30s | she/her | aro-spec & ace | This is for super random stuff. No method or reason. Just whatever strikes my fancy. Mostly reblogs. And the occasional pic of my cat. Writing blog is Wolfjackle-Creates
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Sometimes I just sit and think about how Aziraphale and Crowley spent several years giving some ordinary human kid THE weirdest possible upbringing of all time.
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One time my friend Lia went to go snack on a pickle before dinner. I’m not sure what’s normal obviously, especially regarding pickles, but in Lia’s household they came out at dinner time and the jar was set on the table to be enjoyed as a side dish.
So Lia’s illicit trip to the pickle jar was made somewhat sneakily while both parents were occupied. What she drew forth some kind of little freak pickle because the inside was very soft. So soft, in fact, that Lia suctioned the inner flesh right out without doing more than nibbling one end open.
What was left was a pickle imposter. An outer skin with all the semblance of a pickle whose inner flesh had been sucked as dry as Dracula’s latest victim. Then Lia decided to commit to the bit. She put the emptied ersatz pickle back in the jar.
Then she waited.
It took two nights for her father’s fingers to lay claim to the prank pickle. Unsuspecting he reached into the jar and chose the booby trap, not noticing the nibbled end. He bit into the pickle and was astonished to find it empty.
The whole family was flabbergasted by the empty pickle, inspecting all the rest for a similar defect, but no, the jar had just that one hollow pickle. Lia sat through dinner straight faced and stoic, bottling up her hilarity as her family speculated wildly about the event.
The hollow pickle became part of her family’s lore and was brought up intermittently over the years. Lia never told them it had been her. Instead each time the topic came up she had a private internal laugh and the mystery remained unsolved.
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I honestly feel like the proliferation of LED headlights was the canary in the coalmine for the general attitude we see in the political climate these days and i'm not even remotely kidding
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Good morning Amity Park, I'm your ghostly weatherman, Lance Thunder. Today's Thursday, November 21, and there's a 90% chance of rain and snow. Highs are in the low forties, and the lows are in the low thirties.
No ghost attacks were reported last night, but a humanoid low level ghost was seen earlier this morning in North Middle School. Thankfully, this ghost did not attempt to harm anyone or destroy anything. It simply left of its own free will.
Many businesses on Main Street have decided to do Black Friday a week early. Be sure to check any stores you plan on buying from to see whether the sales will be tomorrow or next week.
The Fentons will likely be driving today.
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Typical role dustribution
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one of the more interesting gender selectors i've seen
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PUNK PSA:
Please don’t put anything too political on your back patches— especially about your own marginalized experiences.
This has been a long standing rule in punk communities, passed down for generations. People do get jumped and experience violence as a result of this. You can’t see who is behind you, you can’t tell if they’re far right, and you can’t prepare yourself for sudden violence from behind.
So many people are new to the scene, introduced via social media, and don’t know the weight of walking with something on your back (literally and metaphorically) that immediately outs you as marginalized. If you’re able to defend yourself, or out with friends who can watch your back, by all means go for it and wear whatever you want on your back patches but if you walk alone at all ever, please be safe.
Also this is why punks wear spikes and studs on our shoulders especially. Makes it harder for someone to grab you and works as self defense (but also never wear spikes at a small show or if you plan to mosh— people can get hurt!).
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I love me a fantasy monster-slaying greatsword, but the historical greatsword has a pretty badass purpose too!
Art refs, tutorials and more!
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sleeping beauty (available in print!)
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Sigh. My favorite babygirl 😔🙌
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thinking fondly of you<3 want to ditch the kids and go to a winery this weekend? (drink some red wine(supernova))
also thinking fondly about jaytim. specifically, about how oftentimes we think of them as a slow burn… but you know what might make them a fast burn (an explosion?)?
one of them gets kidnapped and everyone thinks they’re dead:( but then they’re alive
Always, love, I'm sure they'll be happy to spend some time with their favorite familial babysitters, I'll give them a call tonight🍷💥
And OUGH. Yes. SUCH a classic action hero hurt/comfort trope, I'm always here for mortal peril being the trigger that forces a couple to realize what they mean to each other and that they WANT to take that chance!!
I am reminded strongly of one of feyburner's comics that I love so much... in this comic they were hooking up beforehand and this is the scenario that like. Makes it emotionally REAL for Tim and i love that sooo much... but also OwO
thinking about The Scenario:
One of them is kidnapped. Due to inspo in part from feyburner's comic, I'm thinking Jason. But it's been so long/the method in which he was taken leads everyone to believe that Jason's dead. EVERYONE. Tim included. Thinking that he's dead hits Tim harder than expected. Why? It doesn't make sense. I didn't even like him that much, what the fuck.
But he goes after the bastards who did it twice as hard, ridden by this sharp grief he didn't know he would feel. He's on a warpath. He's chasing down leads, shaking down goons, snapping at everyone that it doesn't matter that Jason's already dead this is about justice this is about vengeance this is about preventing it from happening again-- and finally finds the Organization's big base. Their big HQ.
Methodically he goes about tearing it down, one-man guerrilla style. As he moves through the complex, KO'ing goons, sabotaging weapons and computers, hell he might even rig this place to blow--
He picks up chatter about moving the 'livestock' and 'dealing with the troublemaker' and figures there must be human prisoners here. Possibly trafficking victims. He's been raising all kinds of hell, and security is just now going on alert as they find the evidence of his entry--
--when over one of the radios on the goons he just took out, Tim hears a very familiar and very alive voice taunting the Organization that he's out. They should have killed Jason when they had the chance.
Tim immediately factors Jason and the victims into his plans, gets in contact with Jason over the radio (full mission mode, no time for feelings or explanations yet) to work together on bringing this place down.
So by the time things are cleared up-- bad guys busted, victims rescued, base blown to smithereens-- Tim has been wildly coming to grips with the fact that Jason is alive after all and the confusing rush of emotions that's inspired in him, but Jason still has no idea that everyone thought he was dead.
So when Tim finally sees Jason in person, missing half his gear and still wearing the clothes he was snatched in, dirty and bloody and asking what took him so long-- he's not exactly thinking clearly, okay? Kissing him was a purely adrenaline/relief fueled action.
"Woah," Jason breathes once Tim gives him the chance. "What was that for?" "Thought you were dead," Tim muffles against the skin of Jason's throat. His pulse beats hard against Tim's cheek, his lips, sternly refuting the allegations. "Oh," Jason says, bowled over and bewildered. He's still holding Tim with an arm around his waist, his other hand cupping the back of his head, big and steady. "Well. I'm not." Tim squeezes tighter, his fists trembling in the back of Jason's shirt. Jason is solid, and warm, and alive-- and Tim might be in love with him. "Yeah," he apologizes. "Sorry. Had to check." Tim's clearly stumped him. "Huh." Tim doesn't let go. But neither does Jason. Jason clears his throat. "You know, I don't have the best track record with being alive after all," he says in a rambling tone so casual it makes Tim's chest hitch. "You maybe wanna... check again?"
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He was WORRIED !!
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I love old union songs because it's like this fucking asshole was a scab so we fucking threw him in the river and he broke his spine and when he went to heaven he was scabbing on the angels so they fired him down to heaven and the devil was like you have to work in hell for being a dirty scab
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