old people liker

☆ https://linktr.ee/jalapenoscumbag ☆

[jalapenoscumbag]

Meet the Artist (February 2026)

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every few months or so i gotta remake this thing

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some tags i use (when i remember to):

#axel is talking 🤫👂 – yapping, rambling, spam tag

#jalapenoscumbag – art related posts and maybe general stuff depending on the context tag

(more info in rest of post…)

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some things i enjoy:

secret equation man (istation)

futurama

dexter

south park

five nights at freddy’s

kirby (especially the anime!)

avatar the last airbender

powerpuff girls

leisure suit larry

dictator history

carmen sandiego (2019 version)

stardew valley

star trek

poptropica

jumanji (the animated series)

the sims franchise

cuphead

spy vs. spy, spy x spy, etc.

undertale/deltarune

“dirty crackhouse” movies

numberjacks

battlestar galactica (1978 version)

no country for old men

blood meridian

fugget about it

squidbillies

aqua teen hunger force

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other dni i forgot to add:

radqueers

any other new fangled terms for preds that i forgot

[onetobeamup]

Klingon romance novels on the other hand are definitely like chinese historical dramas but also like shonen anime. they absolutely have Real Klingon Historical Figures in them, there is a HUGE emphasis on interpersonal court politics as well as physical violence, there are always massive battles with cool moves and cuts to impressive poetry written about the battle and how covered in blood everyone was. theres a lot of minor characters that have their own massive plotlines, theres warrior homosexuality and klingon girl fights (lesbians but no one outside of klingon culture could discern it, its highly contextual) the books are all like 800 pages because editing klingon literature is a true battle against the artists vision.I feel like The Legend of Haolan or Kangxi Dynasty is pretty close to what im picturing but significantly more blood. So much more. might also have more episodes and meander more.

[onetobeamupart]

[cbd-puppy]

Christian poaster: I'm imbued with the poasters spirit

agnostic poaster: there's no way to know why my posts are good

atheist poaster: my posting gland is enlarged

[jerk-bending]

soooooo normal about klingons right now soooo very normal not vibrating like a chihuahua at all so very normal

[twofingerswhiskey]

reblog if you hate the current interior design trend of painting everything white with hints of grey or black. ignore if you have no taste

[ignoranceisparadise]

Squeezing him like a panic pete till his eyes pop out of his skull

[stupidarcadeboy]

GUYSSS LOOK AT THE PIN @jalapenoscumbag MADE FOR ME 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[hornyverymuch]

I love how specific that Star Trek reference was

[jalapenoscumbag]

general chang’s office as seen in star trek: klingon academy

[jalapenoscumbag]

tonight i doodled

[jalapenoscumbag]

The Station Master (A short story!)

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This is a story that I wrote for a creative writing class during my senior year of high school (circa March/April 2025). Someday, I plan to revise this entire story, but for now this is the original version (albeit with some minor edits to grammar). This post may be updated if I forgot to revise certain bits.

The Station Master is inspired by the Billups Neon Crossing signal, which I learned about through this video by Tor’s Cabinet of Curiousities. If I remember correctly, Tor gave the idea in their video that this crossing signal would be a great idea for a southern gothic story, so I credit them for the original idea or this short story.

CONTENT WARNING: child death

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There were only four things the townsfolk of Briarhook knew for certain about The Station Master: He was born sometime in early 1880, though the exact date he never stated, he had a son—Silas— who was no older than 16 years old, where his wife would die during childbirth, leaving Silas to be raised alone by The Station Master, and that he took his job awfully seriously both as the overseer of Briarhook’s small train station for a place that only saw corn leave the city limits by the tons and the occasional northern cargo train passing through to re-fuel for a long journey to the west coast.

He did not concern himself with the opinions of the other “Briarfolk,” even if the rest of them saw The Station Master as an off-putting, crotchety old man in stark contrast to his outgoing son— who had been effortlessly popular among the younger of the townsfolk— he still put great effort into keeping the tracks as safe as they possibly could be. Particularly, The Station Master would meticulously watch over the only portion of train track that crossed paths with a civilian road.

Admittedly, hardly anybody lived down this road, but its relatively flat terrain with just the right amount of foliage made it a perfect playground for the children of Briarhook. So few trains passed through this section of track that most of them (even adults) deemed the area harmless. Even when a train would pass through, those playing cops and robbers on the tracks would barrel-roll quickly into the adjacent ditches as the earth shook beneath them with the bellowing screech of the train’s whistle. They had their system in place, and they knew what to do when a train encroached on playtime. It would’ve been a cruel, dark joke if it hadn’t been the tragic reality that the first train casualty to strike Briarhook would be The Station Master’s son himself.

He opted for a brief procession, burying his son next to his deceased wife —the spot had originally been reserved for him, but he felt it appropriate to give the grave to Silas— with minimal words. The Station Master’s grief would manifest in an unexpected way, although the Briarfolk should’ve seen his actions riding in from miles away. Out of respect, the town would dedicate the following Sunday’s worship service to the memory of Silas, celebrating his life. To everybody’s surprise and worry, The Station Master was nowhere to be found during the service. It wasn’t until one of the youngest of the Briarhook children would come rushing in late to announce the whereabouts of The Station Master.

A handful of people would bear witness to his unusual way of grieving— The Station Master had the original tiny crossbuck torn down in place of a much larger, garish gantry sign that simply read “STOP! DEATH AHEAD!” on the black metal sign in red neon lettering. All stood in the middle of the dusty street, just in front of the new ostentatious display but behind The Station Master. Hearing their curious hushed murmurs, The Station Master turned around and spoke up.

”All of you have failed to heed my warnings about this dangerous crossing!” He shouted, accusatorially waving a hand towards the crowd,

“…I hope this will help mitigate casualties.”

He took a long draw from his wooden pipe before turning back to look back up at the 20-foot display. The crowd would stay silent, conflicted on whether to voice their concerns or frustrations, simply opting to swiftly leave The Station Master alone to process his thoughts.

Despite how hard it had become to disregard the dangers of the railroad crossing now, the Briarhook children continued to occupy the track. They still used their original method of making a speedy dive into the ditches, just being careful to avoid hitting their heads against the new sign which had massive concrete bases, anchoring the structure into the earth. Yet again, it should’ve been obvious that another casualty was bound to happen.

The second child’s death was met with similar treatment in the following Sunday service, though by now most of the parents were starting to encourage or outright forbid their children from heading down to the backwoods track. And once again, The Station Master had not shown up to church. This time, a larger group of Briarfolk— mostly composed of the older men— would approach the now aptly nicknamed “Death’s Crossing” to a group of engineers led by The Station Master applying a new addition to the obnoxious sign: an air-raid type siren that would blare its piercing song when a train was passing through.

Upon the second addition, the eldest of Briarhook would carry out an intervention at the town hall to encourage The Station Master to take down Death’s Crossing. Not only was the new siren so loud that it could be heard from the center of town (so they claimed), it scared the local livestock into drying up usual production. They’d instead propose a compromise: either tear down the current sign and reinstall the original crossbuck with some additional less intrusive safety measures or they would report this incident to the Railroad Commission.

“You people don’t understand, I’m protecting each and every one of you!” The Station Master furiously shouted, face red hot with anger and deep-seeded pain. Before anybody could reply, he stormed out of town hall into the fog covered night.

In the next four weeks alone, three children would each be struck by oncoming trains, all in similar fashions. With each death, The Station Master tacked on another elaborate safety addition to Death’s Crossing. Crude, metal traffic spikes were dug into the dirt road on both sides of the track to deter both vehicles and people, a large barbed wire gate would be installed on the sign’s support beams that stretched across the road to, and at least five extra signs were installed along the way towards the railroad crossing. Not only were the Briarfolk were through with The Station Master’s complex, over-the-top safety system, the Briarhook station engineers were beginning to grow exasperated with the overtime they served building on the new contraptions to Death’s Crossing. Though it was a small team of five men (including the head engineer), their protest would deal a cumbersome blow to the small Briarhook rail system.

”We aren’t going to contribute to your project anymore,” The head engineer declared. “It’s a waste of time and resources!”

In the end, The Station Master was left to clean up the mess— yet he remained as uncompromising as he had been before, still insisting that he had a duty to protect the Briarfolk to the very end. Under his watch, there wouldn’t be another train collision, for he’d do everything in his power to safeguard the track from passersby.

Late into that frigid, raining night, The Station Master made his way out to Death’s Crossing by his lonesome. Armed with a ladder and a rudimentary tool home kit, he climbed his way to the top of the gantry to establish one last simple feature: timing the red neon sign to flash with the air raid siren’s sharp whine. Through enraged yells and rushed handiwork, The Station Master tended to the sign as cold droplets of water pelted onto his back, soaking his clothes and making the ladder slick and difficult to hold onto by the seconds. Consumed in his dutiful task—partially in an angered trance— he would be pulled back to reality when he heard the unmistakable sound of a long train whistle in the distance. He stared blankly at the oncoming train, a hollowness swallowing him whole, it was only when the air raid siren’s sudden blare caused The Station Master to seize up and return back to reality with a throbbing pain in hischest. He instinctively grasped at his left breast with an excruciating yowl, not accounting for the fact he was now tumbling scarily close to the track.

Although, he would not land on the train tracks, instead crashing down just next to the barbed wire gate and traffic spikes.

And as The Station Master heard the unmistakable roar and rumble of the encroaching train—now just whizzing past him— he just barely was able to claim one last look at the metal beast. In that moment, he could’ve sworn he saw the faint silhouette of Silas in the window of the locomotive cab.

[jalapenoscumbag]

art idea: draw your ocs and/or favs as if they were on the set of a movie but the movie is their universe

so like interviews, them having makeup and costumes put on, etc.

[jalapenoscumbag]

Star Trek x Steven Universe — Blue Pearl (Spock)

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i gave him a skirt for fun

Part 1 (Captain Kirk)

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[daily-klingon]

[jalapenoscumbag]

Star Trek x Steven Universe — Captain (Yellow Lace) Agate

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Decided to start a little mini project where I plan to design gemsonas for some Star Trek characters. I’m starting with TOS and hopefully working my way through the movies and TNG/DS9 (not sure if I’m going to do the other shows or not just yet). If I remember to make and finish each character design, they’ll be posted here and to my Instagram. I post more information here on Tumblr about my work more than Instagram, however.

User bisexualspacefreak DeviantArt had previously done the full TOS bridge crew with this same idea, but I don’t intend to copy them.

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[maxbytes]

happy pride to the gays in bikini bottom

[jalapenoscumbag]

im looking back at the klingon timeline of events for my oc milo and im realizing how much i really need to work out, ts really gonna be a labor of love

i think this will mostly be my own au of sorts too, so i might change up a bit of the original lore but idk yet

i know for sure i want the klingon academy game’s events to be canon in this though