#it already has over 100 likes and its been up for an hour

[rowenas-my-fave-child]

SOMEONE SPRAYED FUCKING PURFUME ON THE TOILET PAPER AT SCHOOL AND SAID “spraying purfume on the toilet paper to give the girlies a spicy surprise if they decide to wipe today🥰” ACTUALLY WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MY SCHOOL

[administer-distractions]

.

[no-passaran]

Genocide experts warn that India is about to genocide the Shompen people

Who are the Shompen?

The Shompen are an indigenous culture that lives in the Great Nicobar Island, which is nowadays owned by India. The Shompen and their ancestors are believed to have been living in this island for around 10,000 years. Like other tribes in the nearby islands, the Shompen are isolated from the rest of the world, as they chose to be left alone, with the exception of a few members who occasionally take part in exchanges with foreigners and go on quarantine before returning to their tribe. There are between 100 and 400 Shompen people, who are hunter-gatherers and nomadic agricultors and rely on their island's rainforest for survival.

Why is there risk of genocide?

India has announced a huge construction mega-project that will completely change the Great Nicobar Island to turn it into "the Hong Kong of India".

Nowadays, the island has 8,500 inhabitants, and over 95% of its surface is made up of national parks, protected forests and tribal reserve areas. Much of the island is covered by the Great Nicobar Biosphere Reserve, described by UNESCO as covering “unique and threatened tropical evergreen forest ecosystems. It is home to very rich ecosystems, including 650 species of angiosperms, ferns, gymnosperms, and bryophytes, among others. In terms of fauna, there are over 1800 species, some of which are endemic to this area. It has one of the best-preserved tropical rain forests in the world.”

The Indian project aims to destroy this natural environment to create an international shipping terminal with the capacity to handle 14.2 million TEUs (unit of cargo capacity), an international airport that will handle a peak hour traffic of 4,000 passengers and that will be used as a joint civilian-military airport under the control of the Indian Navy, a gas and solar power plant, a military base, an industrial park, and townships aimed at bringing in tourism, including commercial, industrial and residential zones as well as other tourism-related activities.

This project means the destruction of the island's pristine rainforests, as it involves cutting down over 852,000 trees and endangers the local fauna such as leatherback turtles, saltwater crocodiles, Nicobar crab-eating macaque and migratory birds. The erosion resulting from deforestation will be huge in this highly-seismic area. Experts also warn about the effects that this project will have on local flora and fauna as a result of pollution from the terminal project, coastal surface runoff, ballasts from ships, physical collisions with ships, coastal construction, oil spills, etc.

The indigenous people are not only affected because their environment and food source will be destroyed. On top of this, the demographic change will be a catastrophe for them. After the creation of this project, the Great Nicobar Island -which now has 8,500 inhabitants- will receive a population of 650,000 settlers. Remember that the Shompen and Nicobarese people who live on this island are isolated, which means they do not have an immune system that can resist outsider illnesses. Academics believe they could die of disease if they come in contact with outsiders (think of the arrival of Europeans to the Americas after Christopher Columbus and the way that common European illnesses were lethal for indigenous Americans with no immunization against them).

And on top of all of this, the project might destroy the environment and the indigenous people just to turn out to be useless and sooner or later be abandoned. The naturalist Uday Mondal explains that “after all the destruction, the financial viability of the project remains questionable as all the construction material will have to be shipped to this remote island and it will have to compete with already well-established ports.” However, this project is important to India because they want to use the island as a military and commercial post to stop China's expansion in the region, since the Nicobar islands are located on one of the world's busiest sea routes.

Last year, 70 former government officials and ambassadors wrote to the Indian president saying the project would “virtually destroy the unique ecology of this island and the habitat of vulnerable tribal groups”. India's response has been to say that the indigenous tribes will be relocated "if needed", but that doesn't solve the problem. As a spokesperson for human rights group Survival International said: “The Shompen are nomadic and have clearly defined territories. Four of their semi-permanent settlements are set to be directly devastated by the project, along with their southern hunting and foraging territories. The Shompen will undoubtedly try to move away from the area destroyed, but there will be little space for them to go. To avoid a genocide, this deadly mega-project must be scrapped.”

On 7 February 2024, 39 scholars from 13 countries published an open letter to the Indian president warning that “If the project goes ahead, even in a limited form, we believe it will be a death sentence for the Shompen, tantamount to the international crime of genocide.”

How to help

The NGO Survival International has launched this campaign:

From this site, you just need to add your name and email and you will send an email to India's Tribal Affairs Minister and to the companies currently vying to build the first stage of the project.

Share it with your friends and acquittances and on social media.

Sources:

India’s plan for untouched Nicobar isles will be ‘death sentence’ for isolated tribe, 7 Feb 2024. The Guardian.

‘It will destroy them’: Indian mega-development could cause ‘genocide’ and ‘ecocide’, says charity, 8 Feb 2024. Geographical.

Genocide experts call on India's government to scrap the Great Nicobar mega-project, Feb 2024. Survival International.

The container terminal that could sink the Great Nicobar Island, 20 July 2022. Mongabay.

[Maps] Environmental path cleared for Great Nicobar mega project, 10 Oct 2022. Mongabay.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Could you do reader and rafes reaction to when they found out easer is first pregnant for the force’s marriage au? LOVED the first part!!

First pregnancy || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: this fic is a 100% how i think rafe and reader would react in this situation

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, angst if there's anything else lmk

Word count: 1,457

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You flip over the pregnancy test, your heart sinking as you see two lines. Of course. It was inevitable, given the life you’ve been cornered into. You sigh, throwing the test into the bin with a mixture of resignation and dread.

Leaning against the cool marble sink, you catch your reflection in the mirror—your eyes heavy with a sense of inevitability that’s become all too familiar. The pristine bathroom feels suffocating, its sterile white tiles and polished fixtures reflecting the stark reality you’re trapped in.

Leaving the bathroom, you make your way downstairs to the living room, each step heavy with the weight of what this means. Rafe had left for work a few hours earlier, leaving you alone in the house. It’s been this way for a while—his absence during these crucial moments only magnifies the distance between you.

The quiet of the house, broken only by the soft footfalls of the servants, feels more isolating than comforting. In the corner of your eye, you notice Anita descending the stairs. She’s one of the few people who’ve been with you since you were young, a steady presence in the chaos of your life.

You assume she’s just finished cleaning your room, making everything perfect as always. “Anita?” you call out, your voice softer than intended. She stops, turning to you with a gentle smile that’s both comforting and bittersweet. “Yes, Miss?” she replies, her tone warm and familiar. You look up from your phone, hesitating for a moment.

“Not a word to Rafe, please,” you say, your voice firmer this time, carrying the weight of the secret you now bear. Anita’s eyes soften with understanding. She doesn’t need any more explanation. “Of course, congratulations to you both. Your parents will be overjoyed, they’ve been waiting for this,” she says before continuing on her way.

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from your lungs. Of course, your parents would be thrilled. This is all they ever wanted from you and Rafe—a continuation of the family bloodline, a legacy to carry forward. They didn’t care if the two of you were unhappy, if this marriage was more a prison than a partnership. As long as the family name persisted, nothing else mattered.

~

"Where is she?" Rafe's voice echoes through the quiet house, sharp and impatient. Anita’s calm response cuts through the tension. "She isn’t feeling well, Mr. Cameron," she says, her tone polite and soothing. Rafe grunts in acknowledgment and takes his seat at the dining table, his eyes scanning the empty chair opposite him—usually filled by you each morning.

Later that day, as you and Rafe drive to your parents' house for lunch, a wave of nausea washes over you. You place one hand protectively on your lower stomach, the other coming up to cover your mouth as you close your eyes and focus on steadying your breath. Morning sickness has been relentless lately, more intense and persistent than before. While you’ve managed to keep it hidden from Rafe up until now, the strain is starting to show.

Rafe’s gaze flickers to you briefly, his eyes narrowing with concern. Without a word, he reaches into the console and retrieves a bottle of water, handing it to you with an absent-minded flick of his wrist. He doesn’t even glance at you as he passes it over. "Thanks," you murmur, your voice barely audible as you unscrew the lid and take a slow sip, your eyes fixed out the window.

