#yes i did my research for this one

[alleyesony0u]

i think the sacrificial lamb take on evbo is nice and very cool to play with but might i offer my cent?

evbo is a calf.

there is something inherently holy about the sacrifice of a lamb. it is innocent and pure and you give up its life in worship. there is nothing holy about what the iron swords do to evbo. they open the door, they torture him, they slaughter him. they farm him. cattle are farm animals.

some calves are born to be killed for veal. there are multiple different ways veal calves are raised, with a range in ages at which they are slaughtered for their meat. one process for raising veal calves, which is particularly inhumane (and really quite disgusts me), involves placing the calf in a small pen and feeding it barely sustainable food until it reaches around eighteen weeks old. they are then killed for veal.

there is no worship when it comes to slaughtering the trembling calf staring down the barrel of your gun. you simply watch as it falls limp to the ground, blood pooling beneath its body, before you drag it off to be turned into the meat that sits on your plate.

why would you ever worship the creature that only ever lived to die?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Wei Wuxian eats a watermelon. Yep!

[throes-of-warm-tornadoes]

okay no offense but i’m not a fan of Five finding his “real life” dolores. like, that diva was literally a coping mechanism for him. a tangible reminder that he was so lonely that he made a literal piece of plastic his companion. i think the idea of it is sweet but at the end of the day i think that if Five did find someone romantically it should be someone that makes him feel silly and carefree, not someone that is a fleshy replica of an Apocalyptic Souvenir

[not-the-coffee-machine4]

Me: *tries to see what the Queen fans on TikTok have to say*

*Jim hate*

*”facts” that may or not be actually true*

*”Freddie Mercury was bisexual-“*

*Using Barbara Valentin as evidence*

*thinking things that happened in the movie actually happened irl*

*general misinformation about everyone and everything*

Me: aaaaand back to Tumblr I go

(open tags at your own risk, there’s a whole essay in there)

[ifindus]

since you seem to know a lot of history, I was wondering if you could tell us a little more about norway and his role during ww2, I feel like not a lot of people talk about his importance as an ally.

Let's pretend this wasn't sent back in November! Of course I can!!And "a little" turned into a decent amount 😳

Norway declared itself neutral when the war started in 1939, but became occupied by Germany in April 1940. Throughout the war Norway played an important role helping the allies win. Note that there is also a lot to be said about Norwegian collaboration with the occupiers during these years as well, but that is not the topic of this post.

During the war Norway had both a military and a civil resistance movement. The civil movement was directed towards NS (Nasjonal Samling, the Norwegian nazi party and the only party allowed during these years) attempts at converting people to nazism, while the military resistance were building an underground army who were prepared to step in for the liberation and who also organized sabotages during the last year.

Norway’s government went into exile in London, and was in large responsible for Norway’s war effort and resistance. They took control of the Norwegian merchant ships and put it at the allies disposal, probably Norway’s most important asset and contribution to the war effort. The Norwegian marine and air-force also partook in operations along the Allies, and a Norwegian brigade was organized in Scotland, who were to partake in the final liberation of Norway.

The exiled government had an extensive running contact with the growing resistance back home in Norway, and could gradually provide the resistance with supplies and other support. Soldiers from the Scottish base were sent on missions to aid the resistance in Norway and conduct sabotages.

There as also a base for Norwegian resistance established in Stockholm, who were eventually allowed by the Swedish government to form a military force of 14 500 people under disguise of being police. About 50 000 Norwegians fled to Sweden during the war, and many Norwegians in the border areas aided them as guides over the mountains through difficult and secret passages – they also smuggled goods and supplies through the same routes.

The civil resistance was not exclusively organized, but included everyone who was not a nazi and could be as simple as civil disobedience. Teachers, parents, and priests opposed the effort to convert the youth to nazism by the NS through forced nazi curriculums in schools and obligatory youth service. Other examples of civil resistance were Norwegian workers sabotaging or not even doing the bare minimum at the jobs in factories for the Germans, and the publishing of illegal news-papers which were spread by people handing them to the next person. The most famous illegal news-paper was London-Nytt (London News), and were just Norwegian translations of BBC broadcasts transcribed directly from illegal radios.

