#ok fine np

[wolkewatcher]

i love saying i have a routine as if it means in anyway i remember what said routine is n follow it (:

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

I went to a thrift store after work in my NPS uniform and a little old lady asked me if I worked there. At the thrift store. The National Parks Service manages your local Savers

[nerkmidcharm]

I FUCKED UP

I ACCIDENTALLY SELECTED MY BURLAP AISHA AT THE LAB RAY & THEY ZAPPED TO FUCKING SNOW

I WILL FIX YOU I PROMISE

[kraviolis]

bbmc's whole goddamn problem is that they talk too much. they just talk in circles. they talk in riddles. they restate whats already been said like 70 times and the wording gets worse every time. and i dont mean this in a *dundee voice* "soy boy snowflake wahh my feelings" way, they just use way too many words for what can be said in a few words.

someone needs to give them communication 101 classes from a therapist. a team of therapists. where the fuck is the "i" statements. these assholes are all absolutely convinced their perception is the Correct and True one. it causes so much fuckin needless abrasion. i think dundee and barry and everyone need to get over their fear of emotions bcus its actively making all of them weaker.

theyre all like "grrrr emotions weigh you down emotions get you killed emotions make you soft and weak" but theyre also fucking idiots who dont realize that theyre never gonna be emotionless their emotions are already weighing them down and holding them back and making them all weaker.

its because they arent letting them fucking go. none of them have the balls to look at their emotions head on and acknowledge how they feel & why they feel that way and they ESPECIALLY dont have the balls to let that shit go. instead of doing that, they just talk to each other in codes and riddles that allude to how theyre feeling instead of just being fuckin honest and blunt.

they need to treat their emotions like theyre giving comms during a shootout or a heist or some shit. that way they can stay honest while also not enabling miscommunication by trying to overexplain or justify their own thoughts and feelings to their own family.

[blackberries45]

Two for One

(Beetlejuice x reader) np used

Warnings: smut

Notes: per usual, my editing skills lack. this is just smutty smut bc I wanted to. I don't know where it came from but it got some thumbs up so here we are 😆 thank you for reading 🤗

💜💚🖤💜💚🖤💜💚🖤

Everything happened so fast. You weren't sure how you even ended up in this literal position, but damn if it wouldn’t be a favorite after this. Usually he shoved you onto the bed, which was fine with you. This however was different. You could tell he had something up one of his black and white striped sleeves.

Your bedroom’s brick wall was cool to the touch. It felt like a relief against your palms, as they were starting to burn like the rest of your skin. Beej had you pinned facing it. One hand on top of yours up by your face, fingers intertwined. His other hand on your hip, pulling you back against him and steading you so you wouldn't feel like you would fall. He of course would never let that happen.

You felt his weight shift behind you slightly as he moved one of his boots to kick your legs out a bit more wide. “Atta girl” he moaned, dropping his forehead against the back of your head.The wider stance helped him deepen his reach. He immediately took full advantage, feeling you clench down on him from hearing the praise. Moving to the side of your head, he started biting and sucking your earlobe. Your head tipped forward and was lightly grazing the wall with each movement. Tiny gasps could be heard escaping from you with each thrusting motion.

He let your ear drop from his teeth and roughly whispered “I'm gonna to need you to close your eyes now” You were so lost in the rhythm of the movements that you almost didn't have the capacity to answer him. “My eyes are already closed, Beej” He grazed his lips back and forth across your cheek a few times. “I mean, keep them shut. I'm going to have to concentrate real hard on somethin’ and I don't need you to screw it up by freaking out.” he quickly and lovingly kissed your cheek, realizing his words came out harsh.

His movements hadn't slowed down but you knew he was patiently waiting for you to respond. “Babes?” He started kissing your neck to get your concentration to shift back to him again. He knew your head was swimming. “Ok ok. I won’t open my eyes. But you have to touch me soon. I need you.” That last part almost had him spent right then and there. He loved when you got desperate for him. But he pulled himself together and started to concentrate. He'd been thinking about trying this for awhile. He could pull alot of tricks, but this was double the effort.

The air started to crackle more than it did with just Beetlejuice in the room. It was almost thick. You swear you heard something…no…felt something… like someone was between your legs.You instinctively started to look down. “What the..?” Beej quickly let go of your hand and brought his to your throat, forcing you to look up at the ceiling. You���d be a liar if you said you weren’t now wide eyed and your heart wasn’t pounding as you stared upwards.

The first lick bubbled up a scream, but Beej felt it in your throat and your mouth was instantly sewn shut. “Shhh, honey. Daddy needs to concentrate.” He put his head down between your neck and shoulder, biting the area his lips landed on, causing you to moan what felt like hard enough that it vibrated through your skull, trapped behind your sewn mouth.

Whoever was under you was using their cold fingers to part your lips and get more pressure on your clit with their tongue. They circled and they went back and forth. It was madness how good it felt from being in this position. One of their hands went to your thigh to steady themselves. Was that a ring?? Your eyes started fluttering open and shut as you couldn't decide which sensation to grind into. The sucking and licking below felt delicious and caused the fire in the depths of you to rage. Beej too was starting to make tired whines against your neck. Fuck. You could feel him starting to get more sloppy as he thrusted in and out of you. You were getting close and so was he.

The anonymous being between your legs changed their attention. Making a disappointed whine, you scrunched your eyebrows together. The wait to be touched again was shorter than you expected.

The licks were at first back on you, rimming back and forth where Beetlejuice was pumping into you. The sensation felt better than you could have imagined and you sank into it. You noticed Beej swallowing hard next to your throat. You now felt that the tongue below had left you and was only touching your entrance when it licked up. Holy shit. Was it licking Beej? You felt his mouth start to fall open as his panting increased, slowly turning into a groan.