As the car rolls to a stop in front of your family estate, Rafe is already unbuckling his seatbelt, eager to get this over with. But before he can move, you reach out, your hand covering his, halting his actions. He glances at you, confusion etched across his features. You swallow hard, struggling to find the words, your eyes searching his before you turn away, staring blankly out the windshield.

You feel his gaze on your side profile, waiting, perhaps sensing the gravity of what you’re about to say. "I'm pregnant," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air between you, heavy and unyielding. You feel Rafe tense beside you, the atmosphere in the car growing thick with unspoken emotions. His reaction is immediate and sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Are you seriously telling me this right now? Just before we see your parents?" His voice is laced with anger, catching you completely off guard. You turn to face him, your expression one of disbelief. Is he seriously getting mad right now? Of all the reactions you had braced yourself for, this wasn’t one of them.

"I just told you we're having a child, and this is how you react?" you snap, incredulous. Your disbelief quickly morphs into anger as you watch him look away, his jaw clenched in frustration. His silence only fuels your rage. "Fucking unbelievable," you mutter under your breath as you unbuckle your seatbelt and shove the car door open.

The door slams shut behind you with a resounding thud as you storm toward the front entrance, your emotions boiling over. You’re only a few steps away when you hear Rafe’s car door fly open, followed by the sound of his voice, sharp and laced with frustration.

"What do you expect me to say when you just laid that out on me?" he calls out, his anger evident in every word. You whirl around, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your eyes narrowed as they lock onto his. His expression is a mix of confusion and fury, as if he’s grappling with the enormity of your news and how it collided with the timing.

For a moment, neither of you speak, the tension between you crackling in the crisp air. "I expected you to care!" you finally snap back, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. Rafe’s eyes widen, caught between defensiveness and something that almost resembles guilt. "I do care," he retorts, his voice softer now but still edged with frustration. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you.

"But you couldn’t have picked a worse time to tell me. We’re about to walk into your parents’ house, and you drop this on me like it’s nothing?" You can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips. "You think I planned this? That I wanted to tell you in the driveway? I’ve been dealing with this alone, trying to figure out how to break it to you. But every time, you’re either too busy or too angry for me to even get a word in."

His expression falters, and for a split second, you think you see a flicker of understanding in his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar mask of indifference. "And you thought now was the best time?" he asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you ask, your voice raw with emotion. "That I should’ve kept it to myself? Pretended everything was fine until it wasn’t? We’re having a child, and I needed you to know before we walked in there and pretended to be the perfect couple again."

Rafe looks away, his jaw clenched tight as he struggles to process the situation. You watch the conflict play out in his eyes, the tug-of-war between the emotions he’s expected to feel and the reality of what he actually feels. His frustration is palpable, and after a tense moment, he sighs heavily, bringing his hands up to massage his temples.

"Can we just get through this lunch, please?" he finally says, his voice soft, almost pleading. His tone catches you off guard—there’s a vulnerability there that you’re not used to hearing from him. You stare at him, torn between wanting to push the conversation further and knowing that now isn’t the time.

His request isn’t unreasonable, but it stings nonetheless, a reminder of the emotional distance that still exists between you. "Fine," you reply after a moment, your voice tinged with resignation. "But this doesn’t change anything. We still need to talk about this—really talk about it."

Rafe nods, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "I know," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the unspoken hangs heavy between you as you both turn toward the imposing front door of your family estate, ready to face the charade of normalcy that awaits inside.

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason is a hopeless romantic 100%

it just doesnt show

But everyone goes to him whn its time to plan dates

Dick: Hey, can I ask you something?

Jason, reading: No.

Dick: You see, Wally and I have our weekly date night coming up, but we've been to pretty much every place there is. You got any ideas for how to shake things up?

Jason: *scribbles coordinates and tosses him the Bat-plane keys*

[later]

Wally: Wow, I've never been to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Dick: I'm glad you like it.

Dick: *texts Jason a thumbs up*

Jason: *read at 8:55 PM*

———————

Tim: Jason, glad you're here! I totally forgot it's me and Bernard's six-month anniversary. Help me out, man.

Jason, clipping his toenails: Fine. You better write this down 'cause I'm only saying it once.

Tim: *nods*

Jason: Go to Home Depot. You're gonna need some rope, a tarp, hammer and nails, a hatchet, matches, and fuel. After that...

Tim: *furiously takes notes*

[later]

Bernard: A camping trip was a great idea. It's nice to get away from it all. And I can't believe you set this all up yourself.

Tim, chuckling nervously: What's a boyfriend for if not to build a tent and chop down a tree?

———————

Duke: So the school dance is coming up.

Jason, working: Theme?

Duke: Under the sea.

Jason: Ugh, how cliché. Anyway, Armand's Tailoring has a blue suit that'll match whatever your girlfriend's wearing. Tell him I sent you. After that, call Patricia's Bistro and make a reservation with the code word "surreptitious." Alfred can take you in the limo if you give him a 24-hour heads-up to clean it. Once you're there, remind the DJ he owes me a favor to get your song requests bumped up. And remember, a slow dance is basically moving your feet in a square but otherwise go with the flow.

Duke: Sweet, thanks!

———————

Cass: Steph is sad.

Jason, cooking: *sighs*

Jason: *takes out a tub of ice cream*

Jason: *scoops a hole in the middle*

Jason: *fills it with candy*

Jason: Here.

Cass: Thanks!

———————

*phone rings*

Jason, waking up from a nap: What?

Kory: Sorry if I woke you. Barbara's coming over for breakfast in half an hour but I burned it with my powers. It was supposed to be eggs benedict.

Jason: Order takeout and put it on fancy plates.

Kory: You're a lifesaver—

Jason: *already hung up and went back to sleep*

———————

Kate: It's Renee's birthday tomorrow. I have a gift, but I'm not sure if it's good enough.

Jason, polishing his gun: If it's from you, it will be.

———————

Bruce: *walks in*

Bruce: Hey, son. Selina's not talking to me after our argument. How do I tell her how much she means to me?

Jason, reciting Shakespeare: I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, "I love you."

Bruce: You're right. I'm just gonna tell it to her straight. Thank you.

Bruce: *leaves*

Jason: *takes off his headphones and turns around*

Jason: Did someone say something?

———————

Damian: Todd, what is love supposed to feel like?

Jason: Why do you want to know?

Damian: None of your concern. Now tell me.

Jason: *shoots a training dummy*

Jason: It's when they're lodged in your head like a bullet. Except without the excruciating pain and messy red stuff.

Damian, nodding: Tell me more.

———————

Roy: *takes down a villain*

Jason, sitting on a roof: *wolf whistles*

Roy: The hell?

Jason: I know hot when I see it.

Roy: What are you doing here?

Jason: I brought Arrowdogs.

Roy: You hate Arrowdogs.

Jason: But you don't.

Roy: Aw, how sweet—EYES UP HERE, TODD!

[bengals-barnesbabe]

mrs. burrow blurb…

825 words for anyone wondering

◎ ｡ ﾟ ❁ ﾟ ｡ ◎ * You've been drooling at your phone for hours (10 minutes) just waiting for your stud of a husband to get home from practice.

All your social media has are pictures, videos and gifs of your man just owning his practice look- well his Bengals gear. But no one should look that damn good at work, unless they're getting paid to. And last time you checked he was getting paid to throw a ball and run away.

"Baby!"

You jolt up from the couch to the sound of Joe's voice coming in from the garage.

"Where are you gorgeous?"

"Living room!" You respond with a smile in your voice.

You see him before he sees you, of course considering he's 6 '4 and 220 lbs of fine ass man. He comes in decked out in his "lady killing" gray sweat shorts and a tie dye muscle shirt with his practice bag swung over his tan broad shoulders.

"Well don't you look comfy." He chuckles nodding at your current state of being wrapped in a blanket like a caterpillar in its cocoon.

You smile unwrapping yourself and standing to your much shorter stature, not that it's ever been a problem for him. "You look like you want every woman within 100 miles to start ovulating."

He snorts and rolls his eyes before pulling you into his arms for a strong yet soft, comforting hug.

"I missed you." He mumbles into your 3 day twist out.

"You smell heavenly, oh I missed you too." He pulls back a bit with a blush heating his cheeks.

You chuckle as he composes himself. "I don't know what's going on with you today, but I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

Then dips his head to press his lips to yours. You hum sweetly into the kiss and rise to your tiptoes to reciprocate the gentle motions.

