#shes a goodun

[f-imaginings]

Can we get a sneaky peak at the next chapter? :3

tumblr's post limit has been yelling at me like it's so great, so it will probably only be a small snippet but I will do my best to get you the sneakiest of peeks!

“See that?” Stan pointed out, clapping his hand to his knee, cheerful fondness drenching his tone. “No matter what happens, they’ll always have each other. Just goes to show, you’re never lonely when you have a twin.” “Even so, the fact that he’s so reliant on her is concerning.” Ford remarked dismissively as if he hadn’t heard Stanley’s saccharine turn of phrase, missing the way his brother wrinkled his nose, appalled by his conclusion. “He’ll need to socialise independently at some point. Perhaps some time apart would be good for Dipper’s development? Help him feel more confident forging friendships on his own.” “You want to split ‘em up?” Stanley scowled at his brother, his eyes narrowed confrontationally. “What, ruining one set of twins wasn’t good enough for you?” Picking up on Stan’s hostile tone, Ford turned to face his brother, putting his hand on his chest indignantly. “This isn’t about us Stanley. This is about what’s best for Dipper.” “And how would you know what’s best for Dipper? Considering you’ve only known the kid for a couple of weeks, huh?” Stanley’s jaw jutted out stubbornly, his scowl deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. “What genius level insight makes you qualified to make those decisions for him?” “Well, you did say he reminded you of me.” Ford pointed out snidely, rising to his brother’s bait. “You don’t think I would have had an easier time making friends at university if I hadn’t been so reliant on you growing up?” “Is that what you think?” Stanley’s brow furrowed, more confused than offended. “I thought you were living it up at university. From what I heard from mom you were having the time of your life there.” “I didn’t know she’d be passing along reports.” Ford replied, looking slightly perturbed. “It wasn’t like that.” Stanley clarified. “We’d chat over the phone, a couple of yappers, the both of us. You know how mom was. It wasn’t like she was spying on you.” “Were you asking after me then?” Stanford looked at his brother curiously. “Don’t get a big head.” Stanley huffed and took a sip of his soda, looking away from Ford evasively. “Just making conversation. What else were we supposed to talk about? Dad?” “Ugh. Fair point.” Ford wrinkled his nose, shuddering dramatically, the tension dissipated in an instant. Changing the subject somewhat playfully, Ford tilted his head. “What else did you talk to mom about? Would you have told her about your whole ‘pug smuggling’ racket? How long has that scheme been going on for?” “Listen, it’s a perfectly legitimate business.” Stan gestured with his hands, his inner businessman taking the fore. “I source the pugs from little old ladies who wouldn’t be able to take care of that many dogs in the first place. Val sells ‘em across the border for a tidy profit, and I get my cut. Everyone’s happy.” “And this ‘Val’, how is it you know her exactly?” Ford probed, lacing his fingers together, resting his chin on his hands, watching his brother fluster slightly. “We’re old business partners.” Stanley replied, his taciturn answer more telling than a more forthcoming answer would be. “Oh, so you dated.” Ford remarked airily, enjoying the way his brother’s shoulders bunched up defensively. “How do you -? I mean, sure, I guess we mighta had a thing back in the day.” Stanley scratched the back of his neck, looking away evasively. “This was 30 years ago, mind you.” “Where did you meet her?” Ford questioned. Stanley paused, squinting at his brother’s interest dubiously, before he cast a look towards the living room, checking on the kids. Standing up, Stanley cracked his back, before pacing over to the fridge, grabbing a step stool and reaching for the taxidermied wolfs head. Sliding his hand in the wolf’s mouth, Stanley withdrew a small metal flask, and paced back over to the table, surreptitiously pouring a generous shot of vodka into the open pull tab of his cola. “Want some? I’m not having a conversation about my love life’s greatest hits sober.”

Raising his eyebrows, Ford slid his cola can across the table, amused as his brother furtively poured vodka into his drink before hiding the flask under his fez, looking over his shoulder again to check the kids didn’t see him drinking. “I was wondering why the wolf’s head was on the fridge.” Ford remarked, bringing the spiked cola to his lips. “I thought you quit drinking for the summer. Is there a flask stashed in the six-packalope too?” “Gotta have an emergency stash.” Stanley reasoned, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “What if the end of the world hits tomorrow? You wanna try getting through that without alcohol.”

