wooden clips

Pay Attention or Pay The Consequence

You were never a very academic student. The only thing you liked about assignments was the fact that you could doodle on them to pass the time. One class that doodling was prohibited was Calculus. Mr. Kim never intimidated you, until now.


You doodled on the edge of your notebook, adding to the growing collage on the once blank paper. Calculus was your least favorite subject. Not to mention you pretty much hated school and all it stood for. The other students gawked at you from afar. How could you dare disobey the most strict teach in the school?! You were a rebel even if you hadn’t realized it yet.

Mr. Kim’s voice was pushed to the back of your mind. His boring tone and the sound of chalk scraping on the chalk board could lull you to sleep. At least you were awake. The bell rang and you thanked any God that would listen. You reached down to grab your bag but a wooden ruler clipped your knuckles.

“What the hell?!” You shouted. The man, the myth, the legend stood there towering over your desk. His eyebrows were drawn together under the thin frame of his glasses. His plump lips turned down into a scowl.

You had to admit, Mr. Kim had it going on.

Mr. Kim snatched your notebook out from under your hand and scanned the multiple drawings. You were a talented artist that was for sure. The look on your Teachers face said otherwise.

“These are not notes on Arithmetic, young lady.” The last student went scurrying out of the room with the slam of a door. Mr. Kim slammed down the notebook on your desk. You jumped slightly and felt fear rush through your veins. Mr. Kim pinched he bridge of his nose. “I’ve gave you countless tries to act on your own initiative Miss Y/n.”

Mr. Kim’s voice echoed throughout the room as he licked the door. Now why couldn’t he have this voice when teaching? The low, husky tone that made your thighs tighten. Mr. Kim circled your desk much like a vulture. His slick black shoes were nearly noiseless on the pristine white floor.

The crack of the ruler wrapped against your hand again. This time you yelped and hugged your wounded hand close. “What gives?” The older man said nothing. He went back to the tall, leather chair and leaned back. With a smooth smirk he rested his chin on his hand.

“Y/n, we need to discuss your punishment. Step forward.” Mr. Kim used his finger to beckon you forward. At first you were frozen solid until the man slapped his hand down on the desk. “My patience is wearing thin.” At that, you slowly stood and flattened down your skirt. The lump in your throat grew stiffer. His stiff and proper hair didn’t even move an inch when his head cocked.

“Yes sir.” Mr. Kim’s eyes darkened a single hue. He held out his long arm and started plucking at the buttons on the sleeve. Without removing his eyes from you, the teacher rolled down each sleeve and allowed his tongue to swipe over his lip.

This wasn’t happening. No, you were just daydreaming in Calculus again. But your feet were already moving. Before you realized it, you were standing between Mr. Kim’s feet. Chin to your chest, nothing could hide the deep blush on your cheeks. The wooden ruler was placed under your chin and pushed upward sharply.

“Eyes on me young lady.” There it was again. The gush between your thighs. You nodded once and Namjoon took away the ruler and sat it on the desk. “Good girl. Now pull down your skirt.” You were awestruck. There was no way this was happening.

“I don’t think-” Namjoon cleared his threat and your blood ran cold.

“What was that?” He teased. You licked your dry lips and reached for the zipper of your skirt. Slowly pulling the zipper down you eventually gained the nerve to remove it completely. You could tell Mr. Kim wasn’t amused. “Panties down too, little girl.”

“What! No!” You shook your head frantically. Mr. Kim shrugged and fixed the frame of his glasses.

“We can stay here all day.” It was weird. This feeling in your stomach. On one hand this was wrong, on the other, it was soooooo right. Who were you to not be a teachers pet? With a huff, you hooked your fingers in the lacy underwear and pulled them down to your knees. “So well behaved. Bend over the desk.”

Your cheeks sat ablaze. With a thick gulp you followed his instructions. Your nails dig into the thick wood and the sound of the chair rolling echoed in the empty room. “You have a Mr. Kim quietly hummed to himself until his large fingers grazed over your ass. A tiny gasp escaped you, but was quickly reprimanded by a slap on the butt. Your knees buckled. Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the groan.