The military resistance was known as MILORG, and this secret group had its peak in the last year of the war. This was when they began receiving guns, military equipment and professionals. During the last year they carried out assassinations and sabotages to a much more effective and extensive degree. MILORG was taking orders from the Norwegian military in London and coordinating with them, passing vital information back and forth.

When the Second World War began, Norway was the world’s fourth largest shipping nation, after Great Britain, USA, and Japan, with the Norwegian fleet being the most modern. When Norway was occupied and the Germans demanded Norwegian ships return to Norwegian ports, all of the around 1 000 ships set sail for Allied ports. The Norwegian government in exile commanded all Norwegian ships sail for securing supplies for Norway and the Allies. The ships supplied Great Britain with invaluable wares such as food and oil, and kept up the transatlantic trade during the war. The Norwegian sailors were also present at evacuations and invasions of occupied France and fascist Italy, North-Africa, and Normandy in 1944. The Norwegian ships were under constant attack from the German fleet and many sailors lost their lives transporting for the Allies, most of them working continuously for the five years Norway was at war. Almost half of Norway’s fallen during the war were sailors killed at sea.

[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando Alonso & His Relationship With Cards

I'm sure we're all familar with the cards on the back of Fernando's Vegas GP helmet by now, but did you know his relationship with cards goes a lot deeper?

I. Magic Tricks

You've probably seen or heard someone at least mention Fernando's propensity for card tricks. As far as I can tell he was doing them(publically) as far back as 2003 all the way to as recently as 2018. Even once performing a card trick, with a condom and a teddy bear(!??!?!??!!), in front of Valentino Rossi who said "How was that possible?"(x)

But how did this start? According to James Allen, "Fernando admits to having been heavily influenced by his grandfather, a mercurial figure, who taught him magic and card tricks, still one of his passions away from the race track."(x) And I'm not sure the validity of this one, because I couldn't find an actual source, but apparently he once said: "My parents are responsible for the two things I like doing most - driving and magic tricks. They bought me my first go-kart and a magician's kit."

In several interviews he described it as his hobby off track, and that he loved learning new tricks and surprising others in the garage with them! So clearly cards are pretty important to him both as a hobby but also to who he is as a person since they've been with him just as long as racing has.

II. Card Symbolism in His Helmets

This is the reason I originally made this post, but I thought I should also explain the origins of his card fascination first. As I said, we probably all remember the cards on the back of his helmet in Vegas, but did you know that wasn't the first time he had cards on the back of his helmet?

From 2008-2013, he used to have a pair of cards on the back of his helmets. The symbolisms of the cards themselves as well as the evolution of their design is really fascinating to me! Even more so with the recent development of the card choice in 2023.

Fernando said he wanted to reference his two titles in some way on the back of his helmet and after his friend sent him several ideas, he decided on having two cards(an ace of clubs and an ace of hearts, sometimes pictured with 05 and 06 on them as well), saying: "I picked the cloverleaf [the ace of clubs - Ed] to give me luck, but the only pity is that it doesn't have four leaves!"(X)

2008.

Here's the very first appearance of the cards! They're displayed flat, with the 05 and 06 clearly visible

2009.

Very similar to 2008, but with a slightly different design, and they're maybe a bit more straight with less shadow?

2010.

This is the first major change! I was sad they didn't have the years on them anymore, but then I realized they're sparkly to match with his signature lightning bolts on the top of the helmet!!

2011.

Honestly I'm still somewhat unsure if this is the actual 2011 helmet? It's pretty difficult to find clear photos of the back of helmets from older seasons. It's easiest to find them on replica sites or auction sites so I'm not 100%? But anyways, I like that this has the championship years on the underside of the cards

2012.

This is when I started getting weirdly emotional about the helmets. Do you see how they've progressed from being a centerpoint to being curled up and sad at the bottom of the helmet? Not listing the year anymore??

2013.

