#image is small and unreadable on purpose

[motherboardmania]

ank and posty have existed for less than 12 hours and i just infodumped this much (PLUS MORE) in a friends dms. newt i know you asked me if i had more stuff about them but i am So Sorry for underestimating my infodumping power and also for underestimating the amount of stuff i left out of the tumblr post

#image is small and unreadable on purpose #bc. possible spoilers for the comic im very likely going to make about them #almost 1.5k word ramble. on accident #THIS IS SILLY BY THE WAY. im very happy to infodump about things i enjoy #but holy shit. Oops. That is a lot

[starcrossed-sky]

Hey Twitter(/Reddit) alternative seekers

Okay, fandom. Everyone's all worked all the time about this or that new alternative to Twitter and how it's either awesome or it sucks. I'm here to tell you about an OLD alternative: Plurk.

(Note that this was originally formatted for Twitter so forgive the jank thread paragraphing)

Disclaimer: This information is specifically aimed at people who use Twitter for fandom purposes; it is not intended to cover the exhaustive list of things that people use Twitter for (professional networking, art/photography promotion world news, etc). It's friend-centric rather than follow-centric, at least as the existing site culture goes.

So what is Plurk? It's a threaded microblogging platform dating back to 2008 that has only ever seen extremely niche use in English-language use. (Its primary userbase is Chinese-speaking.) It has a purely chronological timeline and a lot of privacy features that you haven't seen since the LJ era (assuming you're old enough to remember that).

Plurk functions through an exclusively-chronological timeline on your homepage (desktop) or in the app. Algorithmically sourced content? We ain't got it! (There is a different page for viewing top content but you have to go there specifically.) Instead, your timeline shows your own content and the content of other plurkers you friend or follow, and the occasional ad (MUCH more occasional than Twitter).

Each top-level plurk can be replied to, and this creates a chain of replies that can be used for conversation. Unlike Twitter and Reddit, replies don't form branching threads; each plurk is only one stream of conversation. Plurks with unread replies will be lit up as unread; however, they can be "muted" to stop them from giving you notifications.

(Two small caveats: You cannot mute your own plurks, and there is actually a cap of around 200 muted plurks. Mutes will fall off from the oldest, so you'll sometimes see an ancient plurk pop back up on your timeline if someone comes back to it. You can just mute it again.)

Your plurk timeline has a global privacy control. If your timeline is set to private, only people you have friended can see what you say on there. If your timeline is public, then anyone who comes to you page can see what you've posted, AND logged-in users can share your post on their own timeline with the "replurk" function (works just like a normal retweet), as well as reply to it.

There is also an "anonymous" option, which anonymizes you and also the names of everyone who replies (it randomly generates names like "lemon354" and "libra262" for repliers to differentiate them). Anonymous plurks will stay within your timeline if your plurk is set to private, but can be replurked if it's public.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE, because individual plurks can also be given specific privacy levels: -> Friends only (if your timeline is public but you don't want this one getting around) -> Private to "cliques," which are Twitter circles but you can have more than one -> Individual users (including those not on your friends list - this is plurk's equivalent of DMs)

Your own plurk homepage is also insanely customizable, if you want to break out the CSS or even just have a custom background. You can also alter your display name (though the character cap is VERY short), and your display name color, as well as the standard avatar change. Usernames cannot be changed as a free user, but can be changed by paid users (more on paid options in a second).

Plurk also has its own image hosting, and a pastebin-alike plaintext called Plurk Paste that has no character limit. (The character limit for top-level plurks is longer than Twitter's.)

It also has CUSTOM EMOTES in addition to its (somewhat wild) default selection. They're similar to Discord's customs, except that you can use GIFs from the get go; what's restricted is the number of slots you have as a free user. (And size is capped at 48x48 px.)

Plurk has ads, but they're mostly unobtrusive (and can be clocked entirely with ad blockers, but I didn't say that). Plurk keeps the lights on through a subscription model called Plurk Coin, which is very cheap (under $2.50 USD/month) and can be gifted to other users. Coin gives you a number of benefits including the "Except" privacy option, more username colors, response editing, and a bunch more custom emote slots.

Concerned about harassment? Plurk has one of the most robust blocking systems in social media that I've ever seen. You block someone, and they can't see you (even by going to your profile) and you can't see them. That's it, done. Full no-contact.

NSFW/18+ content is allowed. There's a specific flag for it when you first post a plurk. Plurk does expect you to use that tag when appropriate, but is otherwise very forgiving of NSFW content, at least in my experience. (Again, though, English plurk is a very small community ATM).

The thing to remember about Plurk is that it is very much a remnant of an older internet, from the days before algorithms. Like Tumblr, it's a social media where you won't see anything if you don't reach out to follow and friend people. It predates "going viral" as a goal of internet usage. The goal is to talk to people.

As an aside: Since I originally wrote this up, I've seen rumors about Japanese fanartists moving to plurk and even seen one or two mentions of it in the wild on my Twitter timeline as people talk about following those artists. Fantastic! If that's you, then I hope you find this slightly more in-depth guide to features helpful.

If this sounds up your alley, I've made a public plurk specifically for Twitter refugees to come meet people and get more information on how plurk works! You can find it here.

Twitter version: [link]

Please replurk to spread this information about!

#plurk #social media #twitter exodus #reddit exodus #twitter

[chalkscene]

tokyo revengers ⇢ “JUST A LOOK FROM YOU, I COME UNDONE” ft. ran haitani

song: 4 ever 4 me by demi lovato

wc: 1k

warnings: none except maybe ran is a little ooc

note: this is for @iitoshi’s the only truth is music collab. sorry for being late but thank you for letting me join!! happy new year <3

“there. all done,” you finally speak, though softly, after a stretch of silence and with a careful touch, you run your thumb along the bandage over the deep wound on ran’s eyebrow.

“thanks,” he mutters.

you’d think he’d be used to obtaining some cuts and bruises by now but from the moment he got home from a gang brawl tonight, all you’ve sensed from him is the absence of his familiar smugness and nonchalance—paradoxically speaking—as he looks a bit more pained than usual and you hate it.

you hate seeing him like this.

you look around the room in search for anything to lighten the mood when you see, propped up right in a corner is his baton.

in a lightbulb moment, you shoot up from your seat, excitement tingling at your fingertips as you stride across the room to retrieve your boyfriend’s weapon. you anticipate it to be heavy in your hand but surprisingly, you lift it with enough ease.

when you finally get a good look at it, you immediately notice the scratches on the surface—some more visible than the others—and the material has lost its shine, too. but despite the quality deteriorating from years of usage, you can only assume it still does the job to ran’s standard as he carries it around with him to this day.

you’re certain he used it tonight but you don’t focus on that. you have a different purpose in mind.

“ran, look.”

at the sound of your voice, he spins in his seat and as soon as his eyes land on you, you fix your stance and raise the baton. with a grin, you begin to twirl it in your hand like a majorette.

for a moment, ran only looks at you with the most unreadably impassive expression you’ve ever seen him pull off but you don’t get a chance to decipher it as a ghost of a smile soon appears on his lips.

it’s working, you think.

“you’re gonna hurt yourself.” his warning comes out halfheartedly, amusement now written all over his face.

“i won’t.” you beam with pride as you refuse to let it deter you but as if on cue, the weapon hits you just above your eyebrow. “shit.”

you hiss in pain, prompting you to drop the baton and let it clank on the floor. you expect ran to panic but he only pinches the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh then he gestures at you to walk back to your chair.

“told you so.” he sounds tired but looking closely, you notice his mouth is still quirked up at the corners—and smugly so—as he grabs the first aid kit to patch you up this time.

“shut up,” you grumble, slumping back into your seat. “you distracted me.”

he snickers. “just stay still.”

you take a deep breath, steeling yourself from the pain that may possibly come with the pressure from ran’s hand but as he begins to dab a small piece of cotton on your wound, there’s only a sharp sting from the disinfectant. it doesn’t last long though, as he gently blows on the small injury to soothe the pain.

right here, you see the difference between ran haitani and ran. just ran.

countless times you’ve witnessed his lips curl with sinister as the images of other people’s torment surely flashed in his mind. you’ve held his hands and wiped them clean of blood—and more often than not, it wasn’t his. but as he cradles your face in his palm, you realize that his iron fist has a polarizing featherlight touch, delicate and benign when he wants it to be.

either way, he makes you feel equally safe.

staring at your boyfriend’s face that is currently etched with focus, you take a mental picture of the situation—a notorious gangster tending to a civilian’s wound. you can’t help but find it hilarious.

“what’s so funny?” ran asks.

“we’re matching,” you reply with a giggle, pointing at the gauze on his eyebrow.

he can’t help but reciprocate your mirth with a chuckle of his own. “i can’t believe you’re enjoying this.”

“guess i got desensitized by dating a delinquent,” you retort. “you should put me in your gang. someone’s gotta help rindou cover your ass.”

“who did this to you again?” he presses a finger over your self-inflicted wound, applying just enough force to elicit a wince from you without hurting you severely. “not a chance.”

then there it is.

ran simply watches your irises glide along your upper lash line when you roll your eyes at his reply and as you soon fixate on his purple ones, staring right into his soul, he can only find the love you hold for him in each sparkle of your eye.

and if each sparkle were a star, your eyes would be an endless vast of a twinkling sky—infinitely more than ran knows he deserves and yet, it’s a constellation that’s just for him to see.

ran’s never been one to thank a higher power for being alive but in that moment, he finds himself doing so.

maybe it’s his whole life being tangled up in delinquency that made him too reckless, too bold for his own good but death was never his biggest fear. maybe he never feared it at all.

before he met you. before he found something—someone—to protect that wasn’t just him and his brother. before he found the one person who managed to blunt all his edges.

as the mere thought of it terrifies him still to an unfamiliar extent, he comes to an epiphany that he’s been wary of the wrong people this whole time.

it’s you who will be the death of him.

“earth to ran…” your voice snaps him out of his reverie. “you okay?”

and just like that, his heartbeat picks up the pace like it’s the first time all over again.

it’s so uncharacteristic of him, he thinks. not even a matter of life or death has ever made every nerve in his body go haywire yet you did it with the utterance of his name alone, its cadence so smooth and melodious.

“yeah,” he tells you anyway. “i feel better.”

#tokrev #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #tokrev fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #tokrev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani #ran haitani fluff #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader

[lilaccrxsh]

Fight and Fall in Love - 1986!Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader (18+)

Description: You and Pete Mitchell had mutual friends in the Bradshaw's, but whenever you were together all you would do is argue and rile the other person up. That was until Carole decided something had to be done...

Content warnings: unprotected sex, enemies to lovers, arguing, “there was only one bed”, 100% self-indulgence from the author

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: Honestly guys, this was just incredibly self-indulgent. Unfortunately, young TC/1986!Mav is literally my perfect type so I'm blaming everything on that. *posts this and runs*

Thank you to @unmistakablyunknown for being my beta and removing my dyslexia from the google doc &lt;3

You had known Carole Bradshaw before she even became Carole Bradshaw. You’d been friends since middle school, growing up and facing all of the adventures life throws at you together. When she met Nick, or “Goose”, you were her maid of honour at their wedding. Carole was really one of your closest friends.

“Have you decided what you want to do for your birthday?” Goose was sitting with his arm around his wife, her smaller body curled into the side of him on the sofa. Bradley was asleep upstairs, so the house was silent and dark apart from the talking and images from the tiny television. 

“I think I just want something nice and small. Maybe just have friends over for dinner. Bradley can be involved then too.” Carole replied. 