"No speaking.” That cold voice was back. Mr. Kim grabbed his ruler and trailed it over each ass cheek. You quietly peered over your shoulder to see your teacher lazily tracing the wood with interest. His eyes randomly shot up and saw you staring. That’s when the first hit came. Your mouth fell in a loud intake of breath. You bit your lip to stay quiet and pressed your forehead to the cold wood. What the hell were you doing? This was like some shitty porno that the boys in your class would watch.

Slutty school girl and hot teacher.

“Good girl. Four more.” The second hit was harder, striking across both ass cheeks. This time the gasp left without permission. Two more strikes followed the first.  “Each time I hear a noise, you earn another strike. We don’t want that do we?” Mr. Kim’s hand cupped your inner thigh, pushing you further on the desk. His small chuckle vibrated your body.

“My, my! These pretty little thighs are already drenched.” Another hit. Mr. Kim soothed the skin with his plump lips, allowing you a second of relaxation. Then came the final hit. It was harder than the rest and you could tell that wasn’t even at it’s full capacity. But you could feel the skin rising in harsh welts. “Y/n, what do you say?”

Your mind went blank and another hit landed on your left ass cheek. “T-thank you sir!” Mr. Kim laughed and rummaged in his drawer. “This is hand lotion. Not exactly for this purpose but it’ll have to do.” The cold sensation on your burning cheeks caused you to squeal. Mr. Kim gently soothed you with a hush and a gentle touch. Who knew that the boring, fucking sexy, Calculus teacher had all of this underneath?

“That was good Ms. Y/n.” His strong hands grasped your waist and tugged you backwards into his lap. You helped in shock but his hand cupped your mouth. “How about we discuss extra credit?”


green witch altar set 🌿 on etsy

This set is a little bit out there. It’s very traditional and tied with nature but does contain some very strong items like teeth, bones and a polecat paw. For all the committed green and earth witches.

Currently being the biggest altar kit in my offer, this round metal box (10cm in diameter x 4cm height) contains:

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My plan to extend my chastity: Part 2

So as I mentioned in part 1, my plan is to seal my chastity cage key away in a jar candle to extend my chastity period.

I decided to try and use a crocodile clip taped to a pencil to hold the wick in place as the wax melted. I was worried about thermal shock (the glass cracking with sudden heat) so I used the lowest setting on my electric hob.

It took about 30 minutes to go from picture 1 to picture 6 in the collection below. One thing to bear in mind is that the wax expanded and came very close to flowing over the top of the jar. You can see this in picture 6. I turned off the heat under the candle at picture 5 so that it would start cooling soon after the last of the wax melted.

I had to redo the tape on the crocodile clip at this point as it was coming very close to slipping out into the wax.  I also repositioned the wick back into the middle of the jar and used a wooden clip to stop the pencil from spinning.

I know it looks like the candle wax has set in picture 7 but it took 2 hours to go from picture 6 to picture 7. At this point, I placed the candle in a bowl of old water to finish the setting of the wax.

As you can see in pictures 8 and 9, the candle is back to its original condition with the addition of the chastity cage key at the bottom of the jar.

So it seems that my plan has worked well so far and now I shall see how long it takes me to earn back the key.

anonymous asked:

cute school supply hacks? preferably for an older look --

-Buy a nice washi tape and wrap it around wooden pencils

-Decorate binder clips with washi tape 

-Tie ribbons onto paper clips 

-Decorate notebooks and binders tumblr style with a stuff you like or tailored towards each class (Pictures below) 

-Make your own pencil cup holder 

-@alittlediy has a few other stuff under her back to school tag 

-also for mature looking school supplies use solid colours more than prints (not that prints are bad!)

(credit to the owners of the photos) 


Compact Clip point .

9 inch overall old high carbon saw blade steel , etched and stonewashed for an aged effect .

Brushed Wenge wood to reveal the grain over double copper clad G-10 liners copper & brass Loveless bolt , hammered copper pins and brass lanyard tube.

 Custom knives , sheaths and gear from rtknives@hotmail.com

plants don’t have ears ( ao3 / ff.net )

my lone entry for yukine week! also I love suzuha/yukine. it’s pure.

“…I really don’t get it.”

“What—that plants are like people?”

“Yeah,” Yukine retorts. “Because they’re not like people. They’re plants.”