He pecks your lips once more before pulling back and smiling.

"I baked today." You beam.

His brows quirk up. "Oh yeah?" You nod and lead him to the kitchen. He sits at the counter as you place a cake plate in front of him, then lifts the translucent glass to reveal a sweet lemon Bundt cake.

"Wow."

You bite the bottom of your lip while cutting him a piece then handing it to him along with a fork.

"Thank you mamas." He says then takes a bite out of your homemade creation. You watch intently as he closes his eyes and throws his head back with a moan.

"Do you like it?"

"Oh yeah, fantastic. You did your thing baby." He responds, finishing the rest of his cake.

The joy you feel as the man you love cleans his plate is incomparable. Well you could compare it to the lust you feel when his body engulfs yours in any and every way.

Like when he walked in from an 8 hour practice looking like straight sex on legs. You'd never know how sexy a bleached buzz cut could be until he waltzed in that day.

There's nothing better than a man that just gets better with age.

"Babe?"

You shiver at the tone of his voice as he wakes you from your daydream. You lock eyes and let out a deep breath.

"Fuck, get me pregnant."

He steps down from the stool and smirks. "I think we already have that covered."

Still entranced in his beauty, you pout then feel a warmth around your midsection. You look down to see his hands rubbing on your bump, because you're 7 months pregnant. Which is why he said he was glad you were feeling better, because ever since your 3rd trimester started you've had more downs than anything.

"Babygirl must be having a quiet day if you somehow forgot about her." He jokes. You chuckle and place your hands on top of his.

"I didn't forget, I must've fallen asleep after baking. Then you walked in and I couldn't think of anything else." Then as if she was being summoned, your little girl starts to kick against his hands.

Joe kneels down and kisses your stomach. "I guess she was just trying to give her stunning mama a little break. Ain't that right Deya?"

"Deya?" You tilt your head amusingly.

"I've heard 'who dey' so much today, it's stuck in my head. I just wanted to try it out. What do you think?" He rose to his full height.

"Like Adeya Burrow? It's cute, we can put it on the list."

"Yeah?" He smiles. You nod.

"The list is getting pretty long though, we're gonna have to make a decision soon."

Your husband takes your hands in his and brings them up to kiss them. "We have time, but I think we have our two finalists."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought. At exactly 35 weeks, your twin girls Adeya and Ariel Burrow, were born. A surprise but the most loved and adored surprise they'd ever had.

Main Masterlist

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Danny desperately wants to find the explosion guy. Tim is really good at covering his tracks... he didn't account for ghosts.

The explosions make it onto TV as purported terror activity and most people haven't heard of that part of the world much less ever given a second thought to care about it. The only real reason it gets reported on has something to do with the Justice League and... Danny knows too much.

He's been in training for Clockwork's court (which he's suspicious of- feels like kingly duty bullshit- but Danny is playing along out of curiosity for now) and he's learned a lot about how the living and non-living worlds collide. That means learning about CW's usual suspects- one of which just happened to have a ton of bases around the area Danny was seeing on the news.

It didn't take long for Danny to try to piece together that whoever blew up Nanda Parbat was trying to fuck with the League of Shadows, and was doing it successfully. Less green portals in the world the better, same goes for assassins. But it gets Danny thinking... Maybe he can employ similar tactics on the GIW Bases that keep spawning on the edges of Amity Park. It would at least set them back while he and his friends navigated the help line desk to request Justice League intervention. None of them can leave Amity Park, so outreach is going to have to be creative.

So Danny figures he'll just find the guy. Call up some ghosts who were there, or er, came from there and get a profile and track him down. But the ghosts keep saying it was The Detective. Annoying!

Danny goes full conspiracy theory, gets Tucker and Sam involved, and begrudgingly asks Wes Weston his thoughts.

He hadn't expected Wes to garble out a thirty minute presentation (that had 100 more slides left to go before he cut it off) about how Batman totally trained with a cult and so did his kids. Danny kind of rolled his eyes but... hey, new avenue of searching in the Infinite Realms at least.

The ghosts confirm that Bombs is for sure not Batman's MO- But maybe his second kid would know? The second kid was already brought back to life though, so no way to easily reach him... Danny starts to realize that this might be the work of a Robin now. Wasn't the red one known for solving cold cases? (Sam provides this information- its a social faux pas to not know hero gossip at Gotham Galas- everything she's learned is against her will).

It all comes to a head when Danny goes about the hard task of opening a portal for the guy to come through at just the right time, explain the infinite realms so he doesn't panic and then describe what the fuck was going on with the GIW. It takes months, just over a full year, of random (educated guesses) portal generating- Finally, Red Robin drops into the land of the dead.

"So, you're the guy I've got to talk to about explosions right?" Danny enthusiastically asks.

Tim thinks he's died and landed in the after life following 56 hours of being awake and plummeting off the side of a building into a Lazarus pool. Nothing makes sense about the kid in front of him.

"Yeah, I got a guy for munitions." Tim answers cooly.

"How do you feel about secretly sanctioned government operations that violate protected rights?"

"Gotta get rid of 'em some how. Need me to point you in the right direction?" This might as well be happening.

[morggo]

Hi. I set up a GFM to help with urgent needs. If you enjoy my work, consider donating. If you can't donate, please share.

I really appreciate any support.

Details of the GFM are under the cut.

Hi there, my name is Morgan, otherwise known as Mx Morgan professionally. I am an artist, freelancing illustrator, retail and wholesale clerk living and working in the PNW. I'm here to ask for assistance with getting rent paid for me, my partner, and cat, and assistance to pay for my medication.

This year has been difficult, especially the summer. My partner was laid off her job because the business she worked at was not making much money. She was on unemployment from February to June and has been unable to work due to complications from mental illness and medication she was taking at the time. Since then, I've been helping her with day-to-day needs and picking up 100% of our expenses (previously we paid 50/50 on rent, bills, etc.). Currently, I am working three jobs - my retail job, my freelancing job, and a voluntary job at a game studio. My retail job has been having difficulty making expenses to stay open, and my hours are now 10 hrs/week. A lot of my freelancing work has been significantly reduced; I currently have a few open jobs, and the money made from those has gone directly to bills and rent. Therefore, I have been unable to set aside a percentage for quarterly taxes, which leads to penalties and fees (I already owe the IRS about $12k, and I am finding what options may be available to me). The voluntary game studio position is just that - it's a voluntary position that I give the least amount of my time to, and I continue to do so because it genuinely brings me some joy and things are moving forward despite personal setbacks.

I am currently looking for another job and part of a temp agency's hiring pool; however, I cannot move forward to hiring because my social security card went missing, and the card is required for work. I have a replacement on its way, but it will take about another week from this date.

Now, onto rent. My landlord was generous in allowing us to pay the outstanding amount of rent over the month of September. My rent for September was $1951.30, and mostly from freelancing, I have been able to bring that amount down. The amount left to owe is $1096.30. However, there's the issue of October's rent being due, and the way things are going, I will not be able to pay for that either, making the total amount due $2656.30. Our landlord utilizes Ratio Utility Billing System with little to no transparency of how the amount is divided among tenants, so my utilities can wildly fluctuate, often making my rent amount unpredictable. Some tenants have paid $60 for electricity while others have to pay $300, for example. Yes, I have brought up concerns. No, I have not received any solutions.

Breakdown of payments made for the month of September.

Amount paid so far.

Total amount remaining for September, along with rent that is due October 1st.

There is also the issue of health insurance - I have lost my health insurance due to not receiving letters (mail was stolen) asking for my income, so my coverage was terminated. I have reapplied and was approved, but my insurance is not available until October 1st. I have, after GoodRX coupons, about $82 worth of medication I need. Currently, I am out of amlodipine, which manages my high blood pressure. I am out of my anxiety medication and just winging it at this point.

Breakdown of medication, with prescriptions obscured for privacy.

All that said, the amount I am asking from GoFundMe is assistance for 1.) the past due rent 2.) medication and 3.) assistance with October's rent, if able. At minimum, I would like to get the past due rent paid off and be able to get 2 medications I am low on, if I cannot get the full amount for all my medication. At best, I would like to meet the goal and have everything caught up. I have a couple of jobs lined up, but I am likely not seeing any payment until mid-October, and by that time it may be too late to pay for any rent.