Same thoughts as 2012. And after this season, they cease to exist (just like his ferrari chair in the garage, WOAH CALLBACK), until cards make a reeappearance in his Vegas helmet, albeit in a different form

2013 Monaco(Honorable Mention):

For some reason 2013 helmets were easier to find proper pictures of, so I happened to witness this absolute beauty. The creativity of this helmet genuinely blows me away??? Wanting to keep the card motif, but making sure to incorporate it into the rest of the puzzle piece design?? Mwah! There was another special 2013 helmet but they didn't change the cards at all so I really applaud this one

2023 Las Vegas(The Return of The King):

The magnificent return! But look! The cards are different cards! Instead of being two aces, it's now an ace of hearts, a four of hearts(his driver number of course!) and, the, now iconic, representation of himself as a Joker. I literally could not believe my eyes when this helmet was released and I saw the Joker card, what a fucking silly old man....I really wonder if he felt nostalgic having cards on his helmet again or if he didn't think about it all and was just like, "ah cards because Vegas!!!"

III. Why Does This Matter?

*The rest of the post was factual, this is moreso my personal thoughts on the symbolism of the cards/designs

This post spawned from me recently watching the 2010 Bahrain gp and noticing "hey wait a minute...are those CARDS ON THE BACK OF HIS HELMET!?" It's a really tiny detail that's unfortunately covered up by the HANS device pretty much whenever he's wearing the helmet, so it's really difficult to spot! But I became fascinated with the fact that he had cards on his helmet before that recent helmet, and now here we are!

There's something to me about how the design of the cards evolves over the course of six seasons from the cards being front and center to being smaller, more folded up and closer to the bottom of the helmet. As I said, the 2012-2013 ones genuinely made me depressed because it feels, symbolically, like his hopes for getting another Ace are becoming more and more unlikely and falling away until they eventually fall falt and fade away entirely after 2013 and disappear for basically a decade.

But when they return? They're not the same cards! Instead of representing Fernando's championships, they now represent him as a person, displaying his driver number and his persona of being a Joker!! Though I do think it's interesting he happened to keep the Ace of Hearts, even though he talked more about the Ace of Clubs before. I'm not sure it's actually this deep in reality, but I like to think that it's him not letting his championships(and the lack thereof) define him, but rather letting who he is as a person shine and be the centerpoint instead! But on a sadder note, as @suzuki-ecstar said to me, maybe the Aces aren't there anymore because he's lost all hope for a chance at a third Ace entirely :(

[vyeoh]

I'm rewatching all the Marvel Defenders shows on Netflix and as much as I mock the MCU now, I need non-Marvel fans to understand that I was and still am a fan of "Daredevil fighting the gentrifying assshole who bought out the police force because ACAB both as a lawyer and vigilante of the community" and "Jessica Jones fighting the man who mind controlled her into doing unspeakable things and forming a community of fellow survivors and allies while dealing with PTSD in a range of both healthy and unhealthy ways" Marvel. God I love these idiots they carried so hard

[leiascully]

with halloween coming up i’ve been dying for a spooky mermaid/siren au… scully being a beautiful scary ass mermaid and maybe mulder being a captain of a ship or something? maybe she just wants to lure him to his death or maybe it’s smutty or both? (i love your work you have no idea!! ty!!)

Scully snapped the telescope open and peered into the fog. There it was again - that flash or glint. It looked like metal, but there wasn’t any metal out there. Surpassing strange. She holstered the telescope at her hip and went to find her captain.

“Sir,” she said to Captain Skinner, “I think there’s something out there. I keep seeing a flash, like light reflecting off metal. But there’s no light, and no metal.”

“It’s the fog,” Captain Skinner said. “It’ll play tricks on your eyes, Scully. I’ve seen things over the years you wouldn’t believe. Keep your head level.” He patted her shoulder with a firm hand. Far firmer than he would have had he known she was a woman. Scully had run away to join the Navy, disguising herself as a man named Daniel. So far she’d managed to maintain the charade, padding out her uniform a bit and binding her breasts down. She shaved her face diligently every day while the crew teased her aspirations, and she had a sack full of sand that she tucked into her breeches to mock a member. She’d worked herself up to become Skinner’s first mate. They were on a little-regarded ship — the crew joked she ought to be called The Exile rather than The Exhilaration — but Scully was still proud of the accomplishment.

“I’ll return to my post, sir,” she said.

“Sometimes it feels like the fog is alive,” Skinner said. “Trust an old seadog. Keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Yessir,” she said.