Suzuha stands a little way down the hillside. He leans back, balancing his trowel against one shoulder, with the other hand resting on his hip. He has to squint to look up at Yukine, since the sun has begun tipping toward the western horizon.

“You sound like someone who’s never gardened,” he comments with a grin.

Yukine glares down at the sad patch of brown stalks by his feet. Next to Suzuha’s realm of vivid, upright green, his own experimental plot looks like it’s been deprived of light for a year.

“There’s…probably a reason for that,” he mutters, kicking a pebble down the hillside.

Suzuha looks at him for another second, his sunny grin still intact. Then he sighs, swinging his trowel down to tap against his thigh.

“I’ll try to explain it better,” he says patiently. He walks up to stand a little way across from Yukine, with the dying plants in between them.

“All living things have the same basic needs. Once you understand that, you’ll have gardens growing all around you.”

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okay so one time back in grade 7 my class had an assignment where we had to design and create an invention for helping other people then present it to the class. At that time my next door neighbor had multiple sclerosis and was almost always in his wheel chair. My mother was his carer and one afternoon i was telling him about my day and watched as he struggled to balance his food on a stable table. At that moment i knew exactly what I was going to make. It took hours of searching the most common types of wheel chairs, heaps of money (which we didn’t have much of) to get the materials and a fair bit of tricky wood work but i was absolutely determined to make my project the best i could. Finally when it was done I took it over and tested it on his wheel chair and my god did he love it. It was a wooden tray table that clipped onto the arm of the wheel chair and had a cup holder and non slip material. He used it everyday until I had to take it in for presentation.

Now i was sure that i would get the best mark in class for my project. it met all the requirements and i had worked extremely hard on it. But when i got my mark back i had only just passed with a C. I went up to the teacher thinking there had to be a mistake of some kind. Even now I still remember exactly what she told me, word for word, “Sorry Cassie but that’s not exactly a useful tool for everyone now is it. There aren’t that many people in wheel chairs, it isn’t worth it to us in the same way the other children inventions are.” But the boy who taped a stick of deodorant to a fucking piece of wood got a fucking A!! As if that wasn’t an idea already thought up. For fucks sake he did it that day, literally drew up the plan that morning!

Look I know this is a big long post but I am saying this to point out Ableism is a big, important issue. I gave that tray to my neighbor, despite the school saying they had to keep it because it was technically “school work” and he used it until the day he died. And after that he gave it to a friend to use it. I made three others for more of his friends when he had to move into a home and they loved them because even in a place that was supposed to cater to their needs a stable tray that would not fall off their knees was apparently not something they had thought to provide, especially to people with inhibited dexterity. And yeah this probably had been made before at the time when I was making mine but looking now the cheapest I can find is at least 50 bucks! Hardly assessable for people with little money.

Years later and my blood still boils when I remember that the kid with stick deodorant got a better mark then I did, that his “invention” was considered useful while mine was not. I am still so angry that a school teacher would tell a child that what they had built to help someone they cared for was not useful or important or wanted or needed and that those people were so few and far between that they didn’t matter. That the only thing that did matter was US, the able bodied people. I didn’t quite understand the way I do now at the time but I was still upset, my mother was pissed as hell and my neighbor, well when I told him it looked as though he had expected it.

These issues need to be addressed, and they need to be fixed. Teachers at schools separating the able bodied from those who aren’t and putting the able bodied above them only continues the discrimination and the attitude that there aren’t enough disabled people to really make it an issue worth their worry.

tldr: Albeism is taught from a young age to not only be the norm but to also be taught to the point where making everyday simple things for disable bodied people isn’t worth their time, effort or focus

Fic: Act Three, Scene Five - 1/3 (The Vampire Diaries; Stefan/Caroline)

Fandom: The VampireDiaries

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: CarolineForbes/Stefan Salvatore

Summary: “But you? Oh you.” He runs the rest of his fingers through her hair, and reaches up to caress her cheek with the thumb of his other hand, “What you wouldn’t give to be in my shoes.” A post 6x17 fic.

Author’s Note: What’s this? A multi-chapter fic? Really? I don’t even know to be honest. Part one is based off of speculation and clips from the promo for 6x18, but after that it veers off in a different direction. Enjoy?


Part One: Rising Action

His lips are hot and insistent trailing down the side of her neck.