Any excess of donations will go toward other aid for friends and colleagues that have been impacted by this year. The sad fact is, I'm not the only career artist who has been affected by loss of work and life complicating things further.

Other than GoFundMe, if you would like to help me and get a little something out of it, I have a ko-fi shop with originals and downloadable licenses. I would be crowdfunding through there, but Stripe takes a percentage for processing and it's all counted for taxes. I'd like to keep business and gifts/donations separate for tax purposes. Typically, I would share my other shops, but due to the urgency of this situation, I will not be promoting them here. A free way of helping is simply sharing this GoFundMe.

My long term goal is to find a stable full time job, file for bankruptcy, and step away from freelancing. At this moment, I simply need help for now.

I think that's it for now. Thank you, take care.

Morgan

[rxzennia]

thrice shall the bell toll

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 expands on 2.2 leaks, dark content towards the end, character death (everyone dies), heavy angst(?), not proofread. totally did not die a little inside when i wrote this, no. thank you all for 100+ followers! gold and gears, achievement grinding are driving me nuts and seeing everyone else get him makes me want to quit the game altogether. perhaps it’s time i focus more on other things. 

“never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

the musicians begin to play with rigor as the symphony enters crescendo, building up to its climax as the orchestral music increases in intensity and irregularity. the choir sings, paving the way for the descent of an aeon, of justice; their harmony announcing the impending doom of the sinner, promising his demise, promising him eternal rest.

you arrive at the central plaza, just in time for the closing act.

you meet sunday’s eyes, the bastard head of the oak family, the mastermind conducting this cacophony of noises and disturbances. he has the gall to smirk, to flash you a smirk, as if he’s daring you to do anything.

“aventurine, ambassador of the interastral peace corporation.” sunday stalks around the man bound in shackles, like predator circling prey, hands behind his back as he looks down at him with contempt. “you are hereby found… guilty.”

the baton descends – with it, the melody dramatically tips over its climax into decrescendo. 

people often say that death has no place in a dream of prosperity and privilege. 

but when the distinction between dream and reality blurs as the very dimension crumbles, who’s to say that to die is to wake, and who’s to say that death is not still death?

in his last moments of consciousness, aventurine sees you reach for your scarf with an expression he had never seen before. acceptance, perhaps? or disappointment? regardless, you have still chosen to surprise him at his last moment. must you continue to exceed his expectations even at his execution? but both you and he know that it is already too late, and his final solace is that you are present to witness the final chapter of his story.

that he is not left behind again.

the golden hands come full circle, palms closing as the strings lift their bows in unison, leaving only the winds to continue playing. the conductor drops their baton as the inevitable quickly encroaches upon the center stage, as the music ceases until only a sole trumpet remains sounding –

he closes his eyes with a last smile for you; aventurine has finally won, at the cost of losing everything.

once shall the bell toll, for the blessed prisoner condemned to a life of deceit and insincerity.

in a split second, the sky darkens; what used to be perpetually golden and bright has been eclipsed without a trace. the artificial sun goes out, street lamps are extinguished, a veil of darkness envelops the golden hour. what was once paradise becomes the abyss, and lament stands where joy once stood. 

your scarf flutters to the ground as you give it a strong tug, undoing its loops around your neck as you let it fall. you are half-expecting a gasp followed by a waterfall of words, but it never comes.

because there is no source. aventurine isn’t here anymore. 

there’s no more of your boss staring at you with the most awestruck expression as you reveal your face anymore. there’s no more of your boss’s endless pestering anymore.

there’s no more of aventurine opening up to you, getting you to open up, or him tentatively trusting you with fragments of his past anymore.

for the first time, you experience anger. a wrath so intense that it is enough to set even the heavens alight.

it’s about time someone ripped up this disgusting dream woven with fabric made of lies. this facade of extravagant luxury built upon a decaying foundation and the desperation of the masses’ escapism, a nightmare delicately packaged into fantasy that had stripped countless people of their ambitions and futures, it’s about time someone demolished it all.

the dreamchasers who voluntarily surrendered their realities for a temporary escape, the family members who could only obey, the heads of families who put together a ploy like this, and the harmonious strings who composed such a chaotic melody…

none of them matter. 

all that matters is that aventurine is executed, publicly, in utmost humiliation.

your scarf disintegrates into tiny specks of dust. brilliantly platinum scales extend from your fingertips to your jaw, threatening to stretch along your face, too. as if answering your call, serpents emerge from all corners of your shadow, slithering off towards all directions as they respond to your will.

in the sky that is pitch black, even darker shadows rear their heads; they fly, circle around the plane of the masterfully crafted illusion, around penacony itself. they await your orders, they await your next command. 

“eat up, my darlings.”

twice shall the bell toll, for the manufactured illusion of utopia drowning in the afterglow of opulence.

there is a reason why oroboros the voracity has kept to themselves in an unseen corner of the universe – they are not titled the unsatisfied devourer without reason.

with each corner you take for your own sustenance, you feel the universe tilt. the scales are tipping, the balance is tipping. with each piece of reality you consume, the boundary between subconscious and conscious blurs, falsehoods bleed into truth, and you feast upon them all the same.

in your rage, you are not merely tearing lives and environments apart. you are tearing religions apart, tearing peoples apart. worshippers and monuments of xipe the harmony, their symbols and their emanators, the hard-built resort destination called the dreamscape, and the plainly unremarkable penacony in reality, you are tearing it all apart.

you know you have upset the balance, and you know the consequences. you can hear the crystalline chime of the arbiter’s footsteps approaching you, you can almost see the blinding white light of the operating theater.

as the planet of festivities begin to fall out of orbit, so too do the serpents begin to decompose into glittering ashes. 

people scream as gravity somersaults, some swallowed by the caving ground, some swallowed by the gaping maws of the faceless serpents, and some dying by the hand of their kin as they struggle for survival.

you watch impassively as mortals scramble to prolong their lives, and you watch impassively as your serpents are lost, one by one, to the hands of an aeon.

if the mere handwave of an arrogant upholder of justice and a simple declaration are justification enough for an execution, for what reason should you not return the gesture?

if people would simply watch as someone is served the death penalty, what reason do you have to act as they become feed one after another?

and what reason do you have to cling onto mortal sentiments, now that your anchor to mortality is gone?

the man they killed is aventurine. your sometimes-too-annoying boss that you would not trade for anything in the world. your anchor; your dear, dear friend.

you see no reason to rein in your instincts anymore. the primal urge to consume overwhelms you, and all you want to do is to devour, devour, until there is nothing left.

voracity. oroboros’s will.

eat up while you still can, fill your metaphorical stomach with the blood of implicit killers, and tear into the flesh of the perpetrators of this grave transgression.

make them pay. before your judgement rains upon you, before the trumpeters herald your doom, before the star radiating false light meets its end in a supernova, make them pay.

their surgery is swift and painless – precise incision; two, three motions of the scalpel; complete excision.

at long last, the curtains fall. theatrics reach its conclusion, and when you look – there is no one left in the audience. 

thrice shall the bell toll, for the leviathan whose fury burned brighter than the ordinance of equilibrium.

[k-atsukibakugou]

w/c: 0.8k tw: uh i don't 100% know what this is or what it will become, this scene was just haunting me as a daydream lmao; i imagined this with bakugou but never wrote his name lmao; f!siren reader, implied yandere

"who is she?" your voice choruses inside his head before the heavy wood has even latched closed, the chorus mostly playful, the teasing curve of your lips clear you didn’t think he’d notice one in the chorus with the mean tone, insecurity and jealousy weaved into its disembodied voice, no matter how you tried to hide it with hundreds of other voices overlapping the others, the same question on repeat.

“how did you get in here?”

“how do you know you haven’t let me in before?” aloud, your voice is even more powerful, his spine straightening minutely despite the exhaustion setting in his bones. even with his muscles fighting his instincts to remain upright, he studies you lazily, his gaze trailing over your hands; holding the book on his coffee table in the same spot he held it, his thumbs in place beneath yours just hours earlier. he wonders if he’ll be able to feel you on the pages after you leave, if your fingerprint will linger like your perfume.

there’s some kind of domesticity to it, he thinks, your hands settling in the same place as his, your comfortable pose on his couch, your insatiable need to know about him, to see inside him, your need for him to engage like a schoolgirl tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. if the schoolgirl was blood thirsty.

