babey

i really don't know how to use this site like at all help

[b3au-regards]

I’m never getting over how y’all treated Hayden on trans day of visibility. Y’all saw a bad bitch post artistic nudes on her age restricted main account FOR FREE, and you complained. You are fake woke and fake perverts, and you SICKEN ME!!!

[stuckinapril]

This this this this!!!

[turnupthestrobe]

[tankhall]

In 2018, I wrote down a passing thought in my cheap little leather-bound journal I was writing a collection of songs in that would go on to become Preacher’s Daughter. “If I finish this album the way it needs to be finished, it will change my life, and it will leave a hole in my heart for years that I won’t know how to fill.” I’ve always had a knack for eerily accurate self-premonition. Preacher’s Daughter certainly left a hole, and it certainly changed my life, but only on the outside. All the songs I wrote for it were about characters, a girl in a “faraway” place living her “faraway” life, albeit still parallel to mine, but wholly detached from me. Willoughby was doomed to be closer to home. I wrote Nettles and Waco the same week, the first week I spent in the Alabama house where I would finish Preacher’s Daughter after so many years of trying. The difference was I wrote them about me. There were no characters at first; it was just me. In fact, I wrote them in an attempt to hide from Ethel Cain for a moment. She eventually devoured those little ditties too, of course, as she always does. In hindsight, I’m glad I had to share them with her. I couldn’t have carried the full weight of them myself, I know that now. My premonitions were out in full force; over the course of the next few years, I’d script out my own life in the same morbid fashion I always have. Maybe it was a lesson in not training my eye downward as I’ve spent the majority of my life doing.

I had 3 weeks for the holidays between mixing and submitting Perverts and jumping back into the maw of taming an unfinished Willoughby Tucker. I spent the first three months of 2025 on probation, unable to go much of anywhere, awake only when the sun was down. I’d never mixed a record of that magnitude, which was daunting with deadlines immovable. I remember 9am on my 27th birthday rolling around after being awake for hours whittling away at mixes, announcing the album and entire tour before going back to mix an album that still wasn’t done. I’ve never cried so much finishing a record, and that was before it was even out. Combining your Saturn return, your first shot at true love, and the longest tour of your life is something I would never recommend to anyone. It was the death of both ego and everything around it. I couldn’t be more grateful. Never in my life have I been so turned inside out, so uprooted and unraveled. Looking back, I needed it more than anything.

Thank you to everyone who listened. Ethel Cain and Willoughby Tucker will always be my children, my burnt offerings, what I leave in the storm. Sometimes I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I also fear it’s the only way. Ethel Cain, Willoughby Tucker, I really will always love you. I feel as though in this moment here, saying goodbye, you and I are closer than ever. I hope you can forgive me.

[itssootiv]

how could i go about snorting a line of Tempest ??

tips and tricks? tutorials preferred.

[tankhall]

i think the most beautiful thing about being a human is the capacity to change

[haybellewrites]

you ever read one of your old fics and think "damn past self. you went hard on that one. i'm so proud of you." while simultaneously thinking "future self got to get their shit together and actually write something, i mean come on now."

[candlesoul]

mood

[tankhall]

ethel cain live at red rocks, photographed by enoch chuang

[bewbin]

dude honestly shout out to my guards i told them to seize this guy and before i could even finish my sentence they soze him. My goats

[tankhall]

photography by @expiredidealist

[tankhall]

photography by @expiredidealist

[fairycosmos]

what if i just manipulate reality with my mind and make everything perfect and good

[kosmogrl]

[honeypiehotchner]

birthday wishes -- Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader

yes I did write a short Jack fic for myself on my own birthday, and what about it? (the gif is unrelated honestly it just does Something to me)

Summary: You never really celebrate your birthday, and you're hoping it'll go by this year without any fanfare. Jack has other ideas.

Warnings: none! very fluffy! angst if you absolutely squint

WC: 1.3k

You walk into the ED for your shift expecting to spend your birthday in peace -- well, as peaceful as PTMC can get. But the most important factor is that no one knows it’s your birthday. No one has said a single word about it all week, and you absolutely have not brought it up.

You’re still pretty new to PTMC and to Pittsburgh in general, so you don’t exactly have friends. You at least get along well enough with your coworkers, but you wouldn’t go as far to say you’re friends with them.

Regardless, you have no plans, so you thought, why not? You’ll work on your birthday. It’ll make the day go by faster, and at least you’ll be spending it doing what you love, and mostly unbothered. Again, as unbothered as you can be in the ED, but the chaos here is welcome. Familiar.

What’s not welcome or familiar is the giant Happy Birthday banner with your name on it waiting for you in the break room.

You freeze in the doorway, hoping your eyes are betraying you. Please, dear god. 

But they’re not. No matter how many times you blink, that fucking banner is still there, the table still has an obnoxiously delicious looking cake on it, and there’s a card standing up next to it.

You rush over and swipe up the card, hoping the inside will tell you who’s responsible for this. But it doesn’t. It just says Surprise! in neat handwriting, with a few other sweet messages from night and day shift alike. 

It is sweet. It is. It’s just unexpected.

You sigh and place the card back where it was. You pour yourself some shitty coffee and head back out to the nurse’s hub.

That’s where you spot Princess and Perlah. It clicks, then. Of course. Those two are always at the heart of any mischief around here.

“There’s the birthday girl,” Princess grins.

You lean over the counter, staring both of them down. “Traitors. Both of you.”