“I like the sound of that. Who would you want to come?”

“I was thinking… just Y/N and Mav.” 

Goose peered down at Goose, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. 

“Why? I thought you wanted your birthday to be ‘nice’.” 

Carole laughed softly. “It will be. We need to get those two together in the same room so they can finally get over themselves.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“It’s so obvious that they’re attracted to each other.” Carole said plainly, “Whenever we all meet they can’t stop looking at the other constantly. They clearly like each other, they just don’t know what to do about it.” 

“Y/N and Mav!?”

“Yup.”

“But all they do is argue with each other?”

“Exactly.”

Carole just watched her husband as the penny dropped for him. 

“Oh…” 

“Uh-huh, so I think it’s only fair if we give them a little nudge, don’t you think?” 

“You’re the boss, honey.” Goose pressed a kiss to her hairline. “What did you have in mind?” 

~~~

You pulled onto the Bradshaw’s drive just as the roar of a motorbike engine cut off behind you. You didn’t even need to look in your rear view mirror to know who had just parked their bike right behind your bumper. 

For a moment you considered not even leaving your car. If this wasn’t for Carole’s birthday, you might have done. It would have been easy to just reverse back onto the road, even if you did take out the motorbike in the process. You didn’t dislike the sound of that. The only downside was damage to your car.

There was no point sitting there behind the wheel any longer. You grabbed your overnight bag off the passenger seat and climbed out. Standing before you was the one person you were hoping not to see tonight. 

Pete Mitchell looked exactly the same as the last time you’d met. Aviators covered his eyes, making his expression unreadable, his dark hair was still cut short for the navy, and he was wearing that patch-covered bomber jacket that was at least one size too big for him. Light washed jeans, a white T-shirt and that bomber jacket - was that all he ever wore? 

There was an awkward moment before anyone spoke. You just stood staring at each other. 

“No one told me you were coming.” Pete’s tone was neutral, apart from an underlying hint of annoyance. 

“No one told me you were coming.” You repeated. 

Again another moment of silence. You were the one to break it, slamming your car door closed and locking it. You stalked past him, marching up to the front door. Pete reached your side as you knocked on the door. You purposely stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence. 

When Carole opened the door, she seemed shocked but strangely delighted, to see you two standing together on her doorstep. You were welcomed inside, it was nice to be back at the Bradshaw’s again. 

Soon you found yourself standing in the hallway conjoining the living room and kitchen. Carole was busy going back and forth. 

“Why didn’t you say he was coming?” You hissed at her, stepping aside so she could walk past you with a bowl. 

“Would you have still come?” Carole raised her eyebrows at you, a twinkle in her eyes. 

“Yes, because I love you, but I would have liked a bit of warning.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Maverick isn’t that bad. He’s really great if you get to know him.”

“I think I already know enough…” Everytime you and Pete Mitchell were in the vicinity of each other it didn’t end wonderfully. One of you would end up taunting the other, resulting in a battle of wit and cynicism. No-one ever seemed to win. The residing dislike just seemed to continue to the next meeting. 

The man in question was too distracted at the moment to bother that you were standing in the doorway. He was crouched down, sitting back on his heels to fiddle around with little Bradley’s toy trains. The kid laughed as Pete imitated the sound of a train starting off, pushing it along the carpet as if it was chasing the engine Bradley was holding. 

“How can you dislike him, Y/N?” Carole was smiling widely, enjoying her husband’s best friend having a beautiful relationship with their son. You opted not to answer her. At that minute, you couldn’t conjugate a proper retort. In front of you was a side to Pete Mitchell that you hadn’t seen before - fun-loving and carefree. He’d always seemed put-out and on the offensive with you in the past. You wondered what it would be like to have a nice and pleasant conversation with him for once…

You only realised you’d been lost in thought, transfixed on the sight before you when Carole nudged your arm. She wore a knowing smile. 

“Help me with dinner?” 

~~~

The plan Carole had concocted involved you, Pete, and her guest bedroom. Her one guest room.  

So when the two of you were led into the guest room, the door closed behind you, you found yourselves on the same side… of one double bed. 

“This isn’t going to work.”

“I’m actually going to agree with you.”

Pete was the first to move from the doorway, scoping out the rest of the room and analysing the bed. There was no couch or anything alike. 

“Pete look, I’m not exactly delighted by this either.” 

He ignored what you’d said, instead rounding on you and asking a completely different question. 

"Why do you always call me 'Pete'? No one calls me that."

"Because that's your name, idiot. I'm not one of your flying buddies so why would I call you anything else."

Pete just shrugged, but the hard set of his jaw didn’t relax. Did he want you to call him Maverick? It seemed an odd way of showing so. 

"It's the night before Carole's birthday, are you really going to make a fuss?" 

He huffed, but conceded, dramatically throwing his bag onto the floor near the door. 

"I want the left side." Pete stalked over to the bed before flopping down on top of the covers, spreading out his legs the length of the bed and putting his hands behind his head. He pushed his aviators down over his eyes and then was silent. 

You stood, also still and silent, wondering whether or not you would be able to survive the night. But as you had said, both you and Pete were here for a reason and you both cared enough to not cause a scene. 

"I'm going to the bathroom." You told him, collecting your wash bag and sleepwear from your backpack. You received only an uncaring grunt from the man who you were meant to share a bed with tonight. 

You spent a decent amount of time out of the room in the hope that when you returned, Pete would have changed and maybe, if you were lucky, be asleep. 

Luck was not completely on your side. 

He had changed, or well, removed items of clothing. His bomber jacket and white t-shirt were laying in a heap by his bag. The only thing Pete was wearing when you re-entered the room were loose shorts. He was still lounged out on top of the covers, giving you no other choice than to stare at his incredibly well-sculpted torso. 

"Is that really what you're going to sleep in?"

It seemed Pete hadn't noticed your presence, as he jumped slightly when you spoke to him. He looked down his own body through the dark lenses of the aviators. Confusion covered his features as you could see the furrow of his forehead. When he let out a quick laugh, turning completely to you while smirking, did you realise you'd made a mistake. By commenting, you'd shown you cared in some capacity.

"Why? Too distracting for you, sweetheart?" Pete's grin was huge. 

Yes. 

"No."

"Sure." With that he took the aviators off, placing them carefully on the nightstand. 

You were still standing by the closed door, making no effort to join him. 

"Are you going to stand there all night? Some of us actually want to sleep."

"Has anyone ever told you you're an asshole?"

"Yes, frequently." 

Now he'd got rid of the glasses, you could feel his eyes following you as you circled the bed. He was still sporting that smug smirk. You cursed yourself for letting him get under your skin, and for showing him that he had done. 

You hesitated, hand resting on the covers, reluctant to pull them back and crawl under them. With Pete still lying on top of them, there would be no accidental touching. The sheets were crisp against your legs, part of you wished you’d packed longer pants to sleep in - not shorts. You lay on your back, not wanting to face Pete, or even turn away from him. You’d turned the ceiling light off before you came over, now the only light was from the lamp next to Pete. 

“Do you want me to turn this off?” He asked, as if he could read your thoughts. He still hadn’t moved. You hummed a response indicating that you did want him to. In the dark, maybe you could pretend he wasn’t there. 

Pete reached for the switch, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. Neither person spoke for a minute or two after that. Once your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, you could see the slow rise and fall of Pete’s chest as he breathed. You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were lying next to the man who you’d been at odds with for years… and he wasn’t wearing much at all. 

You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought at least once that Pete Mitchell was incredibly attractive. All of the times you’d been out with Carole and Goose, be it at a bar or just somewhere with Bradley in tow, Pete would have a chorus of females giving him attention. Through all of the petty comments you’d throw at each other, there was always a tiny part of you that wanted him to ignore them. Ignore them and continue bickering over whatever stupid thing was causing an feud that day. Could you even go as far to say you enjoyed fighting with him?

This might have been the longest time you two had been in the same room without a negative snipe. 

“That’s actually too cold.” Pete suddenly whined, shuffling the duvet from under him so you both were covered. You lay still, unable to move as you felt his knee bump against your left leg. Once he was settled, silence fell over the room again. You weren’t tired. The amount of adrenaline pumping through you would make sleep impossible. 

“Pete?” You’d spoken before you even realised what you were doing. Pete seemed as surprised as you. 

“Yes, Y/N?”

"I have a question."

"Ok..."

"Do you always wear the dog tag?"

You asked because a sliver of light was reflecting from the metal around his neck. 

There was a pause before Pete answered. "Yeah. It's who I am." 

You wanted to roll your eyes but in a way, it was sweet. And then you wanted to roll your eyes at the fact you thought something associated with Pete Mitchell was sweet. 

Instead of rolling your eyes, you actually rolled onto your side. Your arms were held to your chest. You were facing Pete now, but in the darkness of the room you could only see an outline of his features. It was unfair how good his side profile looked. 

“Can I ask you something else?” 

You felt the covers shift, the mattress moving under you as Pete mirrored your previous action. He was dangerously close now, lying on his side facing you. His body warmth was keeping the air beneath the duvet cosy. You wished you could see his eyes, you wanted to see how he was looking at you in the darkness.

“Go ahead.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t the Pete Mitchell you knew. In a single second his whole demeanour had altered. He was now soft and tender, encouraging this conversation that was the first of its kind.   

“What is flying like?” 

This brought a light laugh from the man lying opposite you, but it wasn’t malicious. 

“It’s the best feeling anyone could ever experience.”

“The best, huh?”

“Ok, maybe the second best.” 

This time you laughed together. It was unbelievably strange. How had you been arguing before, yet now you couldn’t think of anywhere you would rather be. But unlike the silence this afternoon out on the driveway, it was comfortable. You just wanted to lie there, perfectly content. 

You heard Pete take a deep breath before speaking, almost in a whisper, “I want you to know, Y/N, that I’m sorry, for how I’ve spoken to you in the past.”

You bit down hard on your lip. 

“I’m sorry too. It’s all water under the bridge now.” 

“In truth…” Pete started to say something but he trailed off. 

“Yeah?” You prompted him, your heart beating fiercely in your chest. 

“I…” He couldn’t seem to say whatever he wanted to. After he had failed the second time, he decided actions might be better than words. You felt  the pad of his thumb touch your jaw. 

When you didn’t flinch, Pete brought his hand to rest. His palm cupping your jaw, his thumb gracing your cheek. You couldn’t help but relax into him, humming in content. When Pete heard you, his hand left your face and moved to the small of your back, bringing you across the sheet to him. The only thing between you was the thin fabric of your top. The one thing better than seeing Pete’s naked chest, was being pressed up against it. 

“Is this ok?” 

You were barely audible as you whispered a “yes”. Every part of your skin that was touching Pete’s felt like it was on fire, and every part that wasn’t, was still burning with an unbelievable intensity. 

“God you’re so beautiful, Y/N. You don’t know how hard it’s been to be around you and not be able to tell you that.”

He was tracing your face, his thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, fingertips nestling into your hair behind your ear. When you felt his lips on your forehead you sank into him, pushing your hips against his, wrapping your right leg over him. Pete kissed your forehead, both your cheeks, your jaw… and then your lips.

Your lips were barely touching at first, gracing each other in another attempt to gain consent. You’d be damned if you waited another second to kiss Pete Mitchell. You hadn’t realised for how long you’d wanted him in this way. The all consuming need to be needed, wanted, loved by him. 

When you kissed, it was impossible not to react. Your leg linked around his became wrapped around his waist. His hand came to squeeze your thigh, holding your bare skin against the muscles of his back. 

In a split second, Pete was on top of you. 

"Are we really doing this?"

