Avatar

I'm not really there

@blu-be / blu-be.tumblr.com

Formerly blu-b or bluebutterflywrites. Writer. Aidean / Britchell / FiKi / Gross Poldeggan shipper. She / pan.
Avatar

MY BLOG IS BACK

FUKCING HELL!!!! I just tried to retrieve more of my old fics via other tumblrs when I noticed I could access the sideblog @hiddengodsandvampires. I tried the main blog and....it’s there! It’s really there! @blu-b 

Image
Image

Okay, I’m gonna reblog as many fics and edits from there to here as I can, so please block/blacklist the tag ‘rescue post’ if you don’t wanna see that.

Avatar
reblogged

If Ross hadn’t been so self righteous towards George, maybe Ross could have had a positive influence on George.

Avatar
blu-be

They look like they enjoyed a wild night at the beach and now come morning they’re both a bit embarrassed and don’t really know what to say to each other and just generally…. George: “Shall we…” Ross: “No!”

Avatar

Fucking shite

I lost 991 followers on my old blog, gained 66 back here, and one if them is a fucking porn bot already??? Are you fucking kidding me tumblr??? Staff’s not able to tell me why my blog was deleted, or to un-delete it, but porn blogs can roam this site freely?? I reported the hell out of every porn bot that followed me on my old blog and nothing ever happened - and now I’m gettng them here as well? Fuck this shit, tumblr, seriously, fuck you!

Avatar
reblogged
Avatar
lovethatcoat

that german feel when you see your american/british/australian friends post something about eating healthy and losing weight and therefore eating no more bread because bread is unhealthy and evil and you get personally offended for 5 seconds until you remember oh yeah right they don’t have any proper bread

Da muss man auch so furchtbar vorsichtig sein, wenn man das schneiden will. Der kleinste Druck, und das Brot ist hin. Da lob ich mir ein deutsches Roggenbrot - egal, ob man da mit dem Brotmesser rangeht, oder dem Allesschneider, das Brot hält.

Paderborn, Regen, 11° - das Brot hält

Freiburg, Sonne, 27° - das Brot hält

Kiel, Wind, 5° - das Brot hält

Deutschland - auf Brot gebaut

Avatar
blu-be

For better understanding:

German bread - straight from the pits of hell ^^

Avatar
reblogged

This article just pissed me off. That was after I stopped cringing. 

Don’t get me wrong, I find Aidan Turner seriously attractive, but a lot of that attraction is from qualities besides his looks. Then I read the caption under his picture and that just pissed me off even more because he is a serious actor and seeing him reduced to facial expressions and body parts is demeaning.

Plus it pissed me off. 

If this were written about the female cast of Poldark, people would be crying sexism. 

Double standards, much, Jezebel?  PS: This is what women experience all the time. 

Avatar
blu-be

It pisses me off even more because AidEn and WarleggEn....ugh!

Avatar
reblogged

A nearness to Tremendousness

They had a celebration that night, brandy and meat pasties Prudie had made, the room decked with the last flowers, grasses going pale, a few hot-house roses Caroline brought with her. It was a small gathering but on it went for hours, Caroline and Dwight the first to arrive and then so many others, Demelza’s brothers who’d only known a white face under a white cap, miners, farmers, each ready to drink a toast and shake Ross’s hand. Ross told stories and so did the others if they could, of her exploits and epigrams, of cards laid on a marquetry table, invocations and slyness and unexpected sweetness. No one left remembered her young. But there were those who’d known her in her prime, when she left for balls in a carriage and sat in the first pew in the church, when her voice had rung out without a crack in it.

There was music—hymns she would have grimaced at and airs on the flute she would have preferred, nodding and tapping her foot along with her stick. Ghosts attended: Francis in a frock-coat, bright-haired Julia running about, Ross’s father sitting in his chair as he always had, glowering until he couldn’t keep his face from a grin. Candles lit every window but they did not have a bonfire; Ross’s hands near-ruined from the grave. There were no tears shed and even Clowance, up too late, didn’t cry.

Agatha Mary Poldark had a party.  

You are using an unsupported browser and things might not work as intended. Please make sure you're using the latest version of Chrome, Firefox, Safari, or Edge.