The fog seemed thicker as she returned to the bridge. Scully couldn’t see any of the other crew members from her lookout spot under the figurehead. They sat at anchor; most of the crew were in their hammocks below decks. It was as if she was alone in the world. She leaned on the low railing and peered into the blankness. It was strange to see so much fog in the Caribbean; the waters had been clear when they’d left Bermuda, and the sky had been cloudless.

There it was again: a flicker of light, anomalous and uncanny. It flickered again and again, almost like a signal. Scully couldn’t see anything. She unholstered her telescope again, gazed out over the invisible water. There! A sinuous curve broke the surface, gone as quickly as she’d glimpsed it. And then, oh, a face! She saw it so clearly through her lenses: it had a square jaw and deepset eyes. A man, in the water. She skinned out of her jacket and rolled her telescope into it, tucking them against the hull of the ship. She kicked off her boots and stepped onto the rail. For a moment she balanced there, hesitating, but no, there was someone in the water and it was her duty to rescue them. She dove neatly into the sea.

Almost as soon as she’d delved under the surface of the water, she was swept up in a strange current. She opened her eyes, trying to get her bearings. The salt burned, but she could see something circling her. The coils of something tightened around her until she could feel scales sliding over the thin material of her shirt and breeches. She was embraced from shoulders to knees. She couldn’t move. She ought to be panicking, but she felt strangely calm. And there was the face again, those deep eyes peering at her.

(read the rest on AO3 - 4300 words, M for sexual situations, Navy sailor Scully has the time of her life with a merMulder)

[fivequartersoftheorange]

___________________

I found the album one sweltering afternoon in mid-summer, a month since we’d laid Gramps to rest. Rummaging through the dusty boxes and stacks of back copies of society magazines, I stubbed my toe on the trunk where it was kept, old and battered, sat in a dark corner of the attic.

I took the album, dusted it off, and sat down on a nearby stool. The cover was made of leather, cracked through with age and neatly labeled 1953-1954 in faded gold lettering. I flipped through the pages so yellowed with age, dust motes swirl in front of me as I make sense of what I’m looking at.

It was pictures of Gramps as a younger man. We knew that he was a film star back in the day, and that he was quite famous too, a real matinée idol. It seemed impossible to me then that he had a whole other life for he was always just Gramps; he seemed to always be humming and dancing, constantly moving or cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

Gramps was like magic and fairy dust, his warmth and gentleness touched anyone he came across. He was the grandfather who was up for anything, never raised his voice and talked to you like a grown-up. He was wise and funny and always pushed you to be a better version of yourself. Many a time I spent in Gramps kitchen, listening to him tell stories of film sets and the soaring lives of Hollywood’s finest.

My greatest regret was not asking him about his life when I had the chance. For no one bothered to, he was always just there, woven into the fabric of our lives. None of us really knew anything about him and the questions that had always lingered in the back of my mind resurfaced.

There were other things in the album, ticket stubs and dried flowers and a million other keepsakes. But what seemed to feature most prominently was a young man who looked to be about the same age as Gramps. He had a shy smile and a tentative look in his eyes. He was very handsome.

It seemed that he was also an actor and that at one point worked on a film with Gramps. There was a photograph of a cluster of smiling people and at the very center was the shy handsome man. His gummy smile was breathtaking but he was looking at someone or something out of frame.

As I looked through the rest of the album, a thick packet of letters fell to the floor. They were tied together by a faded red ribbon and at a glance I could see neat loopy script. I knew instinctively that these were all from the handsome man with the gummy smile.

My mind raced with a thousand questions and I burned with a longing to read them yet a sense of wrongness pervaded me. I would be intruding on my grandfather’s privacy. There was a secret buried here that much was true. For now I tuck the album under my arm and make my way downstairs.

___________________

Inspired by this post by @bigassbowlingballhead

I have absolutely no idea how I went from making a silly little edit to having an entire backstory to the silly little edit.

This also broke an almost 3 year streak of no writing. I don't think this is my best work, I'm rusty like an old bicycle but I'm quite surprised I managed to write something. So thanks for that Jon!

This is also by the way heavily inspired by a Danielle Steel novel I once read that I cannot remember the name of. In that story it featured a box, a locket and a packet of letters.

This is literally titled Hot Gramps on my laptop. You can click on the images to make it bigger.