"Yes we are."

You wanted to touch him. You wanted him to touch you, everywhere. It didn’t matter where his hands were, or how his weight felt on top of you, it was never enough. It would never be enough. Your own hands were grasping at his back, feeling the lean muscles tense and relax under your fingertips. 

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.” Pete didn’t stop kissing you, moving down your neck and collarbones. 

“I need you, Pete. Anything. Fuck me. Just touch me.” You were moaning incoherent thoughts as he sucked on one specific place under your ear. Pete’s low laugh against your skin when straight to your core. 

“As you wish, sweetheart.” 

Your hips rose completely off the bed as you felt his hand breach the waistline of your shorts. You were sensitive, all of Pete’s previous exploration of your frame had done its job. Pete found your clit, delicately circling it as you mewled under him. Your hips bucked again, uncontrollably and with force. 

“Careful, baby.” Pete cooed, steading your waist by shifting his weight. Pete’s intention was to turn you on enough that he could fuck you easily, but it would seem he didn’t have to do anything more. You were writhing already, and when he put one finger inside of you, you could do nothing but stifle an inaudible sound into his shoulder. 

Pete was in awe of your reaction. How responsive you were to him was even more of a turn-on than he could ever imagine. He helped you remove your shirt, and then take your shorts down over your legs. He threw the items out of bed. 

“You need to get these off, now.” You ordered, claiming some control over your own actions. Pete helped you fumble with his shorts, and soon neither of you were wearing anything. 

“Please?” In any other situation you would be embarrassed by how desperate you sounded. But this time, you didn’t care. 

The feeling of Pete inside you was intoxicating. Your legs were wrapped around his back, your arms around his neck. There was no possible way you could be any closer to each other. The way he continued to kiss you made up for all the times you hadn’t been with each other. With every peck, moan, movement, the tension that had built up between you two disappeared. 

“Y/N…” 

You loved how Pete said your name. It was becoming impossible to think straight. All your thoughts were centred on the feeling at your core, the mounting pressure that wasn’t ceasing. 

"Maverick…"

Pete’s call sign fell from your lips instinctively. Through the darkness you heard him gasp, followed by a filthy moan before he thrust into you again, hard. 

Your face was sheltered in the crook of Pete’s neck, so any sound you made was muffled. It was becoming very difficult to not cry out. You were so close too, it wouldn’t be long before you would come. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you-” But whatever Pete was going to say was overshadowed by the beginning of your orgasm. You began shuddering against him, moaning pitifully as you hit your peak. Simultaneously, it became too much for Pete. You both rode out your highs together, unable to pull away. 

You felt empty when Pete rolled off you, but you weren’t without contact for long. Pete lay on his back, you curled into his side, hand resting above his heart. He was holding your hand, your fingers intertwined on his chest. 

All that was heard throughout the room was the sound of heavy breathing. It was a few minutes before either of you were able to speak. 

“You called me Maverick.” He breathed.