And in that moment the tiny part of her mind that screams to be heard, the artfully buried voice of reason, of right and wrong, is finally silenced completely.

She just doesn’t care.

Because this? This is exactly what she wants.

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Room Ideas

After a long tiring day, it feels good to lie down on your cozy bed especially if the sheets are clean and the room is so relaxing to the eyes. Other people might not see what is inside it but it is where you recharge. Some people might refer it as the happiest place on earth because it is where they feel comfortable and can do whatever they wanted to.

It does not matter if your room is not that spacious. We will work on that. You can put some wall decor to spice it up and make it look stylish and functional at the same time. You do not need to spend a ton of money to make it look more stylish! You can use your resources and do some DIY stuff. 

1. Old woods

Salvaged woods can be obtained from construction sites or old buildings. It can be used as a headboard of your bed, or hanging shelves.

2. Christmas lights

Since Christmas lights can only be used once a year, why not use it throughout the year? Use these lights to give a dreamy-effect to your room! You can add some polaroid pictures as well using wooden clips to add a vintage look.

3. Old magazine and stationery

Tear off some pages of an old magazine which you think will look good on your wall especially on your study table.

4. Rods and Pipes

Use rods or old pipes (Tip: Add some paint if it is a PVC pipe since it is usually blue, or it depends on you!) 

5. Plants

Cut some plants from your garden and place it on your study desk or shelves. Tip: Cactus can be used to capture a perfect flatlay so it can occupy a bit of space on the items that you are going to take a picture of.

Turn your boring room into a haven for relaxation. Unleash your creativeness using some of these hacks!

Disclaimer: Photos above are not mine. Credits to the owner.

Damaged Goods

Sam imagine requested by puffthemajicdragon! This imagine has been edited for reposting, and due to the time I originally posted this, I no longer have the original request. I can, however, supply a basic outline: “Sam returns from a hunt battered and bruised, leaving the reader to bandage him up.” Hope you like it!

The door clicked closed around two in the morning, a phantom visitor helping themselves into your borrowed motel room, your eyes snapping open like a spring-loaded window shade after years being coiled and once being let down from it’s perch above the glass. Hunters are light sleepers for one reason and one reason alone; padlocks and dead bolts, chains and barricades, none of these devices of safety, no matter how advanced, would keep a monster at bay. Your nerves buzzed to light, heat prickling throughout your body, carried on flames as your veins ignited, your muscles warming for action as your body stilled beneath your blankets. You silently slipped from between the sheets, crouching by your bedside, your hand reaching underneath your pillow for the pocket knife you had hidden there, your fingers brushing against the wooden hilt. The floor cooled your bare feet, your fingers fiddling with the notches on the side of your knife until the shining metal blade slipped free of its shelter, your breath shallow in your chest as you brought the weapon to your side. You heard heavy footsteps limp into the motel kitchen, hidden from your view by drywall and the sickening darkness. You were completely alone in the motel room, your boyfriend was out hunting. Had something followed you here? Or did something follow Sam? The chances of you being tracked were high, if they’d watched Sam leave for their lair. You situation was less than ideal. Just you, a monster, and a whole lot of vulnerability.

You were about to break for the window, the simplest escape you could think of in the heat of the moment, when the lights flicked on, banishing all chances of remaining unseen with one muffled click. Your eyes were drawn to the slumping figure in the door frame, your vision focusing on Sam, his face bloodied, one of his grime-caked hands applying pressure to a gaping wound in his arm. Vibrant blood was seeping slowly through his fingers, his shirtsleeve stained red from the liquid. His eyes, half closed, exhibited his exhaustion as they scanned the room for your form, focusing on the top of your head beside the bed before dropping to your face. His cheekbone was swollen from a blow to the face, his lip splitting at the corner of his mouth, a smudge of dried blood painting his brow. In short, he had been clobbered half to death. The man could barely hold himself up without the support of door frame by his shoulder. The hunt had obviously taken a turn for the worse, leaving Sam in poor condition, dark bruises already forming by his cut lower lip and smarting along his jawline. He was breathing heavily, his hair sweat-drenched and adhered to his face, a steady trickle of blood originating from his nose free falling from his chin, more minor lacerations decorating his hands, his actions to clear his forehead of hair leaving blood swept carelessly into his sticky hairline.