Beej started getting desperate. He latched onto your neck like he was burrowing a hole into it. He was swirling his tongue and sucking all while whoever below was lapping your juices off of his dick. You could hear them making ungodly sounds and feel them back away enough to lick their lips. The thought of someone else licking on Beej oddly turned you on. You were sure now you were going to burst into flame and you decided to let it consume you.

The violent way you suddenly came caused your legs to give. With the few brain cells Beetlejuice had left, he quickly put his hands behind your thighs so you were almost sitting in his hands. He let your stitches disappear so he could fully hear your scream as he crashed full force inside of you.

The indivisible stranger must have disappeared, though you couldn’t say when, because you no longer felt their tongue or their hand on your leg. Beej flopped the two of you backwards onto your bed. It took several minutes of panting before you spoke.

“Who or what did you conjure to do that?” His laugh was the same one that would crash around you like thunder when he was being an asshole or thought he was clever.

He rolled over to face you, a cigarette between his lips that had appeared out of nowhere, flopped as he spoke. “That was me, babes. That's why I had to concentrate.” Your eyes widened once again and your mouth dropped open as he removed the cigarette with long fingers and blew out the smoke. “I had to split myself in a way. And may I just say, you taste like a fucking queen.”

The smile was one of the most devilish you'd ever seen across his stupid face. You rolled your head back and looked at the ceiling again. It took a few seconds of getting up the courage, but finally you quietly asked, “Can we do that again sometime? But maybe you let me watch?”

This time it was his mouth that fell open. “Any time, honey.”

[moodymisty]

(really sorry if this is sent more than once, firefox crashed right when I hit Ask so im re-sending it just in case)

Local Konrad apologist here to request a continuation to your 'Sevatar hunting you' oneshot you posted awhile back. sfw or nsfw, either is fine

(if you dont want to continue that plotline, np!! Just literally any Sev content would be hype as fuck, not gonna lie. love that man sm)

and i hope you and your pidges have a wonderful day❤

Soft continuation of this request

Author's note: Hell yeah I’ll continue that one! I love Sevatar <3 I hope this is ok! It didn’t quite flow the way I like but I don’t want to hold it up forever

Relationships: Sevatar/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lewd kind of, Violence and gore warning, Pet play technically? Sev calls you his little pet, Dubcon, Biting

When Sevatar had captured his prey, he made sure not to let it go. He dragged you back between his teeth to his den aboard the Nightfall, and you haven’t seen a Salamander since.

Sevatar has done much work in making sure your base needs are tended to- such as food and water to keep you healthy and soft - while on the Nightfall.

You are most likely the most well kept baseline aboard the ship, and many others refer to you snidely, jokingly, as Sevatar’s prized little pet.

He does a lot of prowling around to keep other Night Lords away from his catch, predator proofing his quarters.

While most Night Lords would hesitate to disobey him, or tread in quarters not their own or of their stature, Sevatar knows that his little pet is worth the risk.

You’re soft, clean and fragile, and unlike many of the serfs aboard who know how to hide and not be interesting enough to toy with, you whimper and cry and beg enough to make an Astartes mouth wet with drool and his hearts pump faster.

You don’t do as much anymore- With the Salamanders long gone that wound has faded, and you know despite his demeanor, Sevatar doesn’t break his toys. He seems to take quite good care of them actually, and despite the wounds he leaves in your body, the food he gets for you and the quarters you live in is almost comparable to life with the Salamanders.

Sevatar is returning to his quarters, looking downward at his knife when he feels as if something is off. He puts his knife back in its sheath, turning the corner to finish his trip to his quarters.

His body goes rigid when he notices the door is open, locks busted and completely torn apart. Only one glance inside confirms you’re gone. Your scent is fresh still however- this only just happened.

Sevatar runs down the halls, slamming into the shoulders of other marines who quickly try to give way to him, and halfway through the hall a singular Night Lord yells:

“If you’re looking for your pet, the idiot is taking her towards the barracks.”

He also hears the same man mumble about how he warned the thief, and that he wants to see his how Sevatar will display his guts for being a blackhand.

He catches up with the thief in the halls, spotting him carrying you with a hand clamped over your mouth. The other arm is around your waist, legs dangling and kicking uselessly.

Sevatar approaches him from behind and pulls out his knife and closes the distance lightning quick, slicing the wrist around your mouth so he doesn't crush your head. The Night Lord instinctively drops you- Sevatar hears your yelp as you crumble to the metal floor and presumably twist something - trying to defend himself first and foremost. Sevatar had the advantage however both in surprise and sheer strength, and within moments manages to get the slightly smaller Night Lord on the ground.

You can only watch as the two throw punches and tear at each other, eyes wide.

You hear the crunch as Sevatar’s knife drives through ceramite armor, reaching the black armoring suit underneath. The younger Night Lord attempts to clamp onto Sevatar's body but his one wrist is mangled and won't listen, while the other attempts to grab his neck in a desperate last ditch effort.

The first stab managed to crack ceramite armor like the outer shell of a bug, it takes a second blow for him to stab through his black carapace, and reach his organs. The marine lets out a shout as Sevatar's gauntlet gets covered in bright red blood, and you can only watch in a frozen stare as he mangles the younger night lord's body into a crushed, bloody mess.

Sevatar finishes by standing up, and grinding his head into the floor with his boot, splattering blood all over the floor.

A few Night Lords pass by, rolling their eyes at the mess and speaking along the lines that he had it coming, for disobeying Sevatar.

One also mentions that Sevatar wasted a meal by crushing the Astartes like that, and even just the implications of him feasting on the man’s brain matter has bile rising in your throat.

Blood is still on your face from his initial attack, alongside whatever splattered your way as you laid on the floor and watch him crush your kidnapper. Sevatar leans closer, and he laughs when he smears it across your face with his gauntlet.

He’s examining you for any damage, and other than a sprained wrist from when the Night Lord dropped you to the floor, you’re unharmed.