"I did." The sultry tones in your own voice were a shock even to you. You leant forwards, taking the soft skin of his ear in your teeth. "Now, show me again why that's your call sign." 

~~~

The next morning, you and Pete walked into the Bradshaw’s kitchen together. Pete’s arm was around your waist, his hand resting on your hip bone. It felt so natural, you wished you’d done this before. 

Goose made an inhuman noise, pointing excitedly like a child at you and Pete. He was flitting between gaping at his two best friends and looking astonished at his wife. Carole was just smiling incessantly. 

What you and Pete didn’t know was that you'd unknowingly given Carole the best birthday present she could want. 

Masterlist

#lilaccrxsh #top gun #top gun fic #top gun x reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader

[anonymouspuzzler]

oh baby it is WIGGLE WEDNESDAY (note: still do not know when these are going to queue up). also, Gramble is here! these two have a fun dynamic and Wiggle especially is easy to put in Absurd Situations so there is a lot of good art of her. thanks again to @incorrectbugsnaxquotes for many inadvertent inspirations!

(alt text/image IDs under the cut!)

[Image 1 ID: Two small doodles of Wiggle. On the left is a shoulders-up drawing of Wiggle, smiling and waving with her left hand, with stars around her and text reading "the Wiggle of prosperity". On the right is Wiggle on her side, kicking one leg out and playing her banjo, with text reading "Happy WIGGLE WEDNESDAY (it's monday".]

[Image 2 ID: A drawing of Wiggle recreating the Sonic "alone on a friday night?" meme. She is on her side with her legs crossed, propped up on one arm with the other gesturing up, saying, "Alone on a Friday night? Thank you for practicing social distancing".]

[Image 3 ID: A drawing of Wiggle recreating a screenshot from Brian David Gilbert's "Unraveled". She is standing in front of a board with multiple slips of paper reading, top-to-bottom and left-to-right, "THE 10 DEFINITIVE PURPOSES OF MUSIC", "1. CREATE or CONTROL EMOTION", "2. REMEMBER OR SHARE INFORMATION", "3. ENTERTAINMENT", "4. JINGLES", "5. MARK TIME IN A GROUP", "6. [mostly cut off and unreadable]", "7. AMBIANCE", "8. CREATE OR MAINTAIN SOCIAL GROUPS", "9. [mostly cut off and unreadable] ". Wiggle is standing to the right, pointing up at #3, one hand on her hip and expression serious, saying, "Bangers only."]

[Image 4 ID: A 2-panel comic of Wiggle, recreating screenshots from Brian David Gilbert's "Unraveled". In the first panel, Wiggle is drawn from the waist-up, smiling cheekily at the camera, holding a mug in one hand while the other is on her hip, saying, "There's Red Bull in this mug." In the second, she is drawn from the knees-up, motion-blurred as she kicks high in the air with a manic grin, screaming "HIYA!"]

[Image 5 ID: A three-panel comic of Wiggle and Gramble. In the first panel, Wiggle is bent over whispering into a phone, looking worried, saying, "Darling, I need you to come pick me up right now." The journalist, represented by a little doodle of them from behind in a speech bubble, responds, "...why?" In the second panel, Wiggle is looking back over her shoulder at Gramble in the background, standing on a stepstool to grumpily wash dishes in a sink, as Wiggle whispers, "Gramble is passive-aggressively doing the dishes he asked me to do six hours ago." In the third panel, she's turned back to the phone, looking utterly terrified and whispering grimly, "This house isn't safe anymore."]

[Image 6 ID: Drawing of Wiggle in a lunge, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing around her. She is wearing an oversized baby carrier labeled "#1 BOYF CARRIER" in which Gramble sits with all his limbs limp, looking confused and slightly flustered. There are stars all around Wiggle along with cursive text reading, "fashion, bitch".]

[Image 7 ID: A doodle of Gramble sitting on Wiggle's shoulders, screaming "TOO HIGH TOO HIGH AAAAA" and rearing back in a panic, knocking her sunglasses away in the process. Wiggle, who has Gramble's panic-grip right over her eyes, is visibly grimacing.]

[Image 8 ID: A single-panel comic of Gramble and Wiggle. Gramble is sitting on the ground cross-legged, looking worried and saying, "I know you're deflectin' by makin' jokes about how hot you are--" Wiggle, kneeling next to him and clutching him tight with both arms, visibly ugly-crying, screams back, "IT'S NOT A JOKE. I'M A LEGIT SNACK".]

[Image 9 ID: Wiggle posing like a supermodel in a massive sunhat and tall platform heels with ankle straps. To her right is Gramble looking up starstruck and blushing, hands folded in front of his chest, with text next to him reading, "tall wonan."]

[Image 10 ID: A two-panel comic of Wiggle and Gramble. In the first, Wiggle is standing with one hand on her hip and the other on her chest, looking dismissively over her shoulder and saying, "Oh, come on, I wasn't that drunk." Gramble, standing next to her and looking up worriedly, responds, "You tried to color my face with a highlighter because you said I was important". In the second panel, Wiggle, clutching a flustered Gramble's head with both arms, retorts, "That's because you are."]

[Image 11 ID: A drawing of Wiggle and Gramble recreating that one meme with the tall woman. Wiggle is standing and speaking into a microphone in her right hand, while Gramble is stanced up to her left, staring up at her.]

[Image 12 ID: A drawing of Wambus, Wiggle and Gramble recreating a meme. Wambus is seen from the back in the far-left foreground of the image, while Wiggle, glaring sternly, is holding an anxious Gramble on her hip on her left side, pointing at Wambus with two fingers with her right hand.]

[Image 13 ID: A drawing of Gramble sitting on the ground with his hands on some kind of scratching post, rearing his head back to expose all his te Gramble eth.]

[Image 14 ID: A single-panel comic of Gramble and the Journalist. Gramble is sitting at a table with a striped tablecloth, head resting in one hand, looking lovestruck and saying, "Remember when Wiggle made that romantic dinner for me?" The Journalist, face obscured by steam from a hot drink, is walking over to the table placing one mug labeled "Do the Wiggle" down while holding another labeled "8 AM DEAD LINE". They respond simply, "...she microwaved you a pizza."]

[Image 15 ID: A three-panel comic of Wiggle and Gramble. In the first panel, they are sitting side-by-side on a bench, Gramble looking anxious, Wiggle looking flirtatious as she says, "Has anyone ever told you they love you?" In the second panel, Gramble, looking anxiously back, asks, "...Do my parents count?" In the final panel, Wiggle, leaning away slightly and looking worried, replies, "...yes.", to which Gramble, head in hands and looking miserable, says, "Then no."]

#Anonymous Puzzler art #bugsnax #wiggle wigglebottom #gramble gigglefunny #tw for swearing and mention of alcohol #wambus troubleham #bugsnax the journalist #incorrect bugsnax quotes

[rubyreduji]

i have nobody to tell my thoughts to… but ceo!woozi has been on my mind non-stop lately 🤭🤭 like do you know how hot sounds??? ugh.. it’s been plaguing my mind… or like being rival coworkers with him at a successful company 😩😩>>> i feel like you’d understand me tbh

[minors dni]

no because you are SO right like imagine young but strict jihoon who became a ceo early on in his career after the old one spontaneously retired to go live on an island and you've been with the company for a while now (at least long enough that you were there when the old ceo was in power) and despite being one of the best employees the company had jihoon hates you

you don't know why either, it's been like this since he got the job, shooting down your ideas, scoffing at your reports, always making you redo your projects, nothing you do can make him happy, in fact it does the opposite, everytime you interact with him a look of discontent settles deep onto his face

your breaking point is during your latest office meeting when jihoon not only makes an unnecessary comments about the state of your outfit, embarassing you in front of the whole room, but also he shoots down another one of your ideas only to accept an idea from your co-worker, an idea that you pitched last week that he turned down

at this point you can just tell that he's targetting you, that he has something against you when you've done nothing but being kind and hardworking

after the meeting you're fuming and you decide to storm right up to jihoon's office, not heeding the protests from his secretary

you walk right up to his office and fling the doors open to find jihoon sitting on a phone call

he flicks his eyes up at you before saying into the phone, "ah, something has come up, i'm sorry to cut this call short, yes sir, i'll call you later, yes, thank you," before placing the phone down and standing

he walks past you and looks out the door to his secreatary, "clear my schedule" and then he closes the doors

finally he turns to you, "mx. l/n do you know how incredibly rude and unprofessional it is just barge into my office and intterupt a very important business call" he's looking at you down his nose and you suddenly feel very small

you regain your composure and stare right back him "we need to have a talk, mr. lee"

"is that so?" jihoon tuts as he walks back over to his desk "so tell me y/n, what's wrong?"

you hate him so much, his cocky attitude and asshole demeanor

"you have been nothing but unkind to me since you've taken position and i demand that it stop. it's unfair and there is no real good reason for your mistreatment against me"

jihoon looks at you bored, "i have no clue what you are talking about. if you are just here to waste my time, then i suggest you get back to work"

you want to stamp your foot like a child but you know better than to throw a tantrum "sir, every meeting you shoot down my ideas only to accept them a week later by a different person. i do twice the work, if not more, than everyone else just because you make me redo every project i work on. i'm sick and tired of it and if it doesn't stop then i'll quit"

you didn't mean to say the last part, it just slipped out, but it seems that this statement takes jihoon's interest, the look on his face changing to something unreadable

slowly jihoon stands and walks over to you, despite his height he has a dominating presence as he stares at you with firey eyes in his crisp suit, he's the perfect image of power

"do you know why i do those thing to you?"

"because you have something against me, i'm not sure what, but you do, and you can't deny it"

"i do it you because you need it. you are one of the best employees here, which means we cannot risk your work quality decreasing. every comment, every redo, every shut down has a purpose my dear y/n. i push you do your best because i know you can be better. everytime you're put down you come back stronger. that's what's so fascinating about you" jihoon grabs your chin and forces you to look at him "do you understand now?"

his grip is tight, a bit painful, but you can't ignore the way it turns you on

you've always thought jihoon is incredibly handsome, too handsome for his own good, and you've shamefully has some thoughts about him before shooing them away, reminding yourself not only is he your boss but he's also a raging asshole

"you're such a good employee, so diligent and obedient, makes me wonder what you're like outside of work. i've always had my eye on you y/n, whether you realized or not. you allure me. so pretty" jihoon mutters as he strokes your cheek with his thumb

"j-jihoon"

"that's sir to you"

"t-this is very il-illegal" you stutter out, but you already know that he knows that

"i don't see you trying to make a break for it though, now do i?" he's right, you're too turned on now, desperate for him to continue "that's what i thought. on your knees, now."

you don't waste time kneeling down in front of him, the bulge in his pants apparent now that it's at eye level

"now be good and suck" jihoon unbuttons his pants and pulls his cock out and you quickly take him into your mouth

his hands grip tight into your hair as you bob up and down on his massive cock

you move your tongue to press against the bottom of his cock as you do your best to deep throat him, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you try not to choke

"that's it, so pretty like this, go good for me," jihoon coos as you continue to work at him, tears filling up in your eyes

it doesn't take long for jihoon to cum down your throat, groaning as he does, and you do your best to swallow down his cum

you're aching between your legs now as jihoon tucks himself back into his pants, you're a bit worried he's going to leave you as you are, but then he orders you to strip and lay down on his desk

his hands find your most sensitive area and he starts to play with you, you whimper as he touches you, feeling good but wanting so much more

you're just about to get off from jihoon's touch when he pulls away and you audibly whine, you're not left without his hand for long though because soon a finger is tracing your entrance before he slowly inserts one finger into you

his fingers are thick and strong and you can feel yourself stretch out as he pushes a second one in, thrusting into you a bit

"s-sir, please" you beg

"please what? use your words properly"

"please, n-need you to move more sir, harder, faster" you pant out

you hear jihoon chuckle a bit before he does just as you asked, digging his fingers into you even more, it doesn't take long for you to open up and he shoves a third finger into your stretched out hole

he picks up the pace of his fingers and quickly pistons in and out of you, his fingers curling right into your sweet spot, the wet sound of your hole filling the room

you're a mess now, whining and squirming around on his desk as he fingers you to completion, you climax with a loud moan of jihoon's name, your cum going everywhere

despite the mess jihoon smirks down at you, happy with a job well done

"you know y/n, you really have always been my favorite"

[sorry it took me so long to answer this and i know technically you didn't ask for a fic and technically im not taking request but yall know i cannot resist jihoon]

#rru.answers #anonymous #lee jihoon #woozi #woozi fanfic #woozi smut #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #woozi x reader #svt woozi #woozi x gn reader #gn reader #gn reader smut #rru.fics #rru.writes #★ mdni

[occasionaltirades]

Excerpts and Summaries of “From the Heart of Hell: Manuscripts of a Sonderkommando Prisoner“

Dear reader, I write these words in the moments of my greatest despair. I do not know, I do not believe that I will live to read these lines again, ‘after the storm’… It may be that this, these very lines I am writing, will be the only witnesses to what was my life. But I will be happy if my writings reach you, free citizen of the world. Perhaps a spark of my inner fire will ignite in you, and you will fulfill at least a part of our life’s desire: you shall avenge, avenge our deaths!

_______

Four years ago, I read an article. It was titled, “Becoming Anne Frank”, by Dara Horn, and appeared in the November 2018 issue of the Smithsonian Magazine, which is a fantastic publication that I highly recommend. You can find it in any library and subscriptions are very affordable. The older issues and articles (including the aforementioned) are also typically available online. Most people are familiar with Anne Frank and her diary, which was published by her surviving father and has been translated into 70 languages and sold more than 30 million copies. However, this post will not be about Anne Frank, because this article piqued my interest with the following paragraph:

The line most often quoted from Frank’s diary— “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart”—is often called “inspiring,” by which we mean that it flatters us. It makes us feel forgiven for those lapses of our civilization that allow for piles of murdered girls—and if those words came from a murdered girl, well, then, we must be absolved, because they must be true.

It posits that part of the popularity of the book is that it predates the time when Anne’s family was presumably sold out, and by people who probably received a reward of approximately $1.40 per Jew. It continues:

Readers know that the author was a victim of genocide, but that does not mean they are reading a work about genocide. If that were her subject, it is unlikely that those writings would have been universally embraced.

The article mentions other writers, but the one that has compelled me is Zalmen Gradowski. He was a writer that they correctly bet I had never heard of, and whose work I was luckily able to obtain, but only by ordering it from the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum, paying for postage from Poland, and hoping it wouldn’t get lost in a lengthy transit. A far cry from a trip to a bookstore or library, where you could hopefully still easily procure a copy of one of the books that many of us may be familiar with from our time in school. In addition to the quotations at the top, Gradowski wrote the following:

This is the real reason why I write – that my condemned life may attain some meaning, that my hellish days and hopeless tomorrows may find some purpose in the future.

Having read these words, I wished to share with you some of what he wrote so that they may reach more people. So that his words may be immortalized in more minds. So that you too can bear some witness to what he says is, “merely a small part of the hell of Birkenau-Auschwitz. It is for you to imagine the reality[…]” “[so] that you will be able to form an image of how the children of our people perished.”

First, let me warn you that the following will not be pleasant. Zalmen Gradowski was forced to work in the Sonderkommando, made to escort prisoners and process bodies. He did not survive, dying in a courageous but unsuccessful prisoner revolt. He wrote on what he could and buried his writings in cans in the camp. His writings were retrieved by a surviving friend, but were damaged, and there are gaps in the text where parts were lost or unreadable. As such, most of what follows will be direct quotations, but may include some guessed words on the part of the compiler or myself. In some places [--] will denote a gap in the text. In parts where I have chosen to skip forward, the ellipses will also be in brackets. This is another reason I wished to post this; the book can be as physically difficult to read as it is emotionally, and I want people to be able to experience at least some of it. For both his sake, and for all our sake in this new year. If you’re interested in that Smithsonian article, here is a link:

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/becoming-anne-frank-180970542/

___________________ Zalmen spent just shy of two years in the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp. He and his family had been considering emigrating to Palestine before war broke out, but after the outbreak of war, Poland was quickly occupied and he, his wife, parents, and two brothers and three sisters were all trapped. During the initial occupation, Zalmen did what he could to help his fellow Jews as the head of the medical and health department of the ghetto's Judenrat ("self-administrating" groups coercively formed by the Nazis to administer the closed-off Jewish populations). He continued to try and help as a member of a health group when they were initially moved to a transit camp where they were held without electricity or heating, and epidemics naturally raged. On December 8, 1942, they were moved to Birkenau where the SS carried out a selection wherein his wife, his mother, sisters, as well as his father and a brother-in-law were immediately murdered. Due to his physical condition, he was selected as a member of the Sonderkommando on December 9, in order to replace the 400 Sonderkommando that had been murdered that same day in the gas chamber of Crematorium I. Being a member of this group allowed him (and others) some ability to smuggle goods such as food to other prisoners, and to bribe guards with personal effects left behind by those murdered in order to lessen the suffering of those guarded. It is, however, also the reason he bore witness to so much hell and was able to record it for us. He worried that the world would not believe what was happening in camps like Auschwitz. That it would be dismissed as "horror propaganda" (which is precisely what the German state claimed it to be). He provides the following reason for his writing:

I write so that at least a tiny fraction of the truth may reach the world[...] This is the only goal; this is the sole purpose of my life. I live here with the thought, with the hope that my writings may reach you, and that at least a part of what I and all of us still alive here strive for, the final will of the murdered sisters and brothers of my people, may be realized in this life. ___________________ Come here to me, you free citizen of the world, who have had the good fortune not to know the rule of the cruel [--] two legged beasts, and I will tell you by what sophisticated, sadistic methods they have murdered millions of human beings from the defenceless, suffering Jewish people, protected by none. [...] If you do not return from your journey, it will be because your human heart was too weak to bear the strain of the gruesome, bestial deeds which your eyes beheld. [...] For you will have fled the world of men to seek comfort among the wildest, most savage beasts, rather than live among cultured demons.

From a section on transport to the concentration camp:

See, my friend, how they march in line as if turned to stone. No weeping, not a cry from a child is heard. Do you know why? Because all weeping by a child is stifled by a blow, both to the mother and the child. Such was the order given by the young wild animals [(Nazi guards)], such was their will. Their bestial instincts have been given free rein, and they are looking only for victims to sate their murderous souls, thirsting for warm Jewish blood. This mass of human beings must comply with their dreadful orders, since their lives are in their hands and their bodies could at any moment be corpses lying in red rivers of blood, with no one to bring them to eternal rest. See, my friend, how the mothers hug their children to stifle their weeping. They tuck their little heads under their shawls, so that the sobbing of the baby, freezing to death, will not be heard.

Here you see a woman standing with a baby in her arms. Her husband is standing next to her. They are staring out at the world passing by them, and instinctively keep glancing down at their lovely little baby. They are plagued by deep anxiety. They are still young, full of life, and the world they see through the windows is calling to them. They have someone to live for, someone to be there for, someone to work and labour for. They have just brought their first child into the world, and thereby woven themselves into the web of eternity, become partners in the building and development of the world. And at their very first steps in the world, they have been stopped and told to leave, to depart from the place they had begun to build their nest.

It is not themselves that they are thinking about. [...] For them, the child is the greatest happiness, the greatest comfort, the shared ideal of their lives. But for those cruel criminals, it is a useless plaything, without value or the right to exist.

After the train from the transport camp has begun moving. Remember that the camps were claimed to be "work camps":

The sound of the whistle rouses the people from their rigid immobility. The train has wrenched itself from [--] of death and is moving on. Mothers kiss their children, women their husbands. Tears of joy are flowing. Everyone has revived and drawn new breath. Hope for new life begins to form. [...] The belief is strengthening that all the rumours are false, all the terrible prophesies are baseless, built upon a single incident, dreadful in itself but not of a mass character.

The adults, who are suffering no less than the children, console themselves with the thought that the authorities will surely provide them with food and water at the next station. They will not deport a people intended as a labour force and let them die of hunger and thirst.

We get off the train. Now, my friend, see what happens. See who has come to welcome us. Soldiers in helmets, with large whips in their hands and big angry dogs at their sides. These are the open arms waiting to receive us [--]. No one understands why there is such a heavy guard. Why such a threatening reception? Why? What are we, that armed forces and wild dogs are needed to deal with us. We have come here to work, calm and peaceful people. So why all these precautions? Wait, and you will understand.

After being sorted into groups, apparently by age, sex, and prior occupation for the pretense of work. Zalmen himself was selected as one of the able-bodied:

The stronger ones, the small group supposedly selected as the best labour force, comfort themselves that transporting the women and children, and the weak and old men, in trucks is a mark of [humanitarian] feeling. Perhaps the authorities wish to spare them the burden of a march on foot after such an exhausting journey.

[...] They came with their wives and children, fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, and now they are all alone, without anyone. [...] They were together everywhere. Left the ghetto together, marched from the camp together, travelled on the locked train together. And now, at their final destination, when they have at least reached the dreadful and frightening point of culmination, they have been separated.

After arriving and being tattooed with an identification number:

From that moment on, you have lost your identity. You are no longer the man who once existed. Today you are a meaningless, worthless, walking number. [--] A hundred such numbers are created and taken to their new homes. [...] We stumble across the clayey ground and reach our new graves in fear and exhaustion. We have scarcely the time to look at our new home and breathe its air, when we are clubbed over the heads. Split skulls and battered faces are pouring with blood. Such is the welcome extended to the new arrivals. We are confused and shocked. [...] They explain briefly that this is the [bouquet] welcoming them to life in the camp.

Who knows how those vile criminals, to whatever species they belong, are now treating his weak, sick mother and dear, beloved sister? Who knows in what grave his father and brother have fallen, and how they are being treated? All stand helpless, anxious, despairing, alone, suffering and broken.

In a heavily damaged passage, Zalmen describes the daily march to work, and every man's eyes looking to the barbed wire of the women's camp. Searching for a relative, wife, sister, child. That maybe a ray of hope still glimmers. "You cannot make yourself believe that they have gone forever."

Outside our block too, a dead number is lying. We approach and have a look. Only this morning he was at work and now he lies motionless. No one cares. No one even sighs. Poor man, if you were with your parents now, their child, what commotion would surround you! Your mother would be lying beside you, weeping and sobbing. Your father would be pacing back and forth, unable to sit still, crying like a baby. Your brothers and sisters would be sitting around you, weeping bitterly and grieving for you. Your friends and [--] would come, and each would [--] the house would be full of sorrow [--] carried away by the terrible misfortune. [--] brothers and sisters [--] like stones in the camp. And when a stone sinks [--] no great misfortune. Grief has [--] them [--].

Zalmen writes about how some individuals still carried out the weekly prayers and songs of praise for God, and the struggle many felt on the topic of faith. As with everything else, he wrote much more, but here is an excerpt regarding the disillusioned bitterly watching the ever-faithful pray and sing, while in their daily lives they watched one tragedy and atrocity after the other:

[They] could inspire no feeling of gratitude, nor move us to sing praises to the Creator of the Universe who had allowed a barbarian nation to murder and annihilate millions of innocent people, men, women and children whose only crime was having been born Jewish; for recognizing the omnipotence of that same G-d to whom they now prayed for having brought monotheism to humanity. And because of this they have now become victims. And they should keep singing his praises? What for? To sing a song of praise before this sea of their own blood? To pray to him who refuses to hear the cries and screams of innocent children?

A recurring theme, but one for which there are no "succinct" passages is that of the despair of separation. The breaking up of families and not knowing the fate of loved ones. The despair of mothers who would have gladly died in their children's stead, but knowing that "the devil wants her too, along with her child, as a sacrifice". It is difficult to convey the sorrow in these pages. Gradowski saw the mass graves, the bodies, and the cremations. The hell of the Sonderkommando was bearing witness to it and knowing the fate that awaited them. It did afford them some capacity to help ease the suffering of fellow prisoners, but also meant quite literally processing the murdered. In a series of chapters close to the end, Zalmen describes the work they were forced to do. Watching as truckloads of women and children were brought to the gas chambers of Auschwitz-Birkenau. They were stripped and forced to stand naked, waiting for "gates of hell to open and give them free passage to the grave.". He describes girls reunited with their mothers kissing and rejoicing at their reunion despite the knowledge that they will soon be leading them to death. He describes the pain of seeing all these people, full of life, who will "in a few hours, be frozen in death. Their mouths will be silent forever. The sparkling eyes, the bewitching charm, will stare fixedly in one direction - searching through dead eternity".

He laments how this multitude will soon be bodies lying in the mud. Their teeth ripped out for metals, rings and jewelry removed. The pale bodies who were just moments earlier their kin will be dragged across the cement and thrown "like a foul carcass" onto elevators to the crematoria. Within minutes hundreds of lives are reduced to ash. Soon, all of these lives will be confined to wheelbarrows, destined to be dumped into unmarked graves.

No trace will be left of those who stand here now; all these people who once filled entire cities, who once had a place in the world, will be effaced, torn out by the roots as if they had never been born.

Sickeningly, he mentions that on this occasion, representatives of the Nazi party had come for the day's "celebration". High-ranking officers whose faces they had never seen in the 16 months he'd been imprisoned coming to watch these women marched into the gas chambers. At this point in 1944, Germany was losing their war. Somehow this slaughter of innocents was supposed to convince them that this was the real battle, and that this extermination was what mattered as their soldiers fell on all fronts.

Further groups are herded into the gas chambers, more than two thousand people, and he describes how soldiers coldly and calmly dumped the poison in through "eyes" at the top of the chamber and walked away "Proud, brave and content, having accomplished the great task for their nation, their fatherland. They have come one step closer to victory".

Finally, Zalmen describes how, after the gas had been administered, they were to open the doors of these great tombs, from which would blow a "wave of atrocious death". The only sound was a barely audible trickling of fluids flowing from bodies. In a "vast, naked sea", body parts protruded, and heads appeared as if floating in this abyss. They are to pull apart these bodies, that are "twisted into each other like a ball of yarn, as if the devil has deliberately played a diabolical game with them before their death and set them in this pose".

Two frozen eyes stare at you, as if to ask: what will you do with me, brother? More than once you recognize an acquaintance with whom you had spent time before he entered the grave.

At the end, he describes the burning.

The hellish fire extends its flames like open arms and snatched up the corpses like precious treasure. The hair catches fire first. The skin swells up in blisters that burst within a few seconds. The hands and feet start to writhe-the veins tighten and move the limbs. Now the entire corpse ignites, the skin has burst, the fat flows, and you hear the sizzle of burning fire.[...] The head burns the longest. Small blue flames flicker in its sockets-the eyes are consumed with the brain deep down and in the mouth the tongue still burns. The entire process lasts twenty minutes - and a body, a world is reduced to ashes.

In one final letter in September of 1944, Zalmen Gradowski described the location of some of the ash pits, and how much had been dumped into the river. He told the finder where to find his other writings. He died less than one month later, probably on October 7, 1944, in a Sonderkommando revolt after almost two years in the camps. Auschwitz-Birkenau would be liberated by the Red Army three and a half months later, on January 27, 1945.

One message that rings through everything is of the barbarism to which people will resort, looking to blame others for a problem. Complex explanations for ills are ignored entirely in favor of a scapegoat. Further, to paraphrase Gradowski, the greater the civilization, the greater its barbarism. It was an organized, efficient society which gave rise to this atrocity, and it is within organized and "civilized" societies that we see an ever-increasing number of people downplaying or denying them. Societies wherein we have more and more people subscribing brazenly to the ideology of the perpetrators. Please, read and learn as much as you can. Humans are uniquely able to learn, almost directly, from those who came before us. Take in their memory and their lessons and carry them into the future.

#holocaust remembrance day #holocaust #from the heart of hell #shoah #zalmen gradowski

[sapshorelines]

GUNS AND PASTRIES | CHAPTER 1: Down the rabbit hole

San X Ftm!Reader (MAFIA AU)

Story summary: M/n just open a bakery in downtown Seoul not too long ago, it was his dream to start a bakery business. But what happens when he goes to take out the trash, he see's a man hiding near his trash bleeding out as another group of men ask his whereabouts. Does M/n rat him out or help him?

(2.9k words | not proof read)

!! TRIGGER WARNINGS (CHAPTER 1) !! Swearing, Blood, Gunshot wound, Mentions of an attack, Mentions of taking T with syringe

AUTHORS NOTE: first series womp womp, anyway p1harmony are your college besties, sorry if it seems a bit ooc < / 3 , anyway hope you guys will enjoy this series !!

!! NOTE !!

None of my works represent any IRL people. These works are purely meant for entertainment purpose and shouldn't be taken seriously. Do not steal any of my works and reupload them to other medias

MINORS DNI

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----

It was a quiet morning, the sun was starting to rise from the horizon. A person was laying down in a bed, sleeping peacefully under the covers, not being bothered by the sunrays that started to slowly creep in.

Then, a loud buzz went off from the nightstand. Damn, guess this person can't sleep in, yeah its a weekday rather than a weekend. The male reaches for his phone to shut the alarm off and grabbing the phone. He turns it on only to be blinded by the bright light of his wallpaper. He waits a bit for his eyes to adjust to the brightness to look at the time, 6:20am. The male groans as he would scroll through any messages that his friends have sent him. Which he did have one unread message from his friend Shota.

[Soul👽] [ (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥ ] [ image attached ]

Ah yes, his college friend that stays up at ungodly hours playing video games. Sometimes this man goes days without any sleep but hey, that's just him. The male opens the image that was attached and it was a picture taken from Shota's phone at a screen. It was a picture of a build from minecraft and the caption reading 'A gift from me M/n-hyung!'. M/n smiles as he would react to the message that was sent with a heart. Yeah, M/n has a minecraft server open for him and his small friend group.

M/n sits up and stretches his arms out, then rubbed the eye boogers out of his eyes. Well, he's gotta start the day. He then gets out of bed, taking his phone with and putting it in his hoodie pocket as he made his way to his apartment kitchen to make himself some breakfast. M/n gets himself some simple milk and cereal along with some fruits to mix it in with. He then sets the bowl down on a coffee table, then grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. He swaps through a few channels to see what is happening with the news. He then stops at his usual channel that he watches news from because there really isn't much going on right now.

He continues to eat his breakfast, once finished he then grabs the bowl and takes it to the kitchen to set in the sink so he can clean later. M/n then makes his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day such as taking a shower and taking his meds, yes this includes testosterone shot.

Short timeskip later he was getting ready to head down to his bakery shop below to prepare to open. Yes, M/n opened a bakery not too long ago, about five months ago and business is amazing for him. His business rest nearby a metro station, so a lot of people come to grab a quick breakfast to snatch to eat on their way to work, and a lot of people enjoy M/n's pastries and such. It's the best in the area too!

M/n enters the employee area to start his shift, not realizing his friend Keeho had already clocked in. Keeho just stood there in silence, getting the bright idea to startle M/n. M/n paid no attention as he was clocking in, but as he was done he turns to his left-

"JESUS CHRIST KEEHO-" M/n yells, followed by Keeho laughing. "I got you!!" He taunts M/n, still laughing. "Don't do that!" M/n was annoyed at this point, this was probably the third time and he's still yet to get use to Keeho scaring him. "But it's funny!" Keeho chuckles.

"To you it is." M/n then started to put on his apron, he already changed into his uniform due to his apartment being literally right above him. "Anyway, do we have any orders to take out today? I can tell Jiung to do that today." Keeho asked, yeah Keeho is pretty much the manager too. "Uhh, let me check real quick." M/n says as he would quickly go to the computer to look. "Yeah there is a few orders that are due at noon, they aren't far ether so he can just take my bike and deliver them." M/n explains to Keeho.

"Alright cool, he's coming around noon, he has a doctors appointment today." Keeho says to M/n as he finished putting his apron on.

"He told me a few days ago, don't worry." M/n smiles, "Now, shall we get ready to open-" Right before M/n could finish his sentence, someone burst through the room, it was Intak. He was almost late, again. "I'm here!" He exclaims.

Both Keeho and M/n stared at Intak, bruh moment.

It soon got to be noon and the morning rush had died down a bit, but there were people here who were using this time to get work done and such. In fact it wasn't just a bakery, it was also a bit of a cafe too! But anyway, the door opens and in comes Jiung and Shota! Though Shota doesn't work here, he usually hangs out. The perks of being a twitch streamer.

"Hey M/n-hyung!" Jiung waves as he see's M/n cleaning up the counter a bit. "Oh! Hey Jiung!" M/n smiles, then seeing Shota right behind him. "Oh, hey Shota!" M/n greets him as well.

"Oh right- Jiung you got to do delivery today." M/n reminds him, "Yeah I know, do I need to take the car or-" "Nope, you can take my bike for today. There's not that many orders and they're all close by too."

"Oh! Alright, could I take Shota too?" Jiung asked, "If you want, I might have a spare bike too. I would just need to find the keys to the lock. Ill go look for them, I just need to wait for Keeho to get off his break." M/n says as he would toss the dirty paper towel into the trash can.

"Alright, Ill go clock in real quick." Jiung says as he would quickly make his way to the back to clock in. Shota stood there awkwardly, typical. "Oh yeah, I did see that build you made me last night." M/n says, "It's amazing!"

Shota smiles, "Ah, thats good." He smiles as he slowly made his way to the counter. "Are you going to stream tonight?" M/n asked him, in which Shota nods. "Cool! Ill tune in right when I close shop." Lets not forget that M/n had a QR code to his twitch account on the front of his bakery. How amazing of him.

Then, Jiung would come back out along with Keeho. "Keeho can you cover for me real quick? I need to go back to my apartment to grab the key lock for my other bike."

"Yeah sure go ahead." Keeho says as he makes his way over to help Intak. M/n then rushes to the back of the building where there was emergency stairs, M/n usually uses this as a way to get into his business and into his apartment. After awhile M/n comes back down with the keys, "Here Shota!" M/n then tosses the keys to Shota which, he got smacked in the face with, causing Jiung to laugh.

"Oh sh- my bad dude." M/n apologizes before letting out a chuckle. "Anyway, stay safe both of you."

"We will boss!" Jiung says as he hops on one of the bikes. Shota was struggling a bit to unlock the extra, rip.

Its now late afternoon, the sun was setting down and people are returning home from their work. M/n's bakery was starting to close up shop but still had a few last minute customers getting food for dinner or dessert. Keeho was taking orders as M/n was cleaning up the counter, Intak had already headed home to do college work.

Once the last customer walked out, Keeho walked over to the entrance and swapped the sign to 'closed'. "Has Jiung and Shota come back yet?" Keeho asked.

"No I don't think so, they might have used this opportunity to go to that arcade they were talking about. As long as he got those orders in I wouldn't mind." M/n says as he was putting away things. "You sure? Do you not care about the bikes? Do you not remember-"

"Keeho, its fine." M/n then closes the storage room. "You heading out?" M/n asked. "Uh- yeah I gotta go study."

"That's alright with me." M/n says as he started to take off his apron. "Do you need help with your uh, thing?" Keeho asked. M/n was confused at first on what he meant but Keeho pointed to his thigh. "Oh! No I don't, I'm able to do it myself, don't worry man."

"Alright, I'm gonna go ahead and clock out and take the trash out." Keeho says as he walked towards the back and started to take his apron off. "Don't worry about the trash, Ill get it. You can go ahead and clock out."

"You sure?"

"Mhm." M/n nods.

"Alright, cya tomorrow." Keeho smiles as he heads to the back. M/n then started to grab all the trash bags in the store to throw out. Usually Keeho exits through the front so he can make sure he had locked the door. So, M/n makes his way out the back to the alley way to the side that has their trash bin. He then opens the door looking towards the street and-

He stop dead in his tracks.

M/n notices a man sitting next to the trash, hiding from view. M/n then notices the blood coming from the mans shirt, he was bleeding. Before he could even say a word or do anything, he looks back over to the opening that lead to the sidewalk as he see's three men come from the corner.

"Hey kid!" One yells out to him, these guys looked sketched as hell to M/n. M/n also notices that they were out of breath too.

"Have you seen a tall man, short black hair, he's got a bullet wound to his shoulder." The crusty man asked him. Like if the world had frozen, M/n's brain was going insane. He just so happen to stumble upon something gang related. Shit. He was having a war in his mind, should he help this man or rat him out?

..He's injured, why should he rat him out to crusty old men?

"I saw him run across the road that way, he must be going through the back alley way of downtown that leads out of town." Holy shit lets hope he rolled a Nat 20 on persuasion.

"Huh, thanks kids." The more taller lanky man says, "C'mon, lets get that rat." The other two men would not and just like that the three ran off out of view, and when M/n KNEW for a fact that they were gone. He quickly threw the bags in the bin and immediately ran to the guy hiding next to the trash bin. He would then hoist his arm around his shoulder, noticing the size difference.

This guy was packed!

Anyway, he quickly helps the man inside and immediately shuts the door. M/n was about to call out for Keeho to help but he notices that his bag was gone. Fuck.

M/n then quickly grabs a spare chair that just sat against the wall and set the man down. He didn't want to ask questions right off the bat and M/n quickly ran to get the first aid kit to patch the wounds up. He then rushes to the closet in the employees room and grabs the first aid kit. M/n then rushes back and sets the kit down, but he notices the man was starting to fall to sleep.

"shit-" M/n swears under his breath, "Hey- dude- can you hear me?" M/n asked, which that got the man's attention. "Can I take off your shirt real quick so I can at least stop the blood flow?"

The man nods. He then takes his jacket off, then he lets M/n take off his shirt. "Holy fuck- you need to go to the hospital, Ill call-"

"Don't.." The man says, cutting off M/n. He was also out of breath and he was trying to fight internally to stay awake. "Do.. do you have a car?" He asked, in which M/n nods. "Yeah, Ill take you. Just let me stop the flow." He says as he quickly got a bandage wrapped around the wound. M/n tried his best to wrap the bandage but he was also trying not to stare at this mans abs and chest, he was handsome as hell.

But he also notices a tattoo near his hip, it was some kind of symbol that had an A and Z overlapping. He didn't put too much thought into it as he would finish wrapping the bandage.

"Alright, its the best I can do for now. Now lets get you to my car." M/n says as he puts the mans jacket back on around his shoulders, then helping him up. They quickly made way to the garage that was attach to the building, luckily, M/n's small car was on the first floor. M/n then puts the man in the back of his car, then quickly making his way to his driver seat.

The car started and they were off to the hospital.

"Stay awake man!"

The drive back from the hospital was.. weird. He didn't bring the man with as of course he had to go in for surgery. Hell M/n didn't get his name. What a shame. Well, at least M/n was being a good Samaritan by bringing a man in that got shot by some crooks. Though he doesn't know the full story.

Once M/n got back home, he enters his apartment after returning to finishing up closing up shop. He realizes he left his phone on the desk in the employee room, he didn't bring it with and he notices it was blowing up with notifications from his group chat with his friends. M/n would grab his phone and started to read through the messages. Most of it was Jongseob freaking out over breaking news, then Jiung saying him and Shota almost got caught up in it as they've just cycled by that building, and Keeho was pretty much asking for M/n to return any text, which the rest joined in.

M/n quickly typed a reply back.

[M/n] [Dude, you're not gonna believe what just happen]

[Keeho🐺] [Dude where the hell have you been???? Its been an hour and you haven't return any text] [Did you have any problems with getting your meds in???]

[Soul👽] [o(╥﹏╥)o]

[Jiung🐿️] [you locked me out and i couldnt clock out, is everything alright??]

[M/n] [Yeah everything is fine I just had to take a guy to the hospital]

[Intak🐶] [WAIT WHAT?]

[Jiung🐿️] [WYM HOSPITAL???]

[M/n] [Can I like explain???]

[Jiung🐿️] [o yeah] [go ahead]

[M/n] [When I took out the trash there was a dude bleeding out right near it and I had to take him to the hospital, some weird people were looking for him but I didn't expose him.]

[Jongseob🐯] [dude could you have saved a gang member from that explosion??]

[M/n] [????] [huh???]

[Theo☀️] [You haven't heard the breaking news???]

[M/n] [No???]

[Keeho🐺] [Right before we were about to close some bomb went off in the business district, they said its gang related] [ attached link ]

M/n was dumbfounded, well, he did have the TV off in the cafe at the time so he wouldn't have known. He then clicks on the link to read the news article.

--

BREAKING NEWS

At 6:32pm, a explosion went off within the lobby of NOVA Inc., a well known bank business. Witnesses say after the explosion a bunch of men ran out in different directions wearing all black, then were soon chased by other men. Witnesses also say that there was a shootout between the two groups. Police are still investigating the scene and are positive that this attack was caused by gang related activates. No arrest have been made but a dozen innocent civilians were sent to the hospital, no deaths have been reported. This story is still being updated.

--

Holy shit.

Did M/n just save one of the men that ran from that attack?

No fucking way.

M/n returns to the group chat.

[M/n] [Dude I think I just saved a gang member from being shot from other members]

[Keeho🐺] [HUH??]

[Intak🐶] [no fucking way you sure???]

[M/n] [I'm pretty positive, when I was patching up his wounds he had some sort of tattoo]

[Jongseob🐯] [Wait what was it?] [Like what was it shaped like??]

[Soul👽] [(⊙_◎)]

[M/n] [It was like] [An A and Z overlapping each other??]

[Jongseob🐯] [dude no way] [i have no clue who these guys are!!]

[M/n] [Then why tf did you ask?]

[Jongseob🐯] [i dunno]

[M/n] [lol ok sick man]

[Jongseob🐯] [ITS NOT MY FAULT I CAUGHT A COLD]

[M/n] [lol ok] [anyway I don't know if this guy was apart of a gang, I guess I gotta wait and see tomorrow or something]

[Keeho🐺] [Fair point] [Hey don't forget your meds dude!!]

[Theo☀️] [You beat me to it] [fuck you]

[Keeho🐺] [Sis please]

M/n then sets his phone down and turns it on silent mode, he knows these two are gonna argue over stupid shit again so he rather not deal with it. Anyway, M/n then starts to get ready for bed.

Not realizing what kind of rabbit hole he got himself into.

----

I hope you enjoyed this! I am open for critique and suggestions to improve!

#saps fanfics #ateez #p1harmony #fanfic #kpop fanfic #x ftm reader #kpop x ftm reader #ateez x ftm reader #san #san ateez #san x ftm reader #mafia au #newworldnet

[benbunny]

@missyling​ asked how I use Excel sheets to organize my AG collection, so here’s an explanation! This is so obnoxiously overkill, but I love lists and organizing and keeping track of things, so I find it really fun. Pretty long post with images ahead, so see below the read-more.

I’ll use Ruthie’s collection as a block-by-block example, but I’m slowly doing this for all of my dolls. 

I have one Excel Sheet document, but each doll has a “page” at the bottom, so I’m not just looking at one massive sheet for all of my dolls. Pages are listed left -> right in chronological order, since most of my dolls are historical. I put friends doll collections on the same page, so Ruthie and Stirling are both on Kit’s page. The names highlighted in green are the ones I’ve finished formatting and filling in sets from the AG wiki (if there are any - I have a few OC/non-AG characters). The others are still works in progress. Super tiny, unreadable image up ahead, just so you can see what a full “page” looks like, but my other screenshots are zoomed in to just a few boxes, so they’ll be legible and not overwhelming.

So each page has a big section for each doll. If there’s only one doll on the page (for example, Kaya, since I don’t have any of her “friends”), it is much less overwhelming. For Kit’s page in the screenshot above, there are three main sections, one for each doll. It’s super small, but you can kind of see that the top row has KIT in the far left corner, then about 5 columns, then a blank column, then RUTHIE, then another 5 and a blank column, then Stirling and another 5. I’m only ever looking at one character at a time, so I never have it zoomed out this much.

This is what I’m usually looking at. This is one sub-section within Ruthie’s collection. I have a fixed/frozen row at the top with the character name and column titles: set/item name and year, the contents of the set, the value (I’ve been trying to do this for insurance purposes, or so I would have a reference point if I ever needed to quickly sell anything -- I’m not super good about remembering this, but I try to fill in the cost of the set when it came out and how much I actually purchased it for on the secondhand market or wherever. Most of this column is blank and I’m still working on this; I feel like I also might need the current “going” price for this set, if I ever wanted to use this for like insurance-related stuff. I’m not sure though. This column is most definitely overkill, but I like to Know Things), a column listing any of the items in a set that I’ve DIYed or replaced with something else (this is also where I note any damages, for example one of Kit’s meet shoes has a stain - I’ve noted that in this category), and any pieces that I’m missing from that set. When I have a full, completed set, I’ll fill the name box with green. If I don’t particularly care to have a full set, I’ll fill the name box with red (though this used to mean that a set was almost complete, so it’s a little inconsistent). The bold MEET on the side is just to organize the sets into “sections.” The others I have are BEDTIME, WINTER, SCHOOL, etc. 

For AG-released dolls like Ruthie, I list every set that was ever released for her (whether I want to own it or not), as well as “new” sets that I think fit her collection. In the first column, where the “section” goes, I put in parentheses if I’ve stolen the set from another character. For example, I think Kit’s Striped Nightie should be Ruthie’s, so I’ve put it under Ruthie’s BEDTIME category, with (Kit) in parentheses, so I know where the set originated. This means that there can be duplicate sets on here, but each set has a dedicated “owner” that doesn’t change, even if other dolls borrow it. So the Striped Nightie is firmly Ruthie’s -- it is still listed under Kit’s collection, but it says (Ruthie) in the far left column, so I know it’s listed twice. This may be a little nonsensical, but it’s the way that works best for me at the moment. If I’ve made up a completely new set for a character, I put (New) in the far left column. See the Winter Coat set, which I plan to sew based on the book illustrations; this isn’t a coat taken from another character’s collection, nor is it an AG original for Ruthie, so I label it (New).  You can see that I added a (New) Plaid Holiday Dress set -- since this Etsy dress isn’t meant to be a reproduction of the original AG Holiday Dress (it looks totally different), I created a new “set” for it. If I had sewn a reproduction of her AG Holiday Dress, meant to look like it, I would write that in the official Holiday Dress row, and note that it was handmade under my Repro/off-brand/damaged column (I really need to rename this column “comments” or something).

I also have a MISC OUTFITS section for other items that don’t really have a better place. For long-running AG dolls like Kit, I usually have several “MISC” sections: outfits, accessories, etc. As you can see in this screenshot, I have plenty of ideas for Ruthie’s collection, but I don’t actually own any of these. As I said, I don’t actually intend to own all (or even most) of the sets I put in the Excel sheet, but I’m a little forgetful and just like to know what’s out there (AG Wiki is great, but the ads make it difficult to use for long periods of time, so I like to keep my own running list of all the sets released). 

Here’s Stirling’s current collection. His looks a little different than Ruthie’s, since he was never an AG-released doll, so has no “official” collection. Everything on here is something that I (theoretically) would like to own for him. You can see that I’m still kind of testing out the best place to put the shop name for handmade items that I purchased -- I would really like to keep track of this, but I’m not quite sure where. If I write “handmade” with no other info, it means that I handmade it. You can also see where I flip-flopped on the meaning of the red box; when I wrote this out for Stirling, I was still thinking that red = almost complete. By the time I went back and did Kit’s, I had decided that red = a set that I don’t really want. I’ll go back and fix it at some point....

For a more familiar, classic collection, let’s look at Kit’s MEET section. I have all of her meet sets listed, both classic and BeForever. Again, the red here means that I’m not really interested in owning these sets. I do want to keep track of them, because I like Knowing Things, but I don’t want to own them. You can also see how inconsistent I’ve been with the Value column; I can never decide if I should put the original price (for Kit doll, from 2000), the price I paid (a gift in 2008/9), or the price it would cost to replace (now, currently, on AG’s website). It doesn’t really matter, but I just like to keep track of stuff, I guess. 

Like I said, I find this really fun; I am absolutely an Excel Sheet Girlie. I’m also working on it super slowly; I’ll take an afternoon to sit down and copy over all the sets from AG Wiki, then maybe another afternoon to add in my “custom” info -- the pieces I have, the add-ons I’ve made, etc. It’s a fun way to engage with my collection and, weirdly enough, it does help curb my doll hoarding habit. Knowing that I have all this info and can check it at any time really quiets that little voice in the back of my head telling me to buy every AG set as soon as it releases for full price because What If It Retires And Never Comes Back? -- with this, I can remind myself that I already have SO MUCH DOLL STUFF and that the fun of collecting (for me, at least) is less about the buying/owning, and more about the Lists and Knowing and Sorting, lol. It also helps when I’m “spring cleaning” and trying to downsize -- if an item doesn’t have a “place” on the Excel Sheet and I’m not 100% in love with it, it probably deserves a new home.

#my posts #american girl dolls #doll collecting #again...the autism really jumped out methinks

[roboticchibitan]

I'm all for accessibility, and have recently started describing photos I upload... but this seems not great.

[Image ID: a screenshot of a tumblr post of a screenshot. The screenshot has been shrank to be tiny. It is small enough that the alt text symbol covers one third of the photo, making it unreadable. End ID]

And I was like well... I don't want to complain about accessible features. At least people with screenreaders know what's in that image now. But then I clicked on the alt text button while trying to click on the image to make it bigger (because I am on mobile and have poor motor skills sometimes it took me several tries to open the photo) so I could read it and

[Image ID: a screenshot that says "Image description" on the header and the only text says "image." End ID]

Again, don't want to complain about accessibility features but this post was unreadable to literally everyone which seems like a flaw in the system here... is the tiny image thing a feature or a bug? I leave tumblr for a few days and there's apparrently polls now and I don't know what is up with the tiny images thing is that on purpose? With tumblr you can never tell if the latest bullshit was on purpose or not and I am desperately confused what happened while I was gone???

#help

[daughter-of-fire-and-dreams]

#2 Bark

“All that bark, and this is all you can do?...”

The words barely sizzle if at all. An irony given how deep cutting they are. Every night is the same. I’m ‘alone’ in this white room, writing binary codes that more often than not become unreadable even to myself. I’m not a super computer after all, there is a limit to a Spoken mind. 

But for some reason, her words still don’t cut me. All I could attribute it to after some thought, would be because they don’t sound personal words aimed at me. But the detached reading of a script as she peers over my shoulder rather than looking at me. 

Why are you even here tonight?... Wasn’t our agreement that you’d entertain whoever tried to spy on me?...

But asking doesn’t give me an answer at all. Just silence. 

To be honest, she’s a mystery. But we’ve been together for as long as I remember since I was little. Sometimes I’d call her ‘mom’ to show that she was the closest thing to a second one in that category. Now that I’m older though, I still don’t know what to make of it. 

Her visits are just as ambiguous. Sometimes she’d be all smiles, tease me, or act as whimsically as possible while I minded my own business. And others, she’d be quiet and serious, staring off elsewhere as if being here wasn’t of her own accord. 

“I don’t want your help.” I stated flat out. And the answer feels as if I’m a little kid that just hit a bullseye on today’s classroom lesson. That’s the best way I can describe the expression she has when staring at me. 

Pride? For being refused? I’ll never get it. And a light thought inside my head whispers that I hate it. I hate being small. I hate being powerless. I hate everything. 

Why are you here? It’s not as if you can do anything either. You and your… golden stupid…

And then it clicks. The image of my companion in this shitty white space with just a patch of green for a tea party is blurred. So blurred that nothing stands out to me. 

“Who are you?” the words come out almost out of instinct despite knowing I won’t get an answer. 

But all she did was smile lowly again and, despite how ambiguous the colors and features are, I can sense a bit of guilt in it. 

“We already had our introductions long ago you know..” she told me, closing away a book I hadn’t noticed she’d been holding over her lap. 

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing ever does. Delaying my thoughts by thinking of her isn’t going to get me far. So I turn back to the blank space that I’ve adamantly tried to fill with 1’s and 0’s for what feels like a lifetime. And yet… I don’t think I’ve made any significant progress. The realization doesn’t bring despair to me for once, but a rush of exhaustion. 

“All this bark… And I still can’t get shit done..” I whispered under my breath, almost feeling as if my knees were ready to buckle after so long. 

“Want a hint?” she asked, showing some concern for once rather than her deadpan tone of a script. 

“You’re using anger as the only fuel… The moment you hesitate for a single second at your finish line, if you ever get to it. That’s when you’re going to lose everything.”

Beautiful. The best advice I could get that I’d spit at if I could… But I know she’s right… And I don’t know what to do to reach where I have to go. For once… I wish I could talk to someone about this outside of this room. But I can’t. 

I’m alone in this. Because it’s a boat meant to sink by smashing into the ice on purpose. 

#meam rhua #ffxivwrite2023

[celestialmango]

1) Have you ever played the game shadow of the Colossus? It's a game a played I years ago and just thought of it and what it would be like with Sun, moon, Eclipse, Glitch and maybe the glamrocks (though of course they're not the focus). But if you haven't, the main protagonist of the game has the mission of hunting and slaying massive monsters, that have a few weak spots, but are otherwise seemingly impenetrable. They are giants and the main character has to scale them using their fur

2), footholds, chains or structures to climb them to reach these spots, most being on top of their heads and some areas on their spine (but not always). Although one or two are small, the rest are gargantuan, like, about th size of an eye to them (from what I remember if some of the big boys). They live in a sealed off area, roaming the open lands, mountains, lakes and ruins that have long been abandoned (I think?) by an ancient civilization. I just wonder how it would play out as an au ~Shy

