Sapathetic

Got tumblr for a silly boat movie whoops

[effervescentyellow]

Old guys not in a boat but close 🥹

[ofchaosgoddess]

help I’m having ideas beyond my available free time

[sapathetically]

Procrastinating all my other projects to make messy doodles of things no one asked for? Couldn’t be me.

(modern AU genderbends 🙃)

[effervescentyellow]

<3

(You can buy a copy of this photo for $1,395 on ebay)

[seasidesandstarscapes]

TBITB + Guide To Troubled Birds #2

[pillowspace]

I don’t want to put random tumblr users on pedestals but sometimes I remember all the cool people I’m somehow mutuals with and I’m like woah. How

[seasidesandstarscapes]

TBITB + Guide To Troubled Birds #3

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Yeah okay @dogwooddiaries reminded me of this so get ready for the best/worst thing you’ll ever see Luke in

[seasidesandstarscapes]

@sapathetically prepare urself

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Via redboxpix on Twitter

( @sparrow-in-the-field)

[wolfythewitch]

First | Prev | Part 13

[seasidesandstarscapes]

If I Die Young

Summary: It’s D-Day and Jim is thankful he doesn’t have to face it alone

Rating: T

Genre: WW2, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Developing Relationship, Angst, Character Study, One Shot

Words: 184

-

AO3

Or

In.

The waves hit the steel, a drumbeat against the tumultuous current.

Through.

Cold ocean spray hits his face but Jim does not shiver. Beads of sweat coat his forehead, the gun is slipping in his hands.

Eyes up.

For a moment, he’s back on the Cut. He can feel the knocks on the shell reverberating through his veins.

…

The jolt is too sudden, gunfire crackles. One man after another crumples, forcing him to climb over his fallen comrades.

In.

Ducking down offers no comfort, the crossed beams of wood mock his fear. Blood spills across the sand and wailing fills his senses.

Through.

The tug on his sleeve shoves him back into his body, he blindly runs into certain death.

Eyes up.

Shorty holds tight, keeps his gaze on Jim. In the shell, Shorty never looked back with such fear, such desperation.

…

The explosion sends them flying, the sky spins. Then, Jim is screaming, clawing at Shorty’s too still body. He begs the gods to give him back, but his cries are lost amongst the crashing waves, the water turning red with sacrifice.

[sapathetically]

I love the tbitb casting but I also wonder what was the mental math with teaching a bunch of unknown British actors to row on the spot instead of finding some American rowers who can deliver like two lines. 🫠

[effervescentyellow]

Poughkeepsie bridges then and now

[arokel]

                   🌙                              ✨       

   ✨ ✨ ✨

                                ✨                                      

 ✨                   ✨           ✨                   ✨                                 ✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~⛵️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_________________________________

                                                        ⛱️

                        🦀🥂🦀

      🪣

if the formatting breaks I’ll cry

I have left this inexcusably long but in honor of summer have a very-belated 20 sentences (by my count)! not much of a sneak peek since the full fic should be posted tomorrow, but the grind never stops

"Okay, as team captain I'm asking you this in total confidence: how do you stop an erection?" Jim looked up from his half-packed suitcase, uncomprehending, as Roger's words filtered belatedly through his airpods. Then he choked on nothing but his own spit. "Jesus Christ," he said, reduced to coughing for a second before he could say anything more eloquent than profanities. "Are you twelve?" "No! I just…" Roger's face was flaming, but it was too late to take the words back. He soldiered on. "When I was twelve I always used to just try to hide them." "Why can't you hide it now?" That was a valid question, even if it stemmed more from Jim's desire to end the conversation and get back to his podcast than any genuine attempt to help. It was also a question Roger wasn't sure he could answer in the few hours Jim had left in Seattle. He sighed, shoulders sagging despite his best efforts to look unbothered by the brush-off. "It's… complicated." "I dunno, man. Meditate or something?" Jim turned back to his suitcase, a clear indication that he had nothing left to say—but not before adding a snide, "not sure what's so complicated about a boner, though. They're about as straightforward as you can get." It wasn't complicated, really, Roger acknowledged as he made his way back to his own room. The problem was, as Jim had said, very straightforward: sometimes, it turned out, childhood dreams didn't mesh all that well with adult realities. And the reality was that Roger's dream was scheduled to come true in less than twenty-four hours, and he wasn't at all sure he would survive it.

[stitchposts]

unfortunately i have free will so im about to make art that is going to appeal to basically 4 people. let us hope those 4 people follow me.

[effervescentyellow]

Love this honor society/club that’s actually just 1/3 rowers

[sapathetically]

in celebration of @arokel resurrecting A Sidewalk Full of Cracks, some sketches of my favorite photos of eurotrip summer from the Moch Collection since taking photos is banned. (Not to my knowledge otherwise published? But I’m not the photo wizard around these parts so who knows LOL.)

For context these were referenced off photos that were around 1inx2in so the lack of faces is authentic to the experience 🫠

Chuck and Roger with some random Italian dude (Venice boat guy…? Maybe?)

Chuck and Roger posing next to someone’s laundry (?) in an alleyway

This alleyway photo is actually my favorite photo of Roger, here’s what it looks like with a magnifying glass:

Bonus Bobby assistant coaching because I realized he’s behind the camera in all of the eurotrip photos