“Messy.”

You say nothing, but instead lean forward and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. Sevatar noticeably stiffens.

He supposes in your mind he is your savior. The Night Lord who had broken into his quarters more than likely wanted to toy with you for a bit until you broke, then throwing you into the garbage.

It’s good to know that you’re attached to him. That you know he is your best option, and that you won’t consider trying to sneak off. While he loves it when you cry, when you beg him to stop, there’s also a part of him that loves that you want him. How lately, some of your begging has turned into cute little whimpers.

Picking you up off the ground to return to his quarters you latch to him like he’s going to drop you as well, arms around his neck.

He likes the feeling.

Perhaps some of the other Night Lords would prefer it if you ran, if you hated him, but Sevatar wants you to want him. He wants to feel that rush.

He hasn't had his armor off in about it a week, but they're safe enough in Imperium space; He can take it off for a bit.

He won't let you out of his sight while he does so however, setting you down right in front of the armoring platform as he has the serfs and mechanical arms take away piece after piece of ceramite. It can sometimes take almost a half hour to armor up a marine, removing the pieces is significantly shorter. He leaves his black armoring suit on to take off in his quarters, and pushes you back there like he’s herding an animal.

He looks briefly and notices how that Night Lord broken open the lock; He'll remember that.

He watches you quickly scurry inside of his quarters, his den, sitting on the bed and trying to pick at the astartes blood coagulating on your face. You look so small on the massive bed, and the way you curl your legs up exaggerates the difference.

"I was asleep when he broke in... I didn't have time to hide or find you."

Sevatar laughs at the idea of you being able to hide or run from an astartes.

"Just shows that I need to keep a closer eye on you. You make a lot of trouble for me."

The way you look at him is concerned. You think he's considering getting rid of you. That you cause too much trouble for him. That couldn't be less of the case. He knew what he was getting into when he stole from the Salamanders.

Walking closer he stands and towers over you, seeing the hesitation and fear in your eyes when his hand comes close to your face. Instead of your neck however, it wraps around your jaw, and he forces your mouth to open with his thumb.

"But you're a good little pet, aren’t you.”

He loves the way your mouth wraps around his thumb- warm, wet, like the inside of a wound. Your hands rise up to wrap around his wrist, while he pushes you down laying on the bed.

“I should get you one of those tattoos.”

Sevatar removes his thumb from your mouth and grips your hair, pulling your neck to the side and exposing you vein. He can see your heartbeat through your skin, along with the myriad of old scars and healing bites he’s left there.

It’s his favorite part of you; Nothing else is like the feeling of your life and soul between his teeth.

He drags his teeth down your neck and feels the way your hands clamber at his shoulders, until he finds a spot he likes and sinks his teeth in.

Your hands slap at his shoulders and you whimper, gasping in pain as his dull teeth pierce your skin. His tongue is coated in that tangy, iron taste, the salt of your skin mixing. You taste delicious- the feeling of your soft flesh underneath his hands and in his mouth makes his cock throb.

A part of him imagines biting down harder, drawing more blood and ripping your skin. The crunch of vein and bone. But he doesn’t want to damage you that much, and risk loosing his catch.

“W-what tattoo?”

You breathlessly speak. Sevatar knows some of the other- usually older - Night Lords have been tattooing their favorite serfs; Staking a claim on them.

He doesn’t need to stake claim on what everyone already knows is his, but the idea of his name, or his variation of the Night Lords symbol adorning your delicate skin rouses a part of him.

He bites again, and you take a sharp inhale- heels digging into the bed. Your thighs are forcibly spread apart to make room for his massive body, weight holding you down. He feels your heartbeat in his mouth, your very life is so close.

“You’ll see.”

[hihigherdi]

I was prescribed Naproxen 2x a day for this gout flare yesterday while at the infusion center. I asked the nurse practitioner to please check with my surgeon if they were ok for me to take prior to surgery on Tuesday. That was yesterday around noon, and I left there at 1pm. Right around then, I got an automated message from my pharmacy to pick up the prescription later on in the day so picked it up, assuming it was fine, so took it last night and then again this morning.

Today I filled a message from the NP saying the surgeon said NOT to take it but it didn’t come through in my notifications. I replied saying I’ve already taken two doses, the surgery is next Tuesday - what happens now? She and I both sent a note to the surgeon asking if this would delay my surgery.

My sister flies here at 9am Monday. We never heard from the surgeon. I’m trying hard not to freak out. I’m desperate for this not to be delayed, and now I’m going to fight ruminating over the weekend.

I just need to calm myself down. It wasn’t anyone’s fault/it was both our faults - she shouldn’t have prescribed it without getting that confirmation, but she could tell I was in a lot of pain and I had an instinct to double check before I took it and I didn’t.

Please let this be ok. I’m just going to use this as a moment to practice not catastrophizing..

EDIT: she called, and I’m fine, I just can’t take the meds anymore (which sucks). These curveballs are triggering. Relief.

[justagalwhowrites]

✨🎄Christmas Glee🎄✨

Thank you for the tag, @burntheedges and @whocaresstillthelouvre!!

🎄 🎄 🎄

1. What's your favorite Christmas song?

My FAVORITE favorite is Santa Claus is Coming to Town by Bruce Springsteen. My husband's family doesn't have many family traditions but one of the few they do have involve that song and it just makes me so happy now!

Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses is one I adore that I think is so underrated.

Carol of the Bells is another favorite! I love to play that one, too.

2. What holiday movie do you have to watch during the season?

ALL OF THEM! (JK) (Kinda)

I love Christmas movies, OK? I watch a TON every single year. Elf is the one I watch the most, it's one of my favorite movies EVER and it makes me cry every time (I literally will watch it at least once a week between Thanksgiving and Christmas and I cry every. single. time.) It's a Wonderful Life is one of the last things I watch during my Christmas Eve movie marathon and is a must see. I also always watch The Santa Clause, The Santa Clause 2, A Christmas Story, Miracle on 34th Street (the original in black and white, colorized versions have no place in my house), The Happiest Season. I always start the Christmas movie season with Love, Actually because the first title card says "5 Weeks to Christmas" so you can watch it before Thanksgiving because the movie says it's fine. It's fine, OK? It's fine.