“so, who is she?” your tone is even, your jealousy masterfully disguised by a practised playfulness, the twinkle in your eye unmistakable when you search his face for any tells for his supposed lover. you finally stand from his couch, placing the book back in the exact spot he had it, down to the millimetre (had you been here before? would he know?), leaving your jacket on the couch, the sweet scent already seeping into the fabric. you were good at that, ensuring you were always on his mind, with your perfume, with all the criminals dazedly walking into police stations holding their own wanted flyers with his name scribbled on it beside your own. gifts, you’d called them the first time he’d caught you in the act.

“has to be someone special, hm? you’ve never left me waiting before.”

your voice is just a whisper, a tiny worm wiggling its way into his nervous system, forcing his gaze to yours (he has just enough self control to steel his eyes, to keep his face indifferent as his body fought to react, to give in). staring up at him, you carefully examine his features, the way you’re reflected in his pupils that nearly swallow his iris whole, the ring of colour proof of his stubbornness, of his power to resist your compulsion.

“there is no she, i was out cleaning up your mess.”

you raise your hands in a display of innocence you don’t deserve, slinking closer to the light he sought his shelter in.

“my mess? i convinced a criminal you’ve been searching for to walk into your agency. you should be thanking me.” the worm is more the size of a caterpillar, growing evermore with the echoing chorus of your voice, the same you’d have done to the man earlier in the evening; a tauntingly slow build up of your compulsion until it had taken hold.

his voice joined yours in ordering him, his head hurting from the resistance, thank her. thank her. thank her. thank her. squeezing his eyes shut, his lips part involuntarily, his tongue straining to speak, to form the syllables you compelled him say, “i don’t need to thank you for shit.”

his back tenses, shoulder blades pinching together in the effort to resist you, a headache forming behind his eyes the longer you stared at him; pain pulsing with every ignored syllable.

he’d given in once, the first time he saw you, before he knew how to resist. before he knew how relieving it was to give in; the sound of your honeyed voice something he craved every day since, the echo of your command like a warm stream of water rushing down his spine, the weightlessness of pleasing you, every hum of approval like a hit of nicotine.

you pout, “the others are more grateful.”

your perceived inability to break him haunts you, he can tell, you itch to feel him give in, to have a man of his power under your thumb. a toy for your entertainment. he’d give it to you, he’d tell you how he craved the feeling of your hypnosis, if he knew you’d still send him your ‘gifts’, if you’d still sneak into his house just to see the flash of shock on his face, if you’d still obsess, if he knew he wasn’t just a challenge. the unbreakable man, broken.

instead, he tries his best to keep an indifferent, slightly amused, expression firmly on his face, watching you flit about his apartment like you belonged, like you weren’t more tempting than the forbidden fruit, like submitting wasn’t a worse fate than mortality. his body screamed at him the longer you stayed near, blood, muscles bones and nerves begging to rest, to get closer, to run; the need for you prospering in the dark recesses of his mind when he takes one step closer.

“i’m not like the others.”

[kurishiri]

02 . . . happy birthday, alfons! ˗ˏˋ🪞´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: none; alfons is actually pretty soft in this chapter!

In my own way, I thought that it was a plan for a wonderful birthday.

However, such plans would soon be riddled with trouble...

Kate: Wh—!? They’re closed...?

When we arrived at the restaurant I had reserved for lunch, there was a sign that said ‘CLOSE.’

Alfons: ‘The restaurant’s owner contracted a sudden illness,’ so they say here, I see. Well, such cases do arise once in a while.

A: How about we visit another restaurant then? Is there anything in particular you’re craving now?

Kate: In that case, we should eat what you want. You’re the birthday boy, after all!

Alfons: Well then... how does the restaurant over there sound?

The restaurant we entered was empty, and the food was immediately brought out after we put in our orders, but...

(...It doesn’t taste that good.)

(No, rather, I would say the flavor is unsavory...)

Alfons: Pfft... hehe... ahha!

A: Just from your expression... I can read your thoughts like a book right now.

A: Hapless though it may be, it would appear this restaurant’s cuisine doesn’t suit your palate?

Kate: ...Do you like this, Alfons?

Alfons: Positively god-awful, I’d say.

Kate: I feel like I should have seen this coming with how there’s not a single person here, even during the lunch hour.

Alfons: The food is thoroughly cooked, and there doesn’t appear to be any suspicious ingredients in it either, and yet...

A: I can’t help but wonder where this profoundly mysterious flavor has snuck in.

While saying this, Alfons slipped off his gloves, and touched the nape of my neck.

Alfons: The food before your eyes is a delicious cuisine from a renowned restaurant.

(Ah... he used his ability on me.)

Albeit nervously, I once again brought the food to my lips.

Kate: Oh, it is delicious...! Thank you so much, Alfons.

Alfons: It was a little more than child’s play to me, so think not much of it. Come now, let’s eat the rest.

Kate: What about you, though, Alfons? I mean, the food’s flavor...

Alfons: The food at the castle is a plethora of things you’d find in five-star restaurants, so I must admit I’m rather taken by this unique change of pace.

Kate: Is that so...

(This birthday celebration isn’t off to a great start, it seems.)

(But, there is still a whole day ahead of us! The next thing will surely be a blast!)

After lunch, we visited an auction venue.

Alfons: Is there an item you wish to bid for, perchance?

Kate: Actually, the auction isn’t being held today, so there’s a magic show in its place.

Alfons: I see... I’m most eager to see it. An actual successful magic show, unlike the ones we are subjected to see back at the castle.

Kate: Hehe, yeah!

K: ...Ah, the host has come up. It looks like it’s going to start soon.

Host: Uhm, to all gathered here today, we deeply apologize for the inconvenience caused with this sudden notice...

Host: ...but the magician we have invited has caught a sudden illness, and as such, we will be holding a special art auction today.

Kate: Ehh...

Alfons: No matter where we go, it seems the aforementioned ‘sudden illness’ follows suit.

Kate: Yes, I wonder if the cold has been going around recently...

(What should we do? Let’s see, what are places Alfons might enjoy... umm...)

Alfons: ...Since we are here already, how about we go and check out some of the art pieces?

Kate: I don’t mind that, but...

K: I’m sure you’re long used to seeing pieces like this, so would it not be boring?

Since Lord Elbert collects beautiful things,

I’m sure Alfons, too, has laid his eyes on many beautiful things as well, from being by his side.

(So to just be looking at these art pieces the auction has now, it probably wouldn’t be very interesting...)

Alfons: Would it not be a most thrilling experience to watch the audience compete with each other with bloodshot eyes from the outside?

A: And even if that does become boring, I have you to play with.

Kate: ...Alright then. Let’s look at the art pieces.

(Alfons is the one who should be getting his birthday celebrated, and yet it seems he’s always extending his consideration to me today.)

Finally, the sun started to set, inviting the night to come.

(To think everything we’ve done has failed... oh, but there are still two things left to celebrate.)

(Even if it’s just these two things, I definitely can’t let them fail...!)

After we returned to the castle and ate dinner, we went to Alfons’ room.

Kate: Alfons, here is the next present!

I gave the box I prepared to Alfons.

Alfons: Is it alright to open it?

Kate: Go ahead! It is food, so just put it on the table before opening it, so it doesn’t drop.

Though a bit corny, inside was a birthday cake.

(It’s a birthday cake with a cat drawn on it... I hope he’s happy.)

I watched him as Alfons took the cake out from the box.

Alfons: This...!

Kate: How is it?

Alfons: ...Kate. May I ask exactly when we got married?

Kate: Eh...?

Alfons showed the cake my way.

There, written on the cake, was neither a cat nor a happy birthday message, but rather...

Kate: ‘Congratulations on your 50 year wedding anniversary’...!?

The cake had words of congratulations to a wedding, with an illustration of an elderly couple I didn’t recognize drawn on it.

Alfons: It would seem the bakery has mixed our cake up with some elderly couple’s cake?

Kate: No way... I’ll need to contact the shop right away...!

Alfons: It would come as a surprise if the shop was still open at this hour though, I would imagine?

A: However, I doubt the cake will be good by the time morning rolls around, so let’s just eat what we have here.

—— Time skip ——

Alfons: I do find it quite unfortunate that I couldn’t eat that treasured cake you had chosen for me...