“Sam!” you cried, racing to his side as he leaned forward, his face numbing as he lost his balance, your body catching his mid-collapse, a defeated rush of air escaping from his lungs to rush over your face. His feet stumbled as he struggled to right himself, his attempts weakened by the drainage of his adrenaline supply. He reeked of all of the scents that accompanied a fight; sweat, blood, dirt, the likes, his body warm with expended energy, his skin feverish to the touch. You crutched his limping, battered body to the bed, his body landing atop the unmade sheets with a fatigued huff, his face tight with pain, his eyes closed against the stinging of his wounds, wrinkles appearing on his forehead as his face scrunched. He exhaled again, squinting up at you from the bedspread, a halfhearted smile testing his bleeding lips to the point of cracking, his grin soon transforming to a wince.

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, tired, his effort to appear untouched tangible in the stagnant air you shared. “I’m home,” He grinned, though his eyes were pained behind his smile. You rushed beside him, easing his hand away from his dirtied shirt, scoping out his would-be battle scar; a slash of a knife having cut him, deep, among the graveyard of scattered scars already gracing his body from similar injuries. He winced, a line of blood running ground-ward from his cut, the thin line of crimson contrasting sickeningly against his tanned skin, a ruby trail warning of pain and violence. You relocated his hand back to his wound, pressing your palm to the backside of his hand to remind him to apply pressure, racing to your duffel bag on the floor across the room. You unzipped and rooted around inside for your first aid kit, the bottle of brandy you kept by your bedside your next target once the plastic medical box was in your hand, snagging the glass container in your other. You jogged back to Sam, dumping your supplies on the bed beside his body, opening the first aid kit to remove gauze, bandages, a spool of medical thread and a needle, plopping yourself onto the bed by Sam. He flinched at the movement your sitting beside him caused, staring at the materials you held, his brow knitting, displaying his excitement about the plans ahead.

You blindly pressed the bottle into his hand, waiting for him to grasp the neck, your eyes flickering to the glass as his hold shifted, leaving a bloody, grimy hand print where his hand had been seconds before. You shook the image from your memory. One wound at a time. Your priority, of course, was the gash in his arm. Your fingers began rolling his sleeve up his arm, careful of his injury, every flinch against his body earning a hiss from between his thin, pursed lips, his mouth closing around the bottle, drinking to reduce the future pain. You took the alcohol from him, filling your cupped palm with the amber liquid and splashing it against his flesh, handing the bottle back before he could cry out, his eyes screwed tightly shut.

“Drink,” you ordered, wiping the surrounding area of his wound, snatching the bottle from his lips after he took a considerable gulp, dripping the amber liquid over his injury, his muscles tensing as the alcohol bit at his open wound. You handed the bottle back to his waiting hand, threading the needle as quickly as you possibly could to minimize the amount of blood that could pool before you started sewing, the tension beneath Sam’s skin pumping more blood to his jagged cut. Sam hissed softly, his breath calm as the needle wove through his skin, the pain weak in comparison to being disinfected without warning, your fingers threading the string in and out, tying his skin back together. When you had finished, you leaned your mouth to his bicep, your teeth biting the excess string clean. You reached for the bandages, eager to protect his new stitches before he could do anything to tug them free. You pressed a wad of gauze to his stitches, unraveling a roll of bandages with your other hand. He lifted his arm at your touch, allowing you to wrap around his muscles again and again, winding the fabric, your fingers brushing his exposed skin. He sighed, taking one last swig from the bottle before laying it on the floor, the glass clinking against the wooden boards. You clipped the bandages down with a metal clasp, finished at last with your first repair. The entire process had taken you seven minutes, a personal record. Needless to say, you’d done this before. Sam still looked terrible, but the booze had helped greatly with his tolerance of the pain. He sighed, thankful, as you took a rag to his lip, dabbing gently at the split in his tender skin and clearing the blood. “What happened?” you asked, your voice tainted bu worry. You cleaned the blood from his mouth, moving to wipe at the blood coming from his nose, erasing the trail. “Pinch,” you added, watching as Sam tipped his head back, fingers pressing the rag to his nostrils, closing off his airway.