3. Post a pic of your tree or any decor inside or out, doesn't even have to be from your *house. ☃️🎁 *Anything that has brought a smile to your face this holiday season that you feel comfortable posting.

The decor was captured more as a byproduct than the purpose of the image but the husband and I played some games yesterday and our dog decided that he needed to be a part of it and I had to take a picture. If it helps, said dog is in a Christmas sweater! But you can see most of my Christmas village there on the right, some stockings and, of course, the main tree on the left (because I'm extra and have 3 trees I KNOW I'M SORRY!)

NP Tags: @cas-readsandwrites @mysticnightmarewrites @interdimensionaldrey-blog @dancingtotuyo @murder-wife and anyone else who wants to play!

[phykios]

If I Were A Blackbird, part 16 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Did you make it back okay? You didn’t text 🙁

[read, 10:47am]

????

Sorry got back kind of late Got lost in exarchia lol

Isn’t exarchia dangerous? Are you ok? 

Nah it was np Ive seen worse at santa con

Ok

Everything good with you?

?

Whatever hans needed you for last night

Oh yeah it was fine Turned out to be a nothingburger Im sorry i ruined our date

Its fine

…

…

Hey i just checked with my car service and they said you didn’t call them last night? 

Yeah i just caught a taxi Only out a few euro

…

…

When are you free next week? I wanna make it up to you 

Its rly fine

Ok well i want to see you Before coach peterson traps you in the boathouse and wont let you leave

Lol What are you doing thursday? 

Breakfast with the finns then 10 hours of teams meetings Does saturday work?

Practice

🙁 

What abt sunday morning? We’d have to be done by 2

I can do sunday!! How do you feel about dawn? 

—

A risky proposition–for her, not for him. Percy had no trouble waking up early, while Annabeth more than lived up to her night owl reputation. 

But she had to make it up to him. She had to give him something spectacular. 

Percy had clearly been so hurt the other night when she’d made him leave. And he had every right to be. She wanted him to be her partner, in all things. Even though that didn’t mean he could join her in fighting a dracena or a draugr or some other dangerous creature, it did mean he should be able to know about what was going on. Know about every aspect of her life. And even though the other night had not ended up being such a big issue, there had been dozens of monster fights over the last four years where all she wanted when it was over was to curl up with Percy and tell him what was really going on. Seek his comfort and support. 

Percy Jackson was a world class cuddler. They should give him a gold medal for that. 

She had known for a long time she needed to come clean. She needed to tell him everything. But this moment was really the line. It was creating divisions she didn’t like, that he didn’t deserve. And she wanted to share everything with him. Seek his advice and comfort and love as she navigated the challenges of being a demigod. 

So, she had to stop pushing him away. It wasn’t fair. Percy had supported her 100% in all things since they first got together–the hecticness of royal life, her own demigod and ADHD flightiness, even her Harvard family pride. 

He deserved better. 

It steeled her resolve.

She had planned the event to a T, stocked up on Greek coffee, and called in an enormous favor with the Ministry of Culture to organize a private tour of the Parthenon for the two of them, just after dawn. The sacred hill, usually overrun with tourists, would be, for once, deserted, and they would have the place wholly to themselves. They’d get to walk the ruins together, alone, get to look out at the sun rising over the sea he sailed on, and then she would take his hand, and she would finally tell him everything. Let him into the most secret parts of her life. 

The only hard bit had been figuring out what to wear. She wasn’t sure if she’d brought anything for this trip that wasn’t blue. She’d packed one bag, and Helen had packed the big one for her, but she’d acquired so much blue over the last four years that most of her closet had ended up blue, too. But she wasn’t about to go on possibly the most important date of her life without having an outfit ready to go by morning. 

Blue was the obvious choice, but was also possibly jinxed–she couldn’t remember the last time she had worn blue on a date with Percy without being attacked by a monster. White, again, had a ton of bridal baggage, and she didn’t want to pressure him into doing anything, not when she was about to drop a mythological bomb on him.

So. What to wear. 

She had spent probably upwards of an hour, wrapped in her bathrobe and conditioning her hair, as she sat cross legged on the bed, agonizing over the final three options: an orange romper with a gold belt and stilettos, the two-piece lemon-printed outfit from a D&G collection a few years back with flats, or the purple sundress with raw edges and a pair of white sneakers. 

When she laid it all out, it was kind of obvious. Her mother’s temple, where millions of tourists walked each year, was not really known for its crisp, even walkways. Or its non-slippery marble.

The dress, she decided. Not just for the shoes, but for the color, a surprisingly intense hue for such a casual fabric. Deep and dark, like wine spilled over the ocean. Very Homeric. Hopefully he’d like it.

She bounced her sneakers against the interior car door, probably scuffing the leather and pissing Hans off to no end, as she waited for Percy to come out of the Village. That was the problem with white. Easy to ruin. She chanced another look out the window, and sat up at the hooded figure who came out, and made a beeline straight for the car. Without hesitation, he slid in beside her, taking down his jacket hood, revealing wet hair and tired eyes that still lit up at the sight of her. “Morning,” he said, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. “Morning, Hans.” 

“Sir.” 

“Hey,” she said. “You sleep okay?” 

“Slept alright, yeah.” 

Annabeth frowned. “You look tired.” 

“Yeah, well,” Percy shrugged. “Got a lot on my mind.” He continued before Annabeth could say anything. “I was hoping practice would tire me out, but… Probably going to need a nap after this.” 