Also did you know that the SAG was founded in 1933? And AFTRA was founded in 1952 but the two only merged in 2012. And that the first Emmy Awards were held in 1949?

[six-white-venus]

MY FAVORITE WORD EVER

rot

OR!!

gone

you find my corpse on a bright summer morning.

you break into my freezing cabin with a raised eyebrow. unphased. curious. then, a slow smile appears. i am immediately wary.

it has been years since i’ve had visitors in my humble abode and i like it that way. the cold keeps me safe. my body rots like a bruise swells; slow, painful, with withering purples and blues. it stretches the time of my body in this land into an endless limbo that i clutch with my cold, dead hands. my heart is still and i am numb, have been so for a long, long time. i am safe.

you find my corpse on a summer morning and stomp into my home/hell with eyes ablaze and teeth flashing and if i was alive, my heart would’ve seized at the sight. you lug my body to my backyard, unflinching. the sun burns my skin and everything hurts and i want to kick and scream and thrash in your hold because you idiot, you stupid motherfucker, don’t you know the rot sets in faster when life is around?

but dead men don’t scream, don’t move. you drop me on the grass with heaving breaths and all i could do is burn while the cicadas sing of my second demise. then, you start talking.

you tell me about your day and ask me about mine and barrel on when all you’re met with is silence. you tell me of the sky, the wind, and your favourite sundress. you must be insane. out of your fucking mind. don’t you see this rotting vessel of mine? my unseeing gaze and blue lips and cracking skin? don’t you smell the rot, the death? you surely do. then why aren’t you running? no, stop. stop moving closer. you madman, leave me in this wretched place. the warmth of your touch will only make me fester, don’t you see?

but you stay. you tell me how the crisp apple bursts into a delightful sweetness when you sink your teeth into it and pull my head to your lap. you tell me about your mom’s cooking and let my cold seep into your skin. my mouth is sewn shut and you are holding me so gently and i want to scream for mercy, for an ounce of cruelty. give me back my home, you villain. give me back my hell.

ice melts. the heat thaws my flesh and the rot digs into my body with its talons unsheathed and merciless. you pitch a tent next to my body and spend your nights here. night after night, i listen to the lull of your heart and watch the rise and fall of your chest as my body breaks itself down from inside out. i am warm.

and you, stubborn, baffling, ethereal you; you stay. the next day and all the days after that. the stench is getting unbearable now. i can see it in your eyes, in every ragged breath of yours. a corpse will remain a corpse no matter how much it is loved. there are only so many stories you can tell without gagging at the sight of this monstrosity. the sun always sets. stories end. love lives where life does. your kindness never did have a place between my blackened teeth and diseased heart, my dear.

but you come back with a gentle brush of lips against my decaying forehead. your hand cradles my rotten head. my sweet warmth, there you are. won’t you leave?

you won’t, right?

you dig my grave all by yourself. six feet deep, seven feet tall because you want me to be comfortable. what a useless gesture. i learn love feels like the glow of the moon and feather soft touches and a grave dug with bare hands.  you lift me in your arms, careful not to jostle me too much, lest i fall apart. kindness feels like a siren’s lullaby and i can feel my eyes droop. it’s dangerous and so very beautiful.

things are different in my new home. numbness feels so far away. there is life thrumming in my veins and eating away at my flesh. you bring me flowers everyday- chrysanthemums, dandelions and tulips- you tell me they remind you of me. how foolish. how very wonderful.

soon, i will bloom into all the flowers you can dream of from this very earth you laid me in. soon, i will rise, petals unfurling, laugh booming. i will weave myself in your braids and take root in your chest and spread down to the very tips of your fingers. my darling, my sun, my rose; i promise i will find you on a bright summer morning.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

What is your attachment style & what do you think is the best complimentary style for you?

I have the worst one of them all imo, which is anxious avoidant 🥲 basically a blend of anxious and avoidant tendencies (tho I lean more avoidant). The reason I think it sucks the most is bc these attachment styles are working against each other constantly, so you want closeness w people but you’re also really claustrophobic about it. You’re polarized in both directions & it manifests in inconsistent behavior towards others.