A: ...but this cake here tasted delicious, too.

Kate: Right...

Alfons: So, Kate? Care to bring out the final present?

Kate: About... that... the cake is the final present. I’m really sorry that everything has been a mess up to the end...

Alfons: Oh, don’t deceive me now. The cake wasn’t supposed to be the last present, yes?

Kate: It’s just that today nothing has been going as planned... so I’m scared that something about the last thing would also go wrong...

Alfons: ...Why, you can blame every happening today on mischance.

A: Not a single thing that happened was your fault.

A: Besides, so what if everything didn’t go as you hoped? It’s the sentiment of wanting to celebrate that matters, no?

Kate: That’s true, but still... I wanted you to have a fun birthday, Alfons.

K: A birthday so fun, it will remain in your memory forever. That kind of birthday.

If it was a birthday fun enough to carve a place in Alfons’ memory, then surely, it would do the same for me.

I wanted us to carve that memory into each other, so that we would never forget this day for eternity.

(But, with all these blunders on his birthday, how could it ever remain in his memory...)

Alfons: A birthday that will remain in my memory... you said?

A: ...If that’s the case, it would be remiss of me not to think today has been going swimmingly as you hoped.

Kate: Eh...?

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full masterlist 🪞🍰 ╱ ko-fi ☕ (30% of proceeds will go to doctors without borders for donations $17↑)

[heartfullofleeches]

Y/N talking to their audience: “*Sigh* Nothings happened yet we’ve been here for hours!! …..Pfft- Hey you guys, how about we try a challenge to pass the time? If you guys give me 50 subs in an hour I’ll decide to give your favourite camera person Tobi a kiss on the cheek!”

Tobi overhearing Y/N: :) !!!!

Y/N: “Hehe it’d be funny if that actually happened right? I’ve never gotten that many subs during a stream ever- WOAH!!” Suddenly Y/N receives 500 subs all at once

Y/N: “Oh- Oh my god!! Tobi look at what just happened this is insane!!!”

Tobi patiently waiting for their kiss: :) :) :)

"Seven...eight... nine... Hey Tobi - How many did you see upstairs again?"

The camera man holds three fingers up.

"That makes twelve.... Dang it." Nudging a rotting rocking chair with your foot, you join Tobi's side on the floor as they fiddles with their camera seemingly unordered by the predicament you were now in.

Tonight was supposed to be your big break. According to leads, if you counted the number of doors in this house aloud a thirteen door would appear as a gate to the word beyond your own and its inhabitants would snatch mortals foolish enough to seek its knowledge. With your trust cameraman at your side - you weren't worried about a thing, but to your disappointment no ghost or demons had come to drag you kicking and screaming beyond the veil.

Truth be told, Tobi had found this doorway hours before the scheduled stream. They'd torn it to chips and now used it to light the fireplace keeping you warm they also had the time to clean out before you arrived. In their eyes, things were better this way. The natural moonlight created the perfect scene to film you in as did most lights. They had already filled the remaining storage on one memory card and well into the next. To them - this had been one of the best hunts you had by fair.

Sighing, you sit up face the live camera. "Sorry, guys. Really thought we had something tonight. If you're disappointed by the lack of quality content - I can always give Tobi a kiss on the cheek....if they'd be comfortable with it.

And it was about to get even better.

The comments flood in like the racing waters of a broken dam.

"I'm sure they would."

"Who couldn't want a kiss from you?"

"Kiss. Kiss. Kiss."

"That's just the excitement they we need."

"Look at how excited they are. Don't play with their heartstrings like that, Y/n?"

You glance over at Tobi who was sitting with their hands folded in their lap and freshly groomed. They wave, fixing their coat sleeve as it falls, and adjusts their camera to capture you both in frame as you turn back.

"Alright, then... Hm, let's make a challenge of it - if we reach fifty subs in...."

" :) had donated 100 subs."

"Palemoonlight :) has gifted 250 subs."

"Three hundred already!? G-guys, I haven't even -"

"Trustycameraperson :) has donated 500 subs."

"Pleasekissmealready :) :) has donated a 1,000 subs."

"Okay, okay I get it!" You scoot over to Tobi and take both of their hands, wordless asking for the go ahead. They nod furiously, almost flinging their baseball cap off their head. They adjust it as you lean in and press a soft kiss to their cheek, reaching an arm around their neck to stable yourself. Their cool skin ignites beneath the touch of your warm skin. The light on their camera blocks rapidly before fizzing out as the fire within the furnace lick its brick walls and bellow from its grates. You pull away as embers jump at the blanket you sat on, stopping them out before the flames spread.

"Whoa! Something must've fell in there. You alright, Tobi?"

The moonlight reveals the goofy grin Tobi wears. They shouldn't be greedy, but the night is so beautiful and young - just like you.

"Foreverurs :) donated 1 sub - how many more for a kiss on the lips? :)"

[drysdalesworld]

Hi! I saw that you write for pjo! Could you write some hcs of the main three kids catching the reader (adoptive older sibling! Child of hephastus!) Sneaking out of camp to see their lover. (I was thinking its sort of like- a forbbiden love situation for reasons) and low key keeping that information as possible blackmail (in a lighthearted way,Like siblings often do to bribe eachother into doing stuff the other doesnt want to like chores n stuff).

The reader is afab but uses they/them pronouns and is around 19/20.

Thanks in advance!

“why are you hanging half way out your window?”

pairing: platonic!thalia grace x nb!child of hephaestus!reader, platonic!nico di angelo x nb!child of hephaestus!reader, platonic!percy jackson x nb!child of hephaestus!reader

it’s a bit short but i hope you like it!

— reader honestly had snuck out to see their partner so many times that they may have been too cocky the night they gotten caught by percy/thalia/nico

— let’s say readers lover is a mortal & knows that they “work” at a camp during the summers (they met at college!) & always offers to see them after camp hours when appropriate

— reader has never been caught so why would that night be an exception?? (they all use it to their advantage)

— they all catch reader on the same night but at different times!

___

— PERCY had been out on a walk when he heard a window harshly open, halting him in his tracks as he whipped his head towards the hephaestus cabin, seeing a black backpack be quickly thrown out the window before approaching

— dude didn’t know what to expect but he def didn’t expect reader of all people to be crawling out of their window in the middle of the night

— “uh, why are you hanging halfway out your window (y/n)?” he asked, both arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the reader weirdly

— poor reader froze mid crawl & literally felt their heart drop to their stomach. out of all people, it had to be percy that caught them sneaking out.

— “getting fresh air?” they replied, finally out of their window & landing on their feet

— the blonde only hummed as he narrowed his eyes at the reader, totally not believing what the just said. “uh huh. well, whatever it is you are doing, i will be remembering this entire interaction & will use it accordingly”

— his words did not make reader feel better about the situation, trying to plead with him to not tell anyone else. he reassured them that he wouldn’t, but he’d definitely use it as blackmail & bring it up whenever he needed something.

— perhaps the next time he had a craving for blue gummy worms, he’d bring up this exact moment the next time reader was planning on sneaking out & get a reward for somehow keeping his big mouth shut about this for so long. yeah, he definitely deserves an award for not ratting reader out (at least that’s what he thinks)

___

— THALIA had just arrived back at camp for a little getaway after being & traveling with artemis’ hunters for so long

— she had nearly fallen asleep until she heard someone trip over something right outside of her cabin, cursing to themselves as they got up

— the moment she opened the door to reveal the reader, thalia wanted to laugh out loud

— “what the hell are you doing?” she asked

— “nothing” reader would reply as they fixed themselves & brushed the dirt off their pants

— “doesn’t look like nothing”

— “it’s 100% nothing, thalia”

— “where are you going anyway this late at night?”

— “what’s with the interrogations, grace?”

— thalia gave up on trying to pry the information out of you & only rolled her eyes, bidding you a good night before promptly telling you that she won’t forget about this in the morning

— she def is planning on getting the information out of her one way or another OR will always bring it up until reader cracks & spills the beans

___

— NICO is already wide awake when he sees a shadow breeze past him as he sat near the woods, having trouble falling asleep

— his eyes immediately dart up towards the figure, squinting in attempts to get a more accurate image of whoever it was walking around at midnight

— “(y/n)?” he asked

— the groan that reader let out sounded more like a growl as they became increasingly frustrated at getting caught three times trying to leave

— “yes, nico?”