“My hotel bed misses you,” she told him, and then only cringed a little bit as the full dorkiness of the words came to her. “You could always come back with me. You know. If you wanted.” 

He paused, then twisted his mouth in that way she knew meant he was trying not to laugh. “Maybe. But I don’t know if I’ll make it through this car ride.” 

Well, she could help with that. “Way ahead of you there,” she said, reaching for the drink caddies. “Coffee?” 

Successfully caffeinated, they enjoyed an easy, peaceful drive to the west entrance of the site. At this hour, the roads were largely clear, devoid of most traffic beyond a handful of delivery guys on bikes, or the odd clump of construction workers taking advantage of the time. It was still dark enough that the street lights were still on, the car passing beneath beautiful arches of string lights in the colors of the Olympic Rings as they rounded the corner of the National Gardens. In the distance, just barely over the tips of the buildings, she could see glimpses of the Acropolis, its columns lit up with yellow floodlights, like artificial fire. 

Percy huffed a laugh as they passed the Arch of Hadrian and the Temple of Olympian Zeus, resting his head against the window. 

“What is it?” 

He shot her a sideways glance. “It’s nothing. Just, ah… it’s nothing.” 

She frowned at the deflection. But instead of dwelling on it too much, she took his hand. “I’m really glad you came this morning,” she said, quietly. 

Smiling, he squeezed her hand in return. “Hey, me, too. I’m always happy to see you.” 

“And I’m sorry about the other night.” 

“Seriously, you don’t–” 

“I do,” she interrupted, lacing their fingers together. “You’ve put up with so much crap from me and my family and my country these last four years, and I haven’t…” She trailed off, the words drying up in her mouth. 

Percy shifted, turning towards her. “Haven’t what?” 

Been honest? Told him everything? Gods, what did she even say to that? Every other person she had ever been close to had already known the great secret. Annabeth couldn’t even remember if she had ever been told explicitly the truth of her birth and her heritage. It was just something she’d always known. Something she’d never had to question. Annabeth was a princess, her mother was a goddess, and her family was descended from another pantheon. These were the facts of her life. How was she supposed to tell him the truth? 

How do you turn someone’s life upside down like this without driving them away?

For lack of anything to say, she squeezed his hand again, and brought it to her mouth. “I have something I need to tell you,” she mumbled into his fingers. 

He only nodded, face solemn in a way it rarely was. “Me, too.” 

She sat up, a new wave of anxiety breaking over her. “What is it?” 

Taking in a deep breath, he moved his hand to her face, brushing his thumb against her cheekbone. She leaned into it, drank in the gentleness of his fingers, the quiet, deliberate touch of skin, and her heart couldn’t help but throb. “Annabeth,” he said, gathering his courage. “I… There’s…” 

“Excuse me.” 

They both jumped. Hans had rolled the car into park so smoothly, she hadn’t even noticed. 

“Apologies, highness,” he said, not at all meaning it, “but we’ve arrived.” 

And not a moment too soon. The sky above was just beginning to lighten, the shades of midnight just barely beginning to give way to gray and purple. 

Hand in hand, they strode up the wide, cobbled pathway, their steps illuminated by the floodlights. If she ignored the hum of electricity, the distant sound of car horns, or the lack of stars above them, she could almost imagine that she and Percy were in ancient Athens, making a pilgrimage in the middle of the night to the sacred temple. Perhaps she would have been a priestess, and he a guard of the city, and they were coming in secret to make a supplication to the goddess, asking Athena to release her daughter from her vows so that they could marry without incurring her wrath. 

The thought made her giddy, and she squeezed his hand, a new skip in her step. 

“You’re chipper this morning,” he observed. 

“Just happy to be with you.”

He smiled thinly, and didn’t say anything in response. 

But she didn’t care. Her whole life was about to change–for the better. She didn’t have a care in the world. 

The security guard, nursing a coffee of her own, let them in without a word. Hans trailed behind them, far enough away that they could speak privately, but close enough in case Annabeth needed some magical backup. She was lucky, she supposed. Her country’s affection for her family was high enough that mortal threats weren’t really a concern. But when they reached the base of the ramp which led to the Propylaia, Hans stopped in his tracks, waving her on. Trusting her alone with Percy. 

She nodded at him, grateful. He turned away, pulling out a cigarette. 

In silence, they continued on to the top of the hill, and Annabeth had never been more grateful for the choice to wear sneakers, giving her steady footing on the worn marble. Percy, however, wasn’t so lucky, one false step causing him to slip, teetering towards the edge of the switchbacked path. 

“Whoa!” 

Annabeth snatched him up around the waist, pulling him back towards a marble bench. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed, shaky. “I’m fine.” He looked up at her, sheepish. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

“This damn hill,” he grumbled. “I’ve been to the Acropolis, like, four times this summer, and I’ve tripped over something every single time.” 

“Well, just be careful,” she said. “If you roll your ankle, I have to carry you out of here myself.” 

“Not Hans?” he teased.

She shrugged. “I can handle it.” 

“I’m sure you could.” A beat, and then he embraced her, so suddenly it almost knocked the wind out of her. He held her close, close enough that she could feel his ragged heartbeat, adrenaline sending it racing, and she shut her eyes, breathing in the ever-present sea salt smell of him. “I love you,” he murmured into her hair. “I love you so much.” 

When he pulled back, she was shocked to see his eyes were red. “Percy?” 

“I’m fine,” he said thickly, wiping his eyes. “Come on. Daylight’s wasting.” 

Pink had begun to bleed into the sky, coloring the haze of the far off mountains, creeping ever closer to sunrise. 