Ford sheepishly avoided eye contact with his brother, well aware that the prospect of an oncoming apocalypse wasn’t entirely out of the question. Coughing slightly on his sip, Stanford cleared his throat. “I never took you for a prepper.” “Are you kidding? The amount of warnings you put in those journals, I was half expecting to kick doomsday off myself.” Stanley laughed callously. “Now I got all this brown meat I gotta eat. I’m almost disappointed nothing catastrophic happened.” “Well, you never know.” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, seeking a topic change so as to avoid admitting fault.

[cornsarts]

OC-tober Day 5: Redesigned OC

I've had Mel with me for a long time. I made her as a teen, modeled after my old cat Melanie. She was the ultimate insert character, she got slapped into everything.

The first image wasn't dated, I'd put it in the early 2010's, that specific drawing was her and Nemu from Bleach (shipped em). The second image was a redesign I did my freshman year of college for a homework assignment, making her more realistic and 'edgy'. Her most current iteration runs a diner in the Red and Cassverse, the third image being from a test comic I did back in 2022. Last image I drew today, honoring her roots as a catgirl.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Listen the ideal dynamic for any horror romance is slasher villain/girlie who is justa. Littol bit too fucked up 💃

[stopfunkinwmyheart]

This lady was in an aisle for like 15 mins so eventually I’m all Heyy u need any help? She smiled at me like “ur joking…?” And I swear I caught it change to “oh nahh u just don’t know bout me…. W ur liddle stupid ass….” And she tells me she’s a brand rep. I felt soooo dumb for something so stupid.

[swifty-fox]

that was genuinely the most violent session I've had in like 3 years

when ur therapist rips your head open at 10am on a Tuesday and now ur supposed to like function the rest of the day???

[kalifornia1025]

The Three Students Pt. 1 (SPOILERS)

Alright, pt.1 reaction notes let’s get started!

Ooooh okay, sneak peek at what's to come for Sherlock! Very interesting…

I knew I KNEW Archie was gonna be “in trouble” for this episode based on the patreon newsletter!! Honestly good on John for having a whole Sherlock-esque deduction monologue about Archie being guilty (unfortunately he’s rather wrong later on)

Oooh so that’s how they end up at Oxford! Because Sherlock was asked to be a speaker! Good for him

I so get the huge difference between speaking publicly because you have to vs getting really into talking about your special interest. Same Sherlock, I getcha.

‘Autistic man turns down offer to speak to room full of people’ ngl this is a MOOD (as an autistic woman myself!)

LESTRADE MENTION!! John is so right in saying Lestrade would be putting in a lot of work to let people like Sherlock (consulting detective - not a CERTIFIED one), himself (doctor from Swindon), and Mariana (accountant from Sociedad) legally take on serious criminal cases so it’s only fair Sherlock returns the favor for that. 

Sherlock, you framed the DOG for your crimes! You’re a good consulting detective but an unhinged criminal

John you’re SO SALTY over Spain’s victory in the Euros, YOU get over it!

‘Nerd alert’, ‘Got half a mind to give you a wedgie’ of course YOU’D be a bully jock John, why am I not surprised?

Cracked open a beer already? Played Madonna late into the night? John, are you okay??

Oop, Mariana lore? 

I weirdly find John’s little chuckle cute when he’s asking Mariana what she did

Mariana, you did WHAT?? John no, that was NOT a ‘goodun’!

JRR TOLKIEN MENTION!! Been a huge Lord of the Rings fan lately

John, you’re a little TOO excited about a pub being there…

‘Wankfest’? John you said that in the same sentence as Sherlock’s speech….the speech sounds fine for now but my gut’s telling me the final draft is gonna SUCK

‘Sherly sense’ John I both love and hate you for that

Okay but shoutout to Adam Jarrell for having a BLAST with that voice acting! I certainly found it delightful

And there it is! Sherlock, you will find yourself in the middle of a case ANYWHERE

I'll say this: I love how this podcast takes the classic acd cases and reinvents them to make them make more sense in the modern day setting! The irony of a mysterious crime being committed for a Criminology controlled assessment is perfect, and honestly a step up from the original being about a Greek exam.

Sherlock: “I will take on the case, you have my word that-“ Soames: “What about the speech?” Sherlock: “…I forgot about that”, Sherlock why do you do this to yourself?

Oh John…you’re gonna become a frat boy, aren’t you?

HE IS!! JOHN YOU MESSY PERSON (I still love you <3)

Drunk John calling Mariana ‘Mrs. Hudson’ is cute to me for some reason

VODKA?! Oh he was PARTYING partying. John, why do you do this to yourself??