🥭: No but I saw a playthrough a really long time ago. If i remember right the main character was there on purpose for some type of deal thing and the lands were forbidden

For fun let's make Eclipse live in the a lake, Moon in the mountains, Glitch in the ruins and Sun in the plains. One area for each boy. Instead of going there to slay them let's saw reader is trying to escape their people and ended up having no other way to go but into the forbidden lands, they don't make it far enough in to come across the Glamrocks.

See's big old colossus Sun wandering around, looks back at the people chase them then goes, "imma bout to do something extremely stupid." Makes their horse catch up to Sun who doesn't notice them and then they leap onto his leg and starts climbing. the others are hesitant but soon go after Sun who is walking away. His attention soon gets drawn to the people coming after him.

Assuming they're coming to try and slay him he fights back, reader hanging on for dear like while the others humans begin to retreat. Sun walking after them a little ways till they're gone. The he hears a tiny "oh shit" as reader looses their grip but he catches them out of reflex, lifts them up so he can see who it was out of the humans group that he caught.

The one was not with the group, they are injured, tired, don't look they have or had a weapon on them and he has no idea how long they had been clinging him. There's a creaking and hissing of pistons in his chest before he turns towards an old tower in the centers of the borders between his, Moon's, Glitch's and Eclipse territory and starts carrying them there. Reader is pretty sure they'll die if they try to escape his grasp.

He lowers his hand into the ruined side allowing reader to climb off before he points them in a direct inside of the tower and started walking away to gather Eclipse, Moon and Glitch because reasons (that will be revealed as reader explores the tower) looking around after lighting a torch a story is told on the wall of the ancients build a bunch of beings, the becoming sentient, the humans attacked the beings, they were too strong so humans abandoned the place, reader sees depictions, a lot has become unreadable with time. But one large image covering an entire wall of this room is pretty intact, looks a lot like the giant creature that brought reader here. Only not having chipped or broken Sun rays.

depicts his inter mechanisms, like there are lots of chambers inside of his body but the one where a stomach would be looks like it has access to a lot of what makes the being work.

Sun comes back sees reader looking at the image of him, point at the image, point at himself, points at reader, points at his stomach on the image then kneels a bit and opens his mouth in front of reader.

It's clear he wants them to crawl into his mouth and from the picture on the wall it looked like it was possible they'd be safe so reader decides yolo, and lets Sun eats them, once inside the advanced yet ancient machine they see a few parts out of place and fix them, hear a crackling sound before "NEW FRIEND, THANK YOU SO MUCH, I'M SO GLAD YOU WERE ABLE TO FIX THAT SO I COULD SPEAK AGAIN"

Basis boils down to Sun was tutorial, while Sun notified the others you were there he cannot take you to them, you're going to be climbing these giant machines, getting them to eat you and fixing their broken bits from inside. You help them they help you sort of deal. This part of the area is completely cut off from the Glamrocks area, these guys are just broken, the Glamrocks are the ones with a virus. That's the best I can come up with for that.

#mango answers #☀️🌕 #🌑☀️ #👾💧

[o5-the-daughter]

[Audio and video connection established]

The video flickers on to show and unfamiliar, but cozy appearing living room; it's decorated in warm brown and red hues, which remind a bit of the office of the Nines that had been shown previously, with a big, wine red sofa placed nicely in view of the camera and a lit fireplace off to the right side of the image displayed. Behind the sofa is a window front spanning almost the entirety of the background, which shows a few snowy trees before opening up into a mountain view. Snowflakes appear to be falling outside, giving the scene a calm atmosphere.

A moment after the camera has been turned on, quiet steps round the table the device was placed on and Willow sits down on the sofa - a duck wearing a knitted pink-and-red sweater follows and hops on the free spot next to them, where it cuddles itself up in a blanket pile that seems to have been placed there for this exact purpose.

After watching the duck for a few seconds, Willow turns to face the camera instead. They look a lot more tired than they had during any of their previous appearances, with an unreadable expression that matches the one Eight had worn during his time in the mirror dimension irritatingly closely. Still, they manage a small, but soft smile a little later and give a vague wave, before grabbing a half full wine glass from the coffee table.

Willow [after another brief pause]: I knew all of them, personally. As such, I will answer one question about each, based on first-come-first-serve - any follow-up and more general questions will depend on whether I feel up to them.

Willow [their smile widening into an attempted half-grin]: ... Get going. I have business to tend to later.

#under the willow tree

[lizzieehearts]

gyarun2u's accessibility masterpost!!

as someone who's been a bystander in the kpop community for a while, ive noticed the lack of accessibility for visually impaired users. this post is a guide for how to describe photos and gifs for beginners.

most blind or visually impaired people use screenreaders on sites like tumblr. since screenreaders don't automatically describe images, without written image descriptions or alt text they cannot tell what a post consists of. screenreaders also can't pick up on coloured text, so i'll be going through how to do ids for that as well.

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DOs and DON'Ts of image descriptions

DO add written image descriptions or alt text to a post. the difference between them is that alt text is accessed when a screen reader hovers over an image. written ids are added under the picture so anyone who sees the post can see them.

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DON'T add your ids under a cut. cuts are hard for visually impaired people to access as the cut itself is quite small. please don't make your ids less accessible to the people they are helping.

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DO describe the neccessary information in your description. it doesn't have to be long. for example:

[id: a gif of yunjin from le sserafim dancing on stage. /end id]

[id: a gif of yunjin, a young woman with light brown hair, from group le sserafim. she dances on stage to her song "antifragile". /end id]

both ids are suitable. they serve the same purpose and give the necessary information, but the second paints more of a picture than the first.

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DON'T used coloured, small or other variations of text, as these can't be picked up by screen readers. use basic size text or indented text, no others. if you are using unreadable text, put a text description underneath. this is just [td: (exact info in coloured text) /end td]

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DO tag things that don't have image descriptions as undescribed / not described / no id / anything along those lines. and tag images that do as image described / has id / etc etc. people who use screen readers can block the first tag so that they aren't searching for ids on posts that don't have them.

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image descriptions

image descriptions are very simple. a checklist for a basic one is:

1. the type of media, e.g. photo, gif, moodboard

2. the people shown. my rule of thumb is to name the idol and give a brief description of their appearance.

3. what the person is doing

4. any other context needed to understand the media. this can just be that it was taken at the end of a performance or on a variety show.

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that's literally it. to show what i mean by each of these, i'm going to do a sample id.

1. type of media - photo

2. person shown - jihyo from twice, wearing all black shirt, dress, gloves and boots.

3. what the person is doing - standing, holding up her phone camera and looking into it. holds a physical camera in her other hand.

4. other context - none

[id: a photo of jihyo from twice. she wears a black shirt, leather dress, fingerless gloves and boots. she is standing and holding her phone camera up with one hand. she has a physical camera in the other. /end id]

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describing gifs is very similar to photos. you may need to add more details depending on the actions, but thats the only change needed really.

1. type of media - gif

2. person shown - hikaru from kepler

3. what they're doing - looks out to audience after performance

4. other context - after "we fresh" performance

[id: a gif of hikaru from kepler. she looks out to the audience after a performance of the song "we fresh". /end id]

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gif or photo sets can take a little bit longer, but a lot of the steps are the same. i'll use another example one since i'm not sure how well i would be able to explain it.

1. type of media - gifset

2. person shown - kwon eunbi

3. what they're doing - dancing to song "underwater"

4. other context - white and silver outfit, teal background

[id: a gifset of kwon eunbi. she wears a white and silver outfit, and dances to her song "underwater". the stage background is teal. /end id]

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ids vary depending kn the writer and the context, but once you add in the basics shown here you should be fine! they're super easy once you get the hang of them.

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alt text

i'm not as familiar with alt text, but i will try abd explain it as best i can.

alt text is a briefer description, only consisting of 5-7 words.

for example, using the same pic of jihyo

[jihyo from twice holding a camera]

using the same gif of hikaru

[hikaru from kepler ending fairy]

as far as im aware thats it, but please do your own research as im not an expert.

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all gifs made by @wujugirlz and used with permission

just like with anything, your ids will get better with practice. if you want any advice, my ask box is open!

#this is for the one brave girls creator i saw describing their gifs but who i can't find anywhere #le sserafim #twice #kepler #kwon eunbi #kpop #accessibility #image descriptions

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

4, 18, 22? From the writer questions?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Tender. Nothing gets me more than the almost hand holding from two characters. The lingering touch. Wanting contact but being too afraid of hurting the other that they withdraw. Feeling too war torn and broken to be worthy of holding something so soft and gentle in their hands. And then when they do finally have their moment they're so SOFT and TENDER and I LOSE my MIND.

18. Chose a passage from your writing. Tell me the backstory of this moment. How did you come up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage

Kerri grabbed the dandelion from where it still rested atop the headboard of the bed she had used. She tried not to look too long at it, lest she be reminded of how it had felt to share that space with him. How it had felt to be close, to have held him the way she had. To share warmth with him.

Turning her back on it, spinning the dying dandelion between her fingers gently, she unplugged her phone from where it sat, charging, on the nightstand. As the screen lit up, before she noticed any of her unread emails or other various notifications, she saw the text message.

It was from the night he died--two days before. Checking the timestamp, she noticed that it had arrived before he left the room, while she was still prepping from her post. There was no text, only one image attachment.

Hands trembling, Kerri opened the message. A small noise broke from her throat at what looked back at her.

It was… it was her. And him.

The vibrant colors were impossible to misplace. The white painted railing of the bridge they stood on, the pond underneath them.

Even worse was the bright smile he was flashing in the photo next to her own—an echo of the laugh he’d pulled from her upon threatening to throw her into the pond.

She hadn’t cared, but he had wanted so badly to take that picture after picking the dandelion for her. Had wanted it to preserve the memory. Had wanted it because he wanted to see her happy.

Kerri's hands began trembling so much that she dropped the phone, eyes and throat burning.

No one was around to watch her sink to her knees. No one was around to comfort her, to say anything to her as she bowed over her thighs, buried her face in her hands, and wept at last.

The only thing that gets me more than tender encounters between characters is writing the moment one breaks. This passage is from a first draft, and hasn't been through rounds of edits yet, but the backstory on this is, essentially, that. The whole purpose of the project that this scene came from was to get to this moment for this character.

22. how organized are you with your writing? describe to me your organization method, if it exists. what tools do you use? notebooks? binders? apps?

So fucking organized my guy. I'm super into creating writer's notebooks right now as a way of keeping character charts, plotting worksheets, brain dumps, sketches, and the likes all in one place. I keep notebooks, electronic notebooks in Google Drive, binders, fucking everything. I even keep goddamn spreadsheets. I blame my three Virgo placements.

Writer questions!

#ask games

[eden-kellman]

Photo 1: The rhythmic pattern is represented through the fires flames. There is repetition in its shapes, curves, and colors (red, yellow, and orange).

Photo 2: The same font remains throughout the poster, starting with the title, “FIRE SAFETY,” which communicates the importance of the message through its bold and underlined design. The second size of the font complements the title and communicates the consequences of pulling the fire alarm. There is also a smaller size that says “(including firecrackers)” to back up a part of the second size that defines, interprets the meaning of it.

Photo 3: In this image, the capital letters F, C, and W are the same height as the lowercase letters h, t, and l. Since all stand above the baseline, they are considered to be letters with ascenders.

Photo 4: In the word “Experience,” the p and o are descenders since a portion of the letters drops below the baseline, making it a descender letter.

Photo 5: Since the b and the a have an enclosed space inside of it, they are counter letters.

Photo 6: The two A’s in the word “Animals” have a crossbar since they have a horizontal stroke that completes the part of the letter. 

Photo 7: The x-height in this photo is large because all lowercase letters are the same height as the capital letter. This is caused by its bubbly large font

Photo 8: The x-height is small, but the ascenders d, f, k, and h are very long. 

Photo 9: The lululemon bag can be recognized as something that is modernized. Just like Vignelli’s typography decisions, most modern fonts tend to have geometric, bold and thin lettering, curves, strokes, and different angles.

Photo 10: The message on this poster is trying to connote something important, but the font is very casual and simple. Usually when you try to emphasize an important message, people want to use a loud font with bright colors that will get people's attention. However, this makes the message unreadable and it makes it difficult for some people to read, which defeats the purpose of the goal.

#module4