They made it through the gate without further incident, and even though Annabeth had seen the Parthenon hundreds of times, in person and online and in dreams, it still stopped her in her tracks. It was a magnificent building, of course, even with the scaffolding holding it together, and she couldn’t help but mentally run through the facts for the millionth time. Pentelic marble, peripteral Doric, perfect proportions. Fluted columns, ionic capitals, no base. Eight by seventeen, slight tapering to account for human perception. Once upon a time, it had been covered in color, a bright, shining beacon of civilization, a living record of war and conquest. The Giants, the Amazons, the Lapiths and the Centaurs, the sack of Troy and the victory over the Persians–the Parthenon was a monument to it all, and to the goddess who presided over them. 

Now if only the British Museum would give back the damn statues.

“Let me guess,” Percy said. “You’re imagining what it would look like with all the marbles restored.” 

She smiled, sheepishly. “You caught me. I have another meeting with the Prime Minister next month.”

“Fifth time’s the charm?” 

“Here’s hoping.” 

“You know, you’ve corrupted me,” he said. “Before I met you, a temple was just a temple. Now every time I see a Greek temple, I have to count the number of columns. The long side is always twice the number of the short side, plus one. I never noticed that before. Not until you showed me.” 

“Sorry.” 

He shook his head. “What for? I never said it was a bad thing. Here.” He took both of her hands, and led her over to the Erechtheion, picking his way around the stones which jutted up from the grass. The pink sky was beginning to blossom into a fiery orange, streaked through with yellow, heralding the sun. “Like with the Erechtheion,” he said. “There’s so much I never noticed about this place before you–the irregular construction, the decorative elements, the whole…” he waved a hand at the stone, but never took his eyes off her. “All of it. Before you, it was just another old building.” 

“A fucked-up old building?” she recalled, remembering a warm spring night on the Aegean, tangled up with her lover on a boat and under the stars. 

He grinned, hopefully recalling the same. “The building of the mighty Poseidon,” he corrected. “I don’t think he’d be too happy to hear you call it that.” 

She didn’t think he’d be too happy with her in general, given the whole rivalry thing, but whatever. “Meh,” she echoed. “I’m dating his favorite sailor. I think I’ll be okay.” 

In the fading dark of sunrise, Annabeth saw his face fall. The gray shadow of the temple made him look ashen, pale. Afraid. 

“What is it?” 

He glanced at the temple, shoulders tight. “It’s cold,” he said, finally. “Come on. Let’s sit in the sun.” 

The sun was just about to break over the horizon, but she wouldn’t push it. 

Percy led her out of the shadow of the Erechtheion, towards the very eastern edge of the site. There, where there had once been a circular watchtower, now flew the flag of Greece, hanging limp in the stillness of dawn. She sat on the wall-bench of the observation point, back against the lip of the retaining wall, and tipped her head back. It was quiet. Seagulls cried in the very far distance. At some point, the floodlights had switched off automatically, leaving them suspended in time, colorless, hovering between tonight and tomorrow, between her past and their future.

But her future didn’t join her on the bench. He just stood there. Looking at her. 

“Percy? What’s wrong?”

She could see his chest moving as he breathed, deep and measured. His mouth hung open, and she could almost see the wheels in his brain turning as he searched for what to say. 

And then, warmth.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the sun had just breached the mountains, the yellow glare shielded by the looming shadow of Mt. Lycabettus, the tallest point of the city.

When she looked back, Percy had dropped to one knee. 

She felt her breath catch. Felt the tears preemptively pool in her eyes. She was a princess. She was a demigoddess, a hero, a feminist, a–a shieldmaiden! She was not supposed to be the kind of woman for whom her engagement was the pinnacle of her entire life. But it was Percy, on his knee before, looking up at her with those green eyes. Looking like he belonged here, between the Athena and Poseidon shrines. She felt like she was in some sort of movie. Every perfect thing coming down to this moment. 

“I was really glad you wanted us to come here,” Percy said, “I… this seemed a fitting place for me to tell you. To say maybe the most important thing I’ve ever said before.”

“A question?” She asked, even though she probably shouldn’t have.

He smiled, lopsided and trouble-making and so, so beautiful. “Could be,” he said, and her heart nearly skipped right out of her chest. “But first…” he looked around, wary, like he was expecting something to jump out. 

Or someone.

“This is the place,” he said, after a moment of silence. His eyes were stormy–thrilling… and scary. “This is the place where Poseidon lost the contest of Athens to Athena.”

Despite herself, she felt her smile drop. It was a story she knew well, had grown up with it and been weaned on it, curled up in her father’s embrace as a little girl as he read to her from the big yellow book of Greek myths every night before she went to bed–but she didn’t know why it suddenly made the bottom of her stomach fall out. 

And then, he said, “This is the spot where… where my father lost to Athena.”

His… “Your father?” The words sounded like they came from very far away. Her face felt numb. 

“My father,” he repeated. “Poseidon. God of the sea.” 

She must be confused, she must not be understanding. An unusual place for her to be, but not impossible. Annabeth was used to being the smartest person in any and all rooms she was in. And so it only took her a few seconds to really, properly process what she was being told. To take that information in and put it up against so much else she’d seen but not really noticed over the past four years. 

“That explains so much,” she said. Her mind quickly flicked through the many details and strange little facts she’d collected, but never been able to fit together. 

At least her brain was moving too fast for her to stop for a second and feel. 

His eyebrows pulled together, that little pinch she always thought was adorable. “It does?”

She nodded, and didn’t meet his eyes. “There was a sea monster, wasn’t there? In Mérida, at the last Olympics. That’s why you lost your lead.” 

He froze, down on one knee. “...Yeah. There was.”

“And that day, when we went out on the boat, you got my hat back, and dried it with water magic,” she continued. “Hans’ team spent a truly insane number of manhours trying to track down your father. But they never could. It was like he didn’t exist.” 

“...What are you saying?” 

“I don’t think anyone ever guessed you were a demigod,” she said. “Which was probably silly. Hans should have known better. And Dad.”

He stared at her, mouth open and gaping like a– “Annabeth?”