Oh no, poor Sherlock’s nervous!

And that’s all for part one! I REALLY really like when the podcast reinvents classic cases to have it make more sense in regard to the realistic modern day circumstances like why they’re ACTUALLY there and what case coincidentally comes up for them to solve! Also guys…I’m kinda getting worried for John. Dude hasn’t been sleeping well in the last episodes and now the alcohol is becoming more frequent for him. Am I the only one on this??

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Some records say a Time Lord's collarbones are also very sensitive... Does it have to do with the nerve endings?

Why are Gallifreyan shoulders sensitive?

Only one collarbone is particularly sensitive - the left one, directly due to a bundle of nerves located in that area.

🤔 Where Is It?

Here's a simple test you can do sitting right there: Run your fingers just under your left collarbone, pressing lightly. Just before you reach your shoulder, you should feel a slight dip. This is where a nerve ganglion is located in a Time Lord.

⚡ The Nerve Ganglion

This nerve cluster is one of several distributed throughout the Gallifreyan body (another is in the brain, and another between the hearts). Here's why this particular ganglion under the left collarbone is so significant:

Physical Vulnerability: Because this ganglion is close to the collarbone, even a slight impact in this area can trigger intense pain, spasms, or breathlessness.

Incapacitation: A forceful blow to this area will KO a Time Lord due to the sensitive nerve cluster's direct link to vital bodily functions. This makes it an effective point for instant incapacitation in combat or other high-risk situations.

Medical Risks: Given its high sensitivity, medical procedures near the left collarbone need real planning. The proximity to the nerve ganglion means that any procedure or accidental trauma could lead to severe pain or other unintended physiological effects, such as respiratory distress or damaging changes in hearts rate.

Peripheral Nervous System: Gallifreyans have a more extensive peripheral nervous system than humans, with more nerve endings that are highly sensitive. This increased sensitivity contributes to the intense reactions caused by the ganglion.

Lack Of Control: Gallifreyans usually have pretty good control over most of their systems, but they can't do much about this.

🏫 So ...

It's not both collar bones that are sensitive; it's just the one, but it's a goodun. Like a Dalek's eyestalk or a Sontaran's probic vent, it's essentially the Time Lord's weak spot. Take care out there.

Related:

Can Gallifreyans get pins and needles?: Parathesia and its causes.

Do Time Lords have the equivalent of tonic immobility?: Probability of tonic immobility and notes on nerve ganglions.

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[the-perverse-library]

Hyper body + Rogue’s entire backside

It had happened during a mission. Rogue saw one of Magneto's creepy Brotherhood minions rush forward to ambush the team, so she acted. The southern belle slapped the growing mutant with her bare hand, draining his power and knocking the villainous mutant out cold. She just hadn't anticipated how she'd manifest his powers.

Her ass felt warm and tingly, as if a small current of electricity thrumming through every inch of her fat ass. "G-godamn! I ain't never felt anythang like this." Rogue moaned as the bodily sensations started to grow in intensity. Rogue barely had time to think as she felt her spandex suit pill tight against her, audibly protesting as she started to swell and grow. "W-what in the he~oooh!" Rogue bit her bottom lip to smother any more of her aroused cries as her body continued to balloon until...

RRRrriiiIIIiiiPPP!!!

The spandex of her suit finally lost the battle against her burgeoning buttcheeks. Rogue came as she felt the rubbery fabric explode off of her two bouncing, freckled globes. Her new size felt amazing, Rogue couldn't help but grope and squeeze her two wobbling mountains, the battle all but forgotten in her mind. "I think I'm going take you home." Rogue said with a silky voice. "Teach you how tah be a goodun', all so as long as I get a taste a your power every whip an' again. Sound fair?"

[blazevillains]

Please sir, may I have but a penny? I've never owned me very own and I haven't got any shoes to put on me feet since me sister ate them since we haven't got a penny to our name and she starved

well hello there kind youngin! well me being from canada i am bound to grant a penny to a fine young english lad!

this is a goodun, its got your very queen right on the back youll feel right at home

[erysvoleil]

Talking out my ass as a ward nonreader here, but it's really funny that the Entire Secondhand Understanding of cluster triggers I've gotten is like. exponentially less cool and interesting than a single-arc E-list antagonist from worm.

What I'm saying is butcher fourteen is cool. I would like to think more about butcher fourteen. She has a very narrow narrative role and isn't explored much and ultimately even in the throes of the Book That Has Insanely Good And Developed Side Characters, she still stands out as a Goodun despite that for being first and foremost a sick as fuck concept and both entering and exiting the story with flair. Shouts out to butcher fourteen.

Probably something to be said about the ward comparison there but I'm not actually reading ward to make it

[therunawaykind]

what are your favorite nicknames

I of course like the usual Dan, Dani, mah wife is a goodun (thanks for that 8Bit)

I can't say or mention any of the nicknames Oaks have given me she'd get too much happiness and pride from knowing I secretly like them but which ones specifically? I'll never tell though I'm sure she can figure it out and already knows

[steelycunt]

i finished the show :-/

[ultalliance]

Rogue brushed herself off again of some imaginary debris, letting out a sigh of bemusement as she began for the door inside the main building.

"Lemme tell ya, havin' premonitions don't mean squat when they're vague. All Ah saw th' other day were giant men and nothin' else. Now Ah find out it was over Sentinels while Ah'm shoppin'!" She exclaimed, shaking her head in bemusement of it all.

While her mutant power wasn't premonitions, the ones she got from Ms. Marvel a long time ago did come with such. Not that they were oft helpful, save the rare times where they warned her of an incoming surprise in the midst of battle.

Just as they were getting to the door, it opened ahead of them as the redhead in the doorway looked the two over. Glancing over Rogue's shoulder to Ben with a smile.

"Ah, you must be Ben," Jean said, stepping aside to let them into the hallway. "I'm Jean Grey, the headmistress, and this is Xavier's Institute of Mutant Education and Outreach. I take it you're just here from an omniversal 'oopsie-daisy', as it were?"

"Right, while you two have that talk, Ah'm gonn' go t' my room t' change. Have a goodun, Ben." Rogue said, giving a wave over her shoulder as she began down the side hall toward the far staircase. "Try not t' scare 'im off, Jean."

Jean rolled her eyes at that, chuckling at the joke as she began to lead the way down the main hall toward the foyer. "While you have no intention of enrolling here, you'll still have full access to all facilities during your stay. Do you want the full tour while we talk or do you want to save that for later?"

There's an audible 'Oooooh!' of awe from the younger as the Institute came into view, green eyes scanning the length of the building and looking to all the colorful students making their way across the sprawling grounds. No offense to his cousin and her magical library, but this place put Friedkin University to complete shame.

Ben is anything but worrisome as they came to a stop in the garage, unbuckling himself with clear eagerness on his face.

"Sounds good to me! Can't wait to have my brains picked." He affirmed with a nod, opening the car door and stepping out.

All things considered, this 'mishap' was working out.

[goldencorecrunches]

@bitterfrosts @autumnsky YES yes these are the things I am ALSO passionate about 

--

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Jiang Yanli says, when Wen Qing reaches out and turns her bleeding knuckles out of the shadows of the lamp. If she were A-Ning, Wen Qing would hit her. But that’s the whole point—she isn’t, she’s Jiang Yanli, and so Wen Qing shoves the violence down into a lump inside of her, denser than lead but a thousand times more voliable, and examines the cracked red sores on the backs of Jiang Yanli’s hands. It’s a chill evening, and the blood has dried into little strings of painful gemstones, dotting between the bones, the tendons. They look so pitiful, these hands, for things so precious, which have helped so much. Wen Qing wants to fold them to her chest and cradle them close.

“Did you lose the salve?” she asks, with a look that says her meaning: Did you give it away? She knows enough of the other woman by know to know it a reasonable suspicion. Jiang Yanli shakes her head, cheeks pink from the bite of the wind. Her hands twitch in Wen Qing’s, and start to curl around her larger fingers, before they flinch and still. That is it, Wen Qing decides: she is not letting Jiang Yanli out of her sight before getting something on her poor chapped skin. “Come with me,” she snaps, too focused to soften her voice. She cuts herself off, expecting Jiang Yanli to turn away hurt, but she only smiles and follows where Wen Qing pulls her. Wen Qing’s cheeks feel flushed themselves, now. Stupid.