— “what are you doing up this late?”

— “on a walk”

— “going for a walk at midnight with your backpack filled to the brim?”

— “yes. building endurance y’know?”

— the scoff nico made wanted you to crawl back into your window & never come back out. getting caught once was fine & something you could handle. but three times? the universe just seemed to hate you at this moment

— “hmm, sure. whatever you say”

— the minute he turned his head back towards the stars, you immediately beelined towards the woods/exit of camp half-blood, cursing yourself for being so carefree in your escape

— nico wasn’t too hellbent on using it for blackmail but once he heard about thalia & percy catching you the previous night as well, he just knew he had to join in on their teasing

— you spent so many nights doing percy’s laundry that you could literally tell what his size was from just looking at a piece of clothing. you gave the last piece of your favorite dessert to thalia too many times to count. & you took on the brunt of nico’s chores. you’d get them back later, trust!

[psychesalcove]

'dedicated to all of those who, when the time came, picked the ocean,'

✧.* psyches 100 follower event special — CLOSED (still writing for requests that came in before it closed!!)

in memory of those who chose the sea ,,

hello everyone!! as from the title, i recently reached 100 followers on my blog; so i decided, why not do a fun little celebration to go along with this milestone? thank you to each and every one of my followers who read and support my work, all of you mean the absolute world to me! now, let me explain what i'll be doing for this event:

^᪲᪲᪲ for this event, you'll chose a promt from below, along with a pjo character (listed below as well) and then I'll write you a blurb including the promt and the character!! just send me an ask including all of those, and i'll happily write it for you:) you're also welcome to request a prompt that already has writing, just not for the same character!!

^᪲᪲᪲ promts to select from:

ֶָ֢ "i like the way your hand fits in mine,"

ֶָ֢ "you have something in your hair, uhm..do you want me to get it out?" -> leo valdez

ֶָ֢ "it's nice that your voice was the first thing i heard today," -> luke castellan

ֶָ֢ "you can call me whenever you want..even if you don't have a reason to," -> percy jackson

ֶָ֢ "im bad at texting first, so I always end up hoping you will,"

ֶָ֢ "this movie is really scary, but you're into it so I'm trying not to cover my face the whole time, but, WHAT IS THAT?–" -> leo valdez

ֶָ֢ "wait, don't pull away...not yet," -> percy jackson

ֶָ֢ "you look really cute in that sweater,"

ֶָ֢ "half the time i get too embarrassed to say anything,"

ֶָ֢ "no its fine..i can wait until you're done talking to them,"

ֶָ֢ "it's just, I can't believe you're actually wearing my clothes," -> travis stoll

ֶָ֢ "you're a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly,"

ֶָ֢ "gods, you always make me blush so damn much," -> conner stoll

ֶָ֢ "I've been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because i know you're going to look so good and I need to try and match up," -> leo valdez

ֶָ֢ "would it be to cliche if we matched clothes?"

ֶָ֢ "the first second i saw you i couldn't get over how beautiful you were." -> luke castellan

ֶָ֢ "i wanted to say 'i love you' for the first time without stuttering, but that failed," -> leo valdez

ֶָ֢ "could you hold my hand?"

ֶָ֢ "you can't leave without letting me hug you first," -> percy jackson

ֶָ֢ "I really love holding you, darling."

ֶָ֢ "that pet name was so gushy, but it was so so cute,"

ֶָ֢ "aw, you're blushing like a rose."

ֶָ֢ "your lips are really warm." -> jason grace

ֶָ֢ "I can't get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you're having breakfast with me in my sweater," -> leo valdez

ֶָ֢ "no, mom, don't tell them I said that about them!"-> percy jackson

ֶָ֢ "my friends get so annoyed by how much I talk about you,"

ֶָ֢ "wanna like—I mean, if you're not busy, we could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time?"

ֶָ֢ "wow, i didn't think you could make me smile this big,"

ֶָ֢ "you don't need to leave so soon,"

ֶָ֢ "you look so comfy; and cuddle-able." -> percy jackson

ֶָ֢ "quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that." -> piper mclean

^᪲᪲᪲ characters to chose from:

percy jackson

annabeth chase

piper mclean

jason grace

leo valdez

hazel levesque

frank zhang

will solace

nico di angelo

luke castellan

conner stoll

travis stoll

rachel elizabeth dare

previous pinned post -> introduction to my blog !

[techmomma]

whilst I am sick in bed, I want to put something out here before things start getting wild with conspiracy theories about this whole submersible debacle. because I think we will start seeing a lot of conspiracy theories starting up. some irrational, but some rational!

also note that I have no educated experience on these matters, just 33 years of living and a special interest in both the titanic and maritime disasters. so take everything with a grain of salt(water).

and while yes, if they’re dead, I genuinely think every navy and coast guard already knows and has known since like the first three hours since the sub went missing, I also genuinely do not think this was out of malicious or subversive intent, or trying to hide some big secret, and I will explain why:

underwater explosions/implosions make a very characteristic sound. this is called a bubble pulse: multiple booms being the result of initial explosion, followed by water pressure collapsing the gas bubble.

the major powers of the world, certainly the US with SOSUS/IUSS, have underwater listening stations. this is a system of underwater hydrophones and listening devices originally meant to track soviet submarine activity and underwater nuclear tests. this system was already quite powerful in the 60s, and its capabilities by now in the 2020s are classified but likely even moreso powerful. this is not me saying THEY’RE LISTENING TO US AND PUTTING TRACKERS IN US this is me saying “by the early 90s they could track a single whale over the entire Pacific for several years.”

if the submersible imploded--and I am leaning toward it not being built well enough to withstand four days of 375 atmospheres worth of pressure--then this was almost undoubtedly heard by listening stations across the atlantic

so why not tell the public?

despite having declassified much of the program, SOSUS/IUSS still has many parts that remain classified. to reveal that they heard the implosion would be to also reveal potentially delicate information such as station positions (figuring out WHERE a classified station might be based on the fact that it picked up the sound, and figuring out the minimum capabilities of such a system).

we’re already in kind of a weird proxy war with the Russians, again, so the government’s paranoia about not letting anything leak to them Russkies is, again, at an all-time high. I will state though that classified information is actually like, at the bottom of my list of “reasons why they may not have said anything immediately.”

this is an incredibly... unique situation. while I have no doubt they heard the implosion, they may not have been able to concretely confirm that it was an implosion, and an implosion of a civilian submersible, until after the story of the missing sub had already gotten out to the public. one of those “it looked like a duck and quacked like a duck so I’m pretty sure it was a goddamn duck, but I technically need to run tests to make 100% certain that it was in fact a duck, because if I’m wrong that could mean big trouble.”

in addition, to 100% confirm an implosion, typically the debris field has to be actually spotted on the sea floor, in addition to all the previous criteria being met. they have been trying to find a debris field... in a bigger, messier debris field.

they need to do this, because if there’s even a .0000000001% chance that they are still alive and you left them for dead, that would be... bad, for a lot of reasons

because the debris field has not been found and there IS a .0000001% chance that they could be alive, they still need to TREAT it as a rescue operation. this is standard procedure for like. everywhere.

even if they WERE still alive, they were going to die. every rescue party out there right now knows this. just planning to recover debris from that depth often takes months if not years of planning, let alone a sub about to run out of air in four days, max. in these situations, where the rescuers know the victims are alive but will, without fail, die, you have to still TREAT IT as if they are able to be saved (while also, quietly, making sure no one else is going to be further hurt). for the sake of the victims, their families, and the public at large. for the basic dignity of the victims. yes, out of compassion.

a comparable situation is when an EMT arrives to the scene of a traffic accident and knows, immediately, that this person, while not technically dead, is absolutely not going to make it. the EMT is still going to attempt to do everything they can to save that person, for their dignity and for the slim chance that maybe, by some miracle, they can help. you don’t give up until you know they’re actually dead. this is standard procedure and also like. a basic human compassion thing.

this is also likely why, if you’ve been watching any news about this, we’ve not seen any illustrations of “potential ways to rescue the sub,” or how authorities think they might do it, only diagrams and illustrations of where the sub might be or the depth it might be at. ideas have been floated around, but nothing concrete. because there is nothing concrete. at least, that’s what I’ve seen but that’s probably confirmation bias.

so yeah. in the coming days or years or whatever, I think it’ll come out that rescuers have known all along what happened and kept that little part quiet. but I also think it’s for the most boring, mundane reasons possible: standard procedure technicalities and human compassion while having to navigate a sticky situation between the media and the public.