I hate self-help books w a passion, but I did actually read a whole book on attachment styles a couple years ago, back when I thought I didn’t need therapy and could just resolve it all by myself (did not happen lmao). It was written by someone w a PsyD, so I think it was relatively more credible than if it had been written by some fraudulent self-book guru. I also verified w my therapist later that the theory wasn’t just pop psych drivel. It was pretty helpful tbh, but it’s been around for a while so it would be cool if it got supplanted w a theory that relies on more modern research

And I think any attachment style is most complementary w a securely attached person, but obviously most people aren’t just 100% secure—so maybe someone who’s just closer to secure attachment than you are?? Which I unfortunately don’t even adhere to, bc I find myself gravitating to avoidant people more often than not <3 we’re a work in progress it’s fine

[hypmicdaydreams]

is anyone still in the mood for a hypmic imagines blog these days lol

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

(it's may the 4th?!)

may the fourth be with you! enjoy: ashla from my fic orderly facade, a few months after the first chapter

also a version without the scarf/shawl/head scarf

this was actually a redraw from some old colored doodles I did back in 2022 (I will probably make a comparison bc the gap between the two is something that astounds me)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also "textless" versions of these, wahooo

[ultimateloserboy]

idk if ive talked about this before but sometimes loving dhmis like actually makes me upset because its one of those internet things that wasnt popularized for the thing itself but for the really fucking shitty youtube theories about it

nobody ever knows what theyre talking about if theyre not directly in the fandom, and sometimes when it gets popular again that IS the fandom— people who literally watched the show with their eyes on a different screen explaining it to them completely incorrectly.

the whole point of the show is to experience it yourself— which was completely stripped away when fucking mathew patrick wanted to make up some shit about fathers day or something, which to this day is genuinely a WIDELY accepted thing!!!!!!

it actually makes me want to cry and i know thats stupid or whatever but this show is so very important to me and nobody fucking CARES. id rather it just not be popular, genuinely. because nobody even actually supports it, they just say “haha nastalgia” and then let the creators go another 9 years without funding because nobody actually watched the show like they SAID they did.

im supposed to be happy when i see the characters referenced but i just cant be because like. thats not even him. you dont know what youre talking about. and itd normally be fine, but with dhmis specifically its not just common, its the norm for this show. thats why its such a problem to me.

i will never forgive the internet for treating it the way it STILL does. like ever. its not the biggest deal but god. ITS NOT FATHERS DAY AND ITS NOT A GOD DAMN TIME LOOP. if you actually ever watched it WITHOUT the influence of some internet theory loser, you wouldve never even fucking thought that because IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE!!!!!!!!!

i know i only feel this way because of some undiagnosed neurodivergent thing making me feel too connected to this shit probably, but i still feel theres validity there. especially when it comes to the horror community, because people let theory youtubers run their shit like a bitch. dhmis is just the worst victim to me

(full disclaimer if you are one of the people who believes this stuff im not mad at you specifically— the widespread misconceptions bother me but im aware thats not your fault as an individual. sorry if this comes off as me being an asshole to random ppl online but im really tired and upset, this isnt a targeted thing. EXCEPT FOR YOU MATHEW PATRICK!!!!!!!)

[kanamesengoku]

till all the seas run dry

"Oi! Are you Shimotsuki?" Turning to his left, he squinted a bit against the sun and leaned over the railing to see a young man around his own age, dark hair mussed and a huge duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His face was open and friendly and his bright eyes stared up at Zoro expectantly. "No, uh… she's in the shop," he offered, gesturing vaguely downwards towards the door. Then, his brain catching up, he continued, "are you… Garp's… new tenant?" Apparently the boy found the question amusing, because his face split into a huge grin and he broke into a peal of laughter. "Haha, yeah, I guess that's me!" he stated, still smiling up at Zoro. For some reason, it made Zoro want to smile back.

Roronoa Zoro, university student and florist, meets someone for the first time that he already knows.

-- relationship: monkey d. luffy/roronoa zoro rating: explicit word count: 27,976 chapter count: 7 tags: modern au, flower shop au, zoro is good at math, too many hidden references, mentioned nami/vivi, mvp sanji, developing relationship, angst and fluff and smut, most of the strawhats are just cameos so don't read specifically for them lmao, minor spoilers through wano act 1