Perlah laughs. “We didn’t set up the party in the break room, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“But--” Your eyebrows furrow. “Then who…?”

They share an exchange in Tagalog, and you’ve never wished more than you do right now that you knew the language. One day, you’re going to start taking lessons just so you can surprise them and join in on their gossip.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” you huff. 

“Don’t tell you what?” Robby says, sidling up next to you at the hub. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, glaring up at the board like it'll tell you who ratted you out.

“Or…not,” he furrows his eyebrows. “What, not excited to be a year older?”

“At least I’m not as old as you,” you reply with a smile.

“Ooh, ouch,” he laughs. “Got it, no more birthday talk.”

“Kind of impossible with that huge ass banner,” you mutter. “Do you know anything about that?”

He mimes locking his lips and tossing away the key. You narrow your eyes at him. Fine. So it’s not him, Princess, or Perlah who are responsible, but they all know who is. Great.

As long as no one gives you a sash that says happy birthday to alert every patient you see, you suppose it’ll be fine.

And it is fine. You get a lot of birthday wishes from everyone, even some students that are in for the day. You eat two slices of cake for lunch (healthy, you know). You run down the list of who it could be, trying to gather intel from everyone to see if anyone will tell you who did it. But no dice. Not a single one.

The shift draws to a close far too soon for your liking. It just means you’ll be going home to your empty apartment, alone. Normally, you’re ecstatic about that. But even you’ll admit it’s a little sad on your birthday.

But there’s nothing you can do about it, so you trudge on, welcoming each of the night shift as they come in.

Soon, it’s time for shift handover, and then for you to leave.

You grab your things from your locker before remembering that you have a card in the break room. The cake is probably mostly gone by now, but the card is sweet, so you’ll take that home.

You’re halfway through a yawn when you walk in, so your vision is a little blurry, but once it clears, you see him.

You rub at your eye with the heel of your hand. “Jack?”

He smiles at you from where he stands next to the table, his hands behind his back. “Hey.”

“But you’re not working tonight,” you blurt. He's not wearing any scrubs, just a black t-shirt and dark jeans. You can see the indentation of his dog tags. “What are you doing here?”

“Saying happy birthday to my favorite night shift doctor,” he says. “Even if she abandoned me a month ago.”

You roll your eyes. You switched to days because it was always in your agreement with Gloria when you were hired that you would try both, just going wherever they needed the help the most. Jack likes to joke that you up and left him out of nowhere. As if you didn’t tell him two weeks before your last night shift.

“You’re never going to let that go, huh?” you sigh, but you’re smiling. It’s hard to ever be annoyed with Jack, even playfully. Even on the nights where neither of you could agree on anything, you’d be laughing by the time the sun rose. “You didn’t need to come in, though.”

“Oh, I did,” he says seriously. “You can’t work all day on your birthday and not have cake.”

You laugh, but it dies quickly when you realize what he’s implying. “Wait. You--” You pause, all the pieces clicking into place. This being set up when you walked in this morning. Everyone else on day shift knowing who, but not you. “You did this?”

He nods. “Set it up just before I left. I thought you were going to catch me, but you were a little late this morning.”

“By five minutes!” you exclaim. And only because you snoozed your alarm one too many times, telling yourself you deserved it on your birthday.

“I’m not complaining,” he grins. “It gave me time to get out of here before you saw. Heard you were annoyed.”

“I wasn’t-- Only a little.”

“Well,” he chuckles. “Forgive me?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Forgive you--? Jack.”

His hands that had been neatly tucked behind his back pulled forward to reveal a small giftbag. In your favorite color.

You can’t help it, you glare at him. But you’re fighting a smile. “You already got me cake. And told everyone my secret. Now you got me a present?”

He laughs. “That’s why I said to forgive me.”

“Fine,” you huff, fully smiling now. “I forgive you. I guess. But I’m not opening this in front of you.”

“Fair enough,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender as you take the bag from him. “Any plans now that you’re free?”

“Sleep?” you laugh. “Maybe. I don’t know. I should probably eat. I’ve only had cake -- which was amazing by the way. How’d you know my favorite kind?”

He shrugs. “Because you told me.”

Your eyes dart to his. “Oh.”

You have no clue when you told him your favorite kind of cake, but apparently you did. Apparently you mentioned it at some point, and he just filed it away for later.

He smiles so, so softly. “How does dinner sound? With me.”

“Jack…”

“Not as a birthday thing,” he continues, “if you don’t want it to be. It can just be dinner.”

You stare at him, giftbag in hand, exhaustion on your shoulders, and you smile again. “It can be a birthday thing,” you say quietly.

His eyes light up with hope. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “So we better go before I change my mind.”

“Then we’re leaving right now,” he says seriously. “Come on.”

He grabs your free hand like it’s natural, and you hold on like it’s normal, like the two of you always hold hands. Like he always picks you up after shift and takes you to dinner.

You’re well aware of the watchful eyes following the two of you as you leave, and you know it’ll spread through the night shift crew like wildfire. You know you’ll have to answer for this in the morning.

But right now, lacing your fingers through Jack’s as you walk toward his truck, you don’t care.

[nocturniko]

i feel like a lot of fandoms pride themselves on being gayer than the source material but have they considered being less racist and less misogynistic than the source material as well . could be revolutionary

[mephistopheles]

some of yall need to go back to like preschool level 'girls can do anything boys can do' feminism bc we are regressing into feminine = frivolous = weak = nurturing and masculine = power = force = competence at the speed of fucking light