[moonyasnow]

Dancing in the Dark.

PROMPT : Dancing in the dark with him

CHARACTER(S) : Idia

TYPE : short fic (~1.3k words)

CONTENT: nerd references ahoy, Reader implied to be shorter than 180cm, Apparently the Phantom Bride event takes place after Book 6 in this one

After such a close brush with death, even knowing you'd made it in time and he was safe, you still felt anxious not being able to see Idia in the dining-hall turned Wedding venue as the band started up a song meant for dance.

With the newlyweds twirling happily in the air behind you, you ventured out into the dark halls of NRC to find him...

Idia had never breathed a bigger sigh of relief in his life…he'd just been saved from a 100% certain one-hit-kill spell, with barely seconds to spare. Talk about clutch.

The bride got her groom and her happily ever after, sure, yay, whatever— he was just glad it wasn't him. At least this groom wouldn't be on the literal chopping block. He'd already done that 500 years earlier, after all.

…But Idia was still stuck in those fancy duds. Even if the other guys said he looked cool or whatevs he just couldn't see it.

He wandered out of the party as quick as he could, untying his hair to let it flow free and cloak him once more. In every mirror he passed all he saw was fire, sharp teeth, and glowing yellow eyes— accentuated by deep eyebags too. He wasn't generic-looking enough to be an NPC, but not cool enough to be the MC either. Was he the villain, then? He stopped to gaze at the pool-like surface of a mirror in the dark hallway. Sounded cooler than NPC, at least… But he doubted he was that cool. He was probs the throwaway 2nd villain in some tactical JRPG— not remembered as fondly as the introductory first boss, not as interesting as the 3d or those that followed. For every second that passed his scowl deepened in the mirror to match his thoughts.

'Healthy, lustrous skin, lidded eyes, a charming smile…'

LOLOLOLOL Eliza was INSANE if she thought ANY of that applied to him.

The smile he'd forced his face into looked all kinds of wrong in his eyes.

He sighed. Then he heard footsteps and his pulse sped up to what he knew Ortho would call 'very unhealthy levels for only having someone walk past him'.

Standing in the dark corner on the hallway with his hair acting like a glow-in-the-dark lamp, he, and his mortified expression, weren't that hard to spot. He didn't need to be able to see your face to know you were probably smiling. 'Because I look like the free clothing option in those normie cash-grab phone ""VNs""' he thought. But he knew from experience that wasn't the case when it came to you. You were even weirder than him, fwee-hee-hee… Ah, and now he was remembering how you'd stared at him the first time you heard his laugh, how he was expecting you to make fun of him but you just called his laugh 'nice'… And now his hair had started turning pink.

Great. /s

“I wondered where you went.” He was never gonna admit the sound of your voice made his heart race a little. There was a reason he always asked Ortho to leave the two of you alone when you hung out. If you really did find out he thinks he could just die on the spot.

"Away from the party, DUH." He rolled his eyes. You laughed at that. "Ha-ha, go ahead; laugh at my misery."

"No, no, it's just…it's so very like you."

"Uh…yyyup. Shut-in's gonna shut-in." He rubbed at his arm awkwardly. Yet even in the dark you recognized the small smile adorning his face.

You loved that expression of his…you could simply stare at it for hours. Yet you knew if you were to ever tell him that, he might stop talking to you for a week out of sheer inability to handle it. So for as much as you would love to compliment him— felt the urge tugging at you at every second you were with him— you refrained.

"You…you're beautiful…"

…Except for now, apparently. You quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. "I-I'm sorry!" The look on his face was like a cat sadly watching you take away its food bowl. "Not that I didn't mean it! I did!" There came another flare at the tips of his hair, coloring a deeper shade of pink. "I just…I know compliments can be difficult for you, and I—"

"N—np…" his flushed face begged to differ.

Silence filled the space between you. He thought it was awkward as all hell. You found it comforting, using it to work up the courage to ask him what you'd set out to.

"They're dancing right now, in the wedding hall. And I was wondering if…"

"No thanks— I do NOT want some rando to know how sweaty my hands are. I'd just step on their toes anyway."

"Oh, that's..." your face fell in disappointment.

[ Idia.exe is loading... ]

...

WAIT WAIT WAIT THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU MEANT HOLD ON ABORT, ABORT—

"I—" he could feel himself choking, words refusing to unclog from his throat. Here you were, his crush, his #1 Oshi if you will, and you wanted to dance. With HIM. EVEN AFTER HE MENTIONED HIS SWEATY PALMS (Sevens whyyyyyy did he do that)

"…If you don't want to I—"

He suddenly regretted he'd never clicked on those random dance videos he sometimes got recommended. And not taking Ortho's advice of playing one of those dancing games 'for his health'.

"I-I'd just suck at it— I'd moodkill. Big time."

"I don't mind. I'm not a very good dancer either…I've actually never done it before. So if anything, we'd both suck.” you said, cheeks flushed a gentle red he could just barely make out in the darkness.

He considered pretending he didn't see it for a moment; couldn't let himself get his hopes up.

This was probably just some prank, and the second he said 'sure' a laugh-track was gonna start playing and someone was gonna pop out and laugh and put an arm around his shoulder and gesture to some hidden camera somewhere—

"Idia?"

He'd been so stuck in his thoughts he hadn't even noticed you trying to talk to him. And now you'd gotten closer to him. WAY TOO CLOSE—

"EEP!"

All those things Eliza had said: "Bright, shimmering hair! Lips so arresting that you just have to kiss them!"

They'd be much more fitting applied to you, and not him. If it wasn't for the whole '180cm' requirement thing, he can't imagine you NOT being the one picked. It should've been you. Not because he wanted you gone or anything, obvs! You were just…out of this world kinda beautiful.

Out of his league, too.

Obvs.

That of course someone else was gonna come steal you away eventually, so why even hope? Why even try—

"It will always be a zero-percent chance as long as you believe it impossible and refuse to act."

Those words tore at the flesh of his chest like a word knife in that high-school murder trial game franchise he liked. Why were they showing up in his head now, like some kind of cutscene? This was sounding like that part in the 3d act where the hero's been demoralized and remembers the words of their fallen mentor to give them enough motivation to go in and K.O. the BBEG.

"S-so…" you said, nervously looking up at him through your lashes. "Do you want to dance with me?" your voice sounded so shaky, devoid of your usual confidence. You sounded almost scared. Kinda like him. (was this what he always looked like through other people's eyes?)

Maybe... Maybe it was ok to listen to that advice. Just this once. Just a tiny bit.

"S-sure..."

Awkwardly, he held his hand out. And you smiled.

He didn't think he was LI material, probably never would. But maybe, rather than cursing his luck at being an NPC in whatever Otome that had you as the MC, he'd celebrate his luck at being able to dance with you like this in spite of it.

He had you in his arms, and he could barely believe it was real, waiting for it to be revealed as just a dream-sequence. But somehow it was real. His palms were sweaty and his expression twisted in panic as he tried not to step on your toes and he probably looked like the worst 'suitor' ever.

But you were smiling, still holding his sweaty hand, and that blush was somehow still on your cheeks.

If this was just the preview of what his route, or life, rather, might look like were he to break free from the 'non-romancable NPC' category…

He better get to re-coding the game.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EDIT: just so everyone who reads this is aware, I do in fact take writing requests!

I'm testing out a new format This isn't exactly a 'headcanon' as much as it's literally just a short-fic

Publishing this as a bit of an experiment If people like it, maybe that'll finally convince my perfectionist brain that not every single thing I write has to be perfect according to my own, almost impossible-to-reach standards I set for my own writing

My friend told me the skull I used for Idia's partition gives "14 year old edgy COD kid vibes" It's perfect.

Also damn writing Idia is so fun. Including all his references is SO FUN. I get to pretend to be an extremely terminally online reddit gaming subreddit guy who hasn't touched grass or spoken to a real person in years, who bases his beliefs of how real life works off of anime. He is SO CRINGE (affectionate) and I LOVE HIM FOR IT.