To cover her emotional response, Wen Qing bustles Jiang Yanli inside her small room and onto a cushion, and spends an embarrassing amount of time getting out the stock jar of moisturizing salve she keeps for situations just like these. The clinking of the lid on the table is very loud. Wen Qing is a seasoned doctor: she is not clumsy. The lid is just very slippery. “It’s going to burn at first,” she warns, scooping out two generous measures of the pungent salve and plopping them on Jiang Yanli’s helpfully presented knuckles. “It wouldn’t, if you were using it regularly. It can’t help if you don’t actually put it on your skin.” Briskly, she takes Jiang Yanli’s right hand between her own and begins to rub the salve in with her thumbs, circular motions, making sure to spread it evenly. Jiang Yanli stiffens, a tiny noise of pain escaping her; it goes right through Wen Qing’s heart, an arrow-shaft punching clean through. “What did I tell you,” she says, instead of sorry or I know, it’ll be okay, or any of the other things that would be kind. She doesn’t usually mind it, not being kind—it’s served her well—but right now she could hit herself. She looks up, and Jiang Yanli’s bottom lip is dimpled with her small, white teeth, her eyebrows drawn together. Her expression—Wen Qing has seen many people, in pain—it’s rather her profession—but Jiang Yanli looks resigned, in a way that has Wen Qing’s own fingers slowing. “Why didn’t you use this?” She asks, easing her grip so Jiang Yanli’s hand is merely resting upon her own, thick paste a greasy layer over all three. She is not a patient woman; not usually. But she waits, while Jiang Yanli ducks her head, and worries her lip, and shifts on her knees like a woman admitting to much worser transgressions than forgetting a bit of skincare in the evenings. “I use my hands a lot,” she says, finally, small and soft. “It…can hurt, at the end of the day. Rubbing in a salve is difficult. I know I—” “Hush,” Wen Qing says. And then, forcing herself: “Wait. That’s—I should have thought. One moment.” She drops Jiang Yanli’s hand, reluctant—horrified a bit, with herself, at using it so ungently—and stalks back over to her chest of medicines. Pressing her mouth in a thin line, she tugs out a roll of bandages; discards it, finds a roll that is softer; stomps, nearly, back over and drops to crouch again in front of her patient, unwinding the roll as she goes. Jiang Yanli is blinking at her, doe-eyed like some creature not tested in blood and battle as she is. Trusting. It makes a fierce instinct rise burning behind Wen Qing’s ribs, the desire to spirit her away and hide her in softness while the ugly world tears itself apart outside. She would never do such a disrespect, of course. But she wants to. Carefully, touching now Jiang Yanli’s skin as little as possible, Wen Qing spreads the salve over the backs of her hands, her fingers, her palms too for good measure. Instead of rubbing it in, this time, she tucks the edge of the bandage against a fine-boned wrist and wraps from there to fingertip, and then back again, pulling the fabric only as tight as is needed to keep it secure. Jiang Yanli is silent, watching her. She keeps very still. Wen Qing is dizzy with something that is not rage but feels like it. “Sleep with those on,” she says, when she is finished, pushing Jiang Yanli’s hands back gently to her chest. She lingers, unable to stop herself, touching the overlapped vees of hemp that hide Jiang Yanli’s too-well-earned suffering from the world. It is past sundown, now: she should light another lamp. She is so tired. It has been a day of broken flesh and twisted bone and she wants to cry at the sight of these dear bandaged hands lying so stiffly against their mistress’s robe, the smallest of things ruined in this endless march of brawl and battle that men call glory. “Wen Qing,” she hears, like the bottom of a well. One of the bandages comes up to her own cheek, touches the skin under her eye. “Don’t get that wet,” Wen Qing chokes out. Oh: she is crying. Stupid, stupid. “They’ve been talking about what will happen, after,” Jiang Yanli says. By They she means Them, the warlords, the sect leaders, the people who decide the fates of those like them, who are only people when they are useful. That is uncharitable; but that does not mean it is not true. “I can ask you, and your brother, to come back to Lot—to come back when we rebuild Lotus Pier. You have helped us.” “Don’t,” Wen Qing says. By strength of will, she keeps her fingers from clenching around Jiang Yanli’s. She cannot do this now, here, in a field tent with this beautiful, sad woman. “Wrap your hands like this every night. It won’t work as well as rubbing it in, but it should keep the pain from flaring. If you need to, you can come to me and I’ll do it for you.” “All right,” Jiang Yanli says. Softly yet, but it is a firm promise; it is a promise of more than a bit of salve and cloth, but Wen Qing cannot let herself think of that. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, at the morning meal. You can sit with me, and check my hands again then.” Wen Qing can only nod, and watch, tongue heavy in her mouth, tears drying to flake away, while the flap of the tent falls closed behind her.

[discreetmusic]

Flatmate brought home her entire yearly allowance of free records from work today... Hello 23 shiny new vinyls

[strungpearls]

[ final answer ]