“I just… I didn’t see it before it was in my face. Vamp grabbed my machete, got in a good lick before Dean went guillotine on her,” he grumbled, his voice a slightly nasally groan beneath the gravel of his throat. You swiped the dried blood from his forehead, your hand slicking his hair back, fingers tangling in the strands behind his head, clearing his face.

“Will you at least try to be more careful? I don’t like sewing your limbs back on, Sam,” You chided, pecking his cheek, pulling away to reach for the hem of his shirt, intending to clean up the sources of the smaller spots of blood on his chest, but Sam’s hand closed around your arm, holding you to his chest, his eyes on yours.

“I was careful,” he whispered, his voice soft. Your breath hitched, his lips inches from yours. “I promise. I’m bound to get hurt every once and a while. I’m sorry,” he breathed, voice gruff, yet feather light. You smiled, his hand relaxing on your arm. You leaned away, your fingers running down over his cheek, lifting the hem of his shirt to his chest, trying to remain focused on your job… but he was beautiful. Sam raised his arms, gasping quietly when his shoulder flexed, your hands guiding his shirt over his head. His chest was covered in shallow scratches, probably from being knocked to the ground, nothing a little clean-up couldn’t fix. You set to wiping the blood away, Sam’s breath displacing your hair every few seconds, his body heated beside yours, his hand on your thigh. He traced circles by your knee absentmindedly as you finished wiping away the thin lines of blood, his ticklish actions scattering your thoughts.

“All done,” you proclaimed, tossing the bloody rag across the room and into an unassuming laundry heap. When you turned your face back, Sam had shifted closer, his hand raised, fingers tilting your chin upward, his lips dusting over yours. He was sweet, soft, loving in his movement, his lips pulling at yours, the tip of his tongue tickling you, just barely there. His hand grazed from your chin to your cheek, moving behind your ear to secure your mouth to his, lips moving with yours in a slow, delicate dance. He pulled away briefly, his breath cooling your lips.

“Am I forgiven?” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours,, brows lifted in inquiry when your eyelids fluttered open, your mind fogged with bliss. His dimples threatened to show through his playful facade. You rested your forehead against his, ducking your lips to his, leaning into his waiting embrace. Sam chuckled, separating himself from you. “I take it that’s a yes?” You silenced his laughter with your mouth.

ArtemisGarden’s Planner themed giveaway!

I know some of you saw my post from yesterday. Zach and I were at Target in the dollar section and I found all of this adorable valentine’s/pastel planner stuff that was going fast. So, I decided to scoop some up and do a giveaway because I know I follow a bunch of planner addicts and I think a few of you follow me back!

Onwards to the pictures of the goodies!!!

First Prize:

  1. Planner inserts-6 tabbed dividers, 78 weekly pages,18 monthly pages (Fits 7 x 9.125in planner)
  2. Planner insert part 2- 3 pocked dividers and 80 lined sheets of paper. (Fits 7 x 9.125in planner)
  3. A tear away mini calendar and note pad
  4. Textured Heart Stickers
  5. LOVE note cards (8 count)
  6. Phrase Page Flags (20 sheets each)
  7. 2 pack of 50 count sticky notes

Second Prize:

  1. Hanging Chalk Board
  2. Planner accessories kit- pages flags (25 sheets for each color) mini sitcky notes (30 sheets each color) list pad (60 sheets. fits 7 x 9.125 in planner) and 58 stickers
  3. Thank You Very Much Note cards (8 count)
  4. 3 Mini Highlighters
  5. 4 pack of mechanical pencils
  6. Pastel wooden clips

Now the RULES

  • You can reblog this as much as you’d like! (Try not to spam your followers please)
  • Likes don’t count
  • You DO NOT have to be following me to win
  • Open to US residents ONLY (Because I can’t afford international shipping)
  • DO NOT tag as a giveaway
  • Giveaway blogs DON’T COUNT! (I will check to see if you only post giveaways before I announce the winner)
  • Please have your ask box OPEN.
  • Winners must respond within 24 hours or I’ll pick a new winner.

This contest will run from today January 17th until January 31st, 2016. IT WILL CLOSE AT 11:59 PM EST ON JANUARY 31ST 2016 and 2 winners will be picked February 1st, 2016

This giveaway is for fun and not to gain followers, it is NOT affiliated with Tumblr in any way, shape,or form.