheartgillian @noamchimpsky

Thanks in advance

[megsandroses]

crappy words.

i am back to tumblr world and gillovny fandom and just wanted to say a few words. first of all, i wanted to thank everyone who showed me a support and sent me messages with good luck. it brought me some luck indeed because i passed 4 exams, 5 more to go... i hope i’ve got enough of luck. also, i wanted to welcome all the new followers that i gained during this break. i’m glad you’re here! 

a few words on gillian/peter morgan rumor. i don’t believe it, i’m fully convinced it has nothing to do with a romantic relationship. i think sooner or later we will get an info that gillian will join the cast of the crown (which is good because i watched the show and gotta tell you - it’s quite good. and it’s gonna be more GOODE because in season 2 we’ll get matthew goode). everything’s weird to me; i don’t understand why would gillian want to go public with her relatioship with someone and then show no affection to them? that doesn’t make sense to me so i’m sticking to my version - it’s all for promotion.

whatever happens, i’m staying here because this is where i belong to. i’ll keep writing poems. i actually posted one today! and i’m working on a new fic so that’s gonna be out soon, as well. just as soon as i’m done with my exams and @justholdinghandsok is done with correcting me :D

i don’t get asks on a daily basis but if you want to talk to me - you can do it in many ways, so that’s it...

oh, and if you live in london or want to go to london, go there on march 10th and meet me, @justholdinghandsok, @becksndot5 and, i hope, many more tumblrinos! we’ll get a drink or two, or maybe seven and we’ll talk about gillovny and not gillovny. LONDON IS CALLING YOU GUYS! 

that’s it for now. thanks! 

[frangipanidownunder]

Times Fox Mulder Cried: 6

I wrote these vignettes when I was a baby Tumblrino with no followers. I will be writing an eleventh one shortly, just to round off the series - I can’t leave it dangling! Sorry if you’ve already read these - feel free to scroll on by.

Tagging @today-in-fic which wasn’t around back then and the very sweet  @i-gaze-at-scully  who asked to be kept up to date. Read Season One Season Two Season Three Season Four Season Five

He dreamt about the dirt more than anything else. It itched his ears, plugged his nostrils, made his fingernails heavy and choked him as it fell from his mouth. And even outside of the dreams, he couldn’t get the smell from under his nose. It followed him, filling his senses with the wet, organic odour. It spoilt his coffee, tarnished his breakfast cereal and tainted even the sweetest or strongest flavours. He wondered if Scully was experiencing the same thing. Opening his eyes, he inhaled deeply, groaning as the dirt taste hit the back of his throat.

He fumbled for his phone. “Hey Scully. How’re you feeling today?” “Like I ate mud pie.”

He sat up on his couch, stretching his legs out in front of him, flexing his toes. The sound of her voice soothed him and he yawned. When he focused again, his legs were melting and dripping all over the floor of his living room, pooling like the black oil, slithering apart, then regrouping. He dropped the phone and pushed himself back, away from the slick threat that was reshaping in front of him. He felt weak, his arms heavy with fatigue. The oil climbed up the edge of the couch, reaching him and reforming into his legs. By the time he blinked and came back to some kind of reality, Scully’s voice had morphed from pacifying to panicked. “I’m here, Scully. I just…” “Hold on Mulder, I’m on my way.”

He let her tend to him. Feeling his forehead, rubbing her soft palm over his cheeks and chin, through his hair, feeling the pulse on his neck. “I presume I’m still alive, Dr Scully.” She chuffed out a laugh. “Well, you’re the best looking corpse, I’ve ever seen, Agent Mulder.” The image flashed through his mind, unbidden. Him lying on a gurney, his face marked by three ugly scars on each cheek, his skin grey and mottled, his lips slightly apart and white. She was howling, heaving out messy, ugly sobs. He knocked her hand away and gulped in a dirty breath. “Mulder!” “Sorry, I’m…sorry.” He picked up her hand, rubbing her wrist. “Did I hurt you?” She shook her head. “Mulder, are you all right?”

He watched her as she fussed about in the kitchen, rooting through his cupboards, trying to put together a meal. “When was the last time you went shopping?” “Clearly some time before I got eaten by a giant mushroom,” he folded his arms. “Can’t we order take-out?” “You need to eat proper food, Mulder. MSG and E numbers are only going to add to your…condition.” She peered at the use-by date on the only packet of pasta he had in the pantry. “If you don’t want me to cook, why don’t we go to that little restaurant downtown? It serves decent food. Fresh food.” He nodded as carefully as he could without giving away his enthusiasm. But a vision hit him - of her sitting at a table wearing a low-cut black dress with the finest spaghetti straps, sitting with…no, it couldn’t be. Cancer Man? Pain sliced through his head and he staggered forward, clutching his temples. His vision greyed to pinpricks and his last thought was of that black-lunged bastard and what he did to Scully.

When he came to, the dirt smell was overpowering. His head throbbed, his throat was dry and waves of nausea clenched at his gut. He was laid out on his bed, stripped to his boxers, a sheet pulled up to his neck. Scully was sleeping in a chair next to his bed. A crackling image of her sitting like this as he lay in a hospital bed filled his mind and his ears with the chaos of a million voices. He squeezed his eyes shut and he saw himself again, held down by invisible forces on an angled bed, shiny against the stark background of the room he was in, pain in every nerve ending; and again being whipped in a bizarrely religious scene by a redhead who wasn’t Scully. His heart raced and he tried to sit up without waking her. “Lay back down, Mulder. Sleep.” She was up and pushing him back in an instant. “I can’t. It’s driving me crazy.” “What? The hallucinations? Are they getting worse?,” she sat down on the bed and frowned at him. “I think you need to go back to the hospital? Your system is still being affected by the fungus. What do you see? Can you describe the visions?” “I don’t know. It depends on what’s happening around me. The scenes seem to be connected to reality, somehow.” Maybe. “To reality, Mulder? You mean you’ve seen these things before? When? Are they cases?” He shrugged, suddenly unsure. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. I just need to get up. Do something.” She frowned, doubt flickering across her eyes. “Okay.What do you want to do? Watch a movie. Read? Play cards?”

She dealt like a pro. Why didn’t he know this about her before? Dana Scully, card shark. She smiled that enigmatic way she did when she knew she’d managed keep him guessing. “I keep unfolding like a flower?” “Something like that,” he said, chuffing out a laugh, when all he wanted to do was kiss her. Her tongue was resting between her lips and she was frowning. The tension in her neck made her mouth rounder, more inviting. His groin tingled. They’d been slowly feeling their way through the dark and confusing maze of an intimate relationship. Most of the time he felt like he was wearing a blindfold, relying on instinct and guesswork to navigate each day. He hoped she felt the same. He needed to open his eyes, see the light. “Mulder, it’s your turn.” She smiled indulgently, holding her cards close to her chest. He saw her suddenly, on all fours, twisting her hands in an obscene show of flexibility. Then she wore a black hat, quirked at a cute angle. A cascade of Scully faces where she was smiling. And flirty. He coughed, tasting the dirt in the back of his throat. “Sorry, I think I need some water.” “I’ll get it,” she said before he could stand up. When she returned, he was sitting on the couch, listening to the rhythmic beat of the fish tank filter. She sat next to him. He turned to take the water, but instead she threw it over him and stormed off. He sat, drenched and spluttering as his living room morphed into the Hoover Building and he absorbed the melee of an office of agents on a case…a missing person…someone important…

The doctor decided not to admit him. Scully was pissed. She held her mouth in a tight line. “You can come to my apartment.” Defeat caused the tone of her voice to take on that breathy edge. “But we’re not playing cards.”

She pushed open the door and he flinched when he saw her slammed against the dresser, smashing the mirror. Her neck was bruised, she was wearing her pyjamas. She was fighting for her life… “Scuhh…oh god. Pfaster.” “What? Mulder, what do you see. Talk to me.” “You…here…him.” “Mulder, I’m here. It’s okay. There’s nobody else here but you and me. It’s safe.” Her voice was soothing, a lilting melody that wafted around his ears. “Pfaster is in jail, Mulder. He’s in jail.” She leant her head against his chest and he rubbed his hand through her hair. She was in one piece, perfect. He pulled her face up towards him. “You’re okay, Scully. You’re fine.” He ran his fingers over her skin, touched her neck, kissed her cheek tenderly. “Yes. I’m fine.” She kissed him back, a peck on his lips that snapped him back to reality. “Maybe we should go outside for a walk. Fresh air will do us both some good.”

The park bustled with people who had a life. Mulder felt some sense of peace returning as he strolled next to Scully. Dogs yapped and bounded. Joggers sweated and puffed. Kids zigzagged round trees, squealing. Mums pushed prams. He chanced a look at Scully and the image of her holding a newborn in her arms swam into his mind. He gasped so loudly she stopped and grabbed his arm. “Mulder?” “I’m fine.” He hung his head, trying to collect himself. She frowned, twisting her head to peer under his chin. “Are you…are you crying?” He shook his head, then nodded, feeling his brow crinkle and the tears track down his cheeks. “What is it?” “Nothing Scully. It’s nothing to worry about.” He swiped the wet away. “It’s all good. Really good.” “So, happy tears?” He blinked, smiling at her, his mind clearer than it had been in years. “Happy. Yes.” A smile crinkled at the corners of her mouth and she reached for his hand, squeezing it in her own as she pulled him on.

The dream woke him. Sweat smudged in his eyes, the hairs on his body stood on end, gooseflesh prickled over his skin. Scully was sound asleep beside him. William. He was coming. A fresh set of tears tracked down his cheeks. William. Miracle. Son. Saviour.