The tears finally spilled from her eyes. “Percy,” she said, not sure if she was crying from joy or sorrow. “My mother is Athena.” 

***

Percy’s whole body went cold. The ring box was heavy in his jacket pocket, weighing him down like an albatross. “Athena?” 

She nodded, hanging her head. “Yes. I’m a demigod, too.” 

And suddenly, every little thing that had ever felt out of place snapped into a neat, logical, devastating line. 

Her proficiency with weapons–not just the hobby of some rich girl, but an innate skill. Jokes from her whole family about following the “old ways” that always seemed to hedge a little too close to seriousness. A gaping black hole where her mother should be. 

Just like him. 

How hadn’t he seen it sooner?

Stunned, the next few words just slipped out. “I didn’t know Athena could have children.” 

She snapped her red-rimmed eyes to him. “Are you calling me a liar?” 

“What? No! I just–isn’t she a virgin goddess? How would that even, uh… work?” 

“You’re a classics major,” she said, crossing her arms, hunching in on herself. He could practically see sparks of irritation flying off of her, filling the space she left empty. “I assume you’re familiar with the birth of Athena?”

“Sure,” he hedged, feeling suddenly unmoored. “She was born from Zeus’ head.”

Annabeth looked at him, pointedly. 

So… she was born the same way? “But,” he stammered, his thoughts scattered across the sacred rock, “but… you have a belly button.” 

Pretty much immediately, Percy knew that was the wrong thing to say. 

“Yeah,” she said, stony. “What, were you expecting me to be some kind of freak?” 

Okay. He was now and truly lost. “That’s not–” 

She crossed her legs, cutting him off. “Well, I’m not. I have all my extremities. Just like you.” 

“I… didn’t think you didn’t.” Because why would he? He had seen them all for himself. He had, ahem, explored all the nooks and crannies of her body, many times, had touched and kissed every extremity, every inch of skin… every inch of scar. 

He had seen her scars. Had traced the lines of them, up and down. He hadn’t commented on them, because why would he? His own body was riddled with the same scars. Claw marks and magic burns and the odd sword swipe. They were normal for him. 

They were normal for her, too. 

Because they were the same. 

So why did the thought suddenly fill him with dread? 

“When,” he started, mouth dry, “when did you know?” 

“My whole life. You?” 

“I was six. Luke told me.” It had been a weird day, but one he could look back on fondly. But right now, he could barely remember it. All he could cling to was the one shining, defining difference between them–she had known about her parentage her whole life, and he had only been told about his later. 

And then, he huffed a laugh, surprising himself. 

She frowned. “What?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just figures, is all.” 

“What figures?” 

“Figures that I had to have it spelled out for me while you had it handed to you on a silver platter.”

She rounded her jaw, eyes glistening in the morning light. 

Fuck. This was not how he wanted this to go. “I–” 

“Figures for you as well,” she cut in, avoiding his gaze. “Swimming, sailing, water polo–it all comes from your father.” 

Anger, hot and spiky, lanced through him out of nowhere. “Are you saying I’m only good at what I do because of my dad?” 

She snapped her eyes to him, taken aback by his tone. “No! Of course not!” 

“Because if I wanted to coast on my genetics, I would have just gone with swimming,” he growled, surprising himself with his own vitriol. “Sailing is hard work. Keeping track of the winds, the waves, the sail, the physics–it’s hard work. And I picked it because I knew it would be hard work. Because I’ve had to work my entire life. Not that you would know anything–” 

He cut himself off, standing, before he said something he really regretted. 

Except the damage was already done.

Her hands tightened where they clutched her arms, the tips of her fingers digging into her skin. “I see,” she said, quietly. “So that’s what you really think of me.”

“No, it’s–” He sighed, hanging his head. Breathing in through his nose, he held his breath and counted to ten, before his anger got the best of him again. 

When he looked back up, Annabeth’s eyes were fixed on the ground, her shoulders just barely trembling. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was out of line. And it’s not true.” When she didn’t answer, he sat down next to her, gratified that she didn’t at least move away from him. “I’m really sorry.” 

Stiffly, she nodded.

“It’s just… I’m sick and tired of being out of the loop. You don’t tell me you’re a princess, you make me leave for meetings–”

“That’s a national security thing–” 

“Everything about you is a national security thing!” He burst out, losing his grip. “Everything you are is some kind of secret that I don’t get to know about, even after we’ve been dating for four years!” 

“I’ve told you plenty,” she said, eyes welling up again. “I’ve told you about my dad, and my insecurities, and all my fears about me and my country–” 

“But nothing about you being a demigod!”

Her face went red. “What the hell was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, stranger, not only is my dad a king, my mom is a Greek goddess, wanna fuck?’”

“No, I just–” 

“You said I was entitled to my secrets,” she stood, pointing at him accusingly. “Just like you were entitled to yours. That was your promise.” 

“Yeah, at the beginning of our relationship, not four years in when I’m about to propose to you!”

She froze, as still and imposing as marble. Percy’s heart had crawled up his throat, threatening to choke him, and in that moment, he was overcome with the sudden need to assert himself. To let her know how she had hurt him. To speak a truth that was even more painful. 

“It’s like–it’s like I don’t even know you.” 

In one swift instant, her tears dried up, evaporating in the heat of her anger. She glared down at him, imposing and impossible, her gray eyes cold and sure and beautiful, it took his breath away.

Of course she was beautiful. Her mother–Athena–had been in Paris’s contest, after all. If Lady Athena had even half of her daughter’s beauty, it was a fucking miracle that she had lost, Helen or no Helen. 

Annabeth whipped around, her blonde curls flying in the sudden wind, making her way back towards the Propylaea. 

But she turned back to look at him, once, at the far edge of the Erechtheion, her mother’s temple to her right, and his father’s to her left. The clear concrete pathway between them felt as wide as an ocean, and just as insurmountable.

Percy felt like the Athenians, thousands of years ago, worshiping their patroness. Worshipful and fearful and in love in equal measures. 

Percy felt like his father, so thoroughly cowed, so beaten. Forever changed, forever brought down by this great and powerful woman. Brought low before her like so many men had been for millennia. 

How did you ever get over someone like her? 

He thought back to his father. And to King Frederick and a handful of awkward dinners with Princess Consort Mary. 

On both counts, Percy was pretty sure, you never did. 

He sat there where their parents' rivalry began–and was still going strong, even after all this time –for a long time, as the sun slowly crept up the sky, until the security guard from earlier came to get him. “Excuse me,” she said, not unkindly. Which was unexpected. In his experience, security guards, Greek or Swedish or otherwise, didn’t take too kindly to him. Maybe they knew something he didn’t. “We’re opening to the public soon.

Percy nodded and stood up. “Sorry.”

“Your friend left thirty minutes ago,” she said, not responding. And then, curiosity must have gotten the better of her. “So… what happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Percy said, and he wasn’t. He really really wasn’t sure. The walk back down the hill didn’t clarify things, either. 

A drink might. Or maybe a nap. Maybe he could go back to the Village, grab Jason and Frank and take them out for some midday drinks in Exarchia, take the edge off with some bro-time. 

Halfway down to the city, he stopped to lean against a green metal grate. Just on the other side was a sign, in English and Greek, pointing the way to the Pnyx, the favored soapbox of great thinkers like Socrates. 

He sighed, heavily. 

Gods, he was so fucking sick and tired of classics. 

They’d given him more than enough problems. And he wasn’t going to let classics ruin his life. Not over this. 

In that moment, he made a decision. He wouldn’t go back to the Village and drown his sorrows.

Instead, he called in the cavalry, and asked them to meet him at the Tiki Bar around the corner of the Acropolis Museum. Because he was fucking sick and tired of classics. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be having celebratory engagement sex right now?” Was Luke’s first question as he walked up to the bar where Percy had parked himself, a very bleary Nico and Hazel in tow. Honestly, Percy was surprised he had gotten the younger ones to even show up. The children of the Underworld fully lived up to their reputation as night people, and here they were, deigning to show their faces just after 8 AM.

Luke took one look at Percy’s face, and his own fell, instantly. “Kid? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Percy said, and it was true. He didn’t know what was wrong. And then he said, “Annabeth is a demigod.” That was true, but it wasn’t what was wrong. Why was that bad? It shouldn’t be bad. 

As one, all three of their jaws dropped, eyes going wide. “What?” That was Hazel, now fully awake. “She’s a demigod?” 

“That explains a lot,” said Nico, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “She had a real power vibe, but I thought maybe it was the monarch thing.” 

Percy didn’t want to even try and dissect what that meant.

“She’s a daughter of Athena,” Percy said, but for the first time in about an hour, it didn’t feel like a terrible, horrible thing. In fact, it was almost a neutral observation. Possibly even edging towards something exciting. 

Because Annabeth was a demigod–just like him. Another member of his extended family.  

Hazel gasped. “But Minerva’s a virgin goddess,” she exclaimed, aghast at the very idea. “She’s not supposed to have children!” 

“Annabeth kind of explained it,” Percy said, frowning at the memory. Brain children. It was still kind of a tough idea to wrap his head around. Even though she did have a belly button. “She’s born from Athena like Athena was born from Zeus. I think. I wasn’t paying great attention.” 

“Seems like it should have been important–” But Nico’s snark was cut off by Luke cuffing his head.

“Percy,” Luke said, blue eyes staring at him. “What happened?”

“We had a fight,” he admitted, face flushing from shame. “I'm not even sure… I was just so surprised and kind of overwhelmed by the idea. and I think I kind of freaked out.” Understatement of the century. But then again… maybe she did, too. “I called her privileged and then she stormed off, and…”

“Did you two break up?”

He jolted, like he had been struck by lightning. Or perhaps a spear. Before that moment, the thought had never occurred to him. Athena or not, secrets or not, divine intervention, ancient rivalries, four years of lies or not, he didn't want to break up. Not ever. She was the love of his life. 

“No,” he shook his head emphatically. “We didn't break up.” They had fought, sure, but there had been no resolution. And until she told him otherwise to his face, they were still together. 

Hopefully forever.

“Do you want to break up?”

“Never.” He wanted to tell her Paris was a fool for not choosing her mother if Athena was half as beautiful as she was. He wanted to promise to fell sea monsters and the Minotaur itself for her sake. He wanted to return to the Garden at the very edge of the day, and bring her a golden apple taken from beneath the sleeping dragon’s nose. He wanted to sit in her little apartment in the palace in Stockholm and rub her feet and tell her all about his adventures and ask her about hers, and talk about where Norse monsters ranked on the scale of divine irritation.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Sometimes Nico's bluntness was too much for him, but right now he appreciated the direction.

“I don't know. I was hoping you guys might have some ideas.” 

The cousins glanced between each other, all equally lost. “Flowers?” Hazel suggested, hopping up onto the stool next to him. “Maybe a gift?” 

“Maybe.” A gift wasn’t a bad idea. But it would have to be a hell of a gift. 

Still, something on Hazel’s face troubled him. 

It must have troubled her brother, too, because he placed a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?” 

A knife slowly scraped across the wooden bar, inching its way towards her. “It’s just,” she said, biting her lip, “if she really is the daughter of Min–Athena, then…” 

Nico dragged a stool so he could sit next to her, bumping their shoulders together. Luke, taller than all of them, stood behind her, the three of them leaning in close to listen.

“There’s this story I heard from a friend once, about Minerva.” she mumbled. “When the Romans conquered Athens, they stole something from the city. Something that belonged to her. Supposedly, that’s why Athena and Minerva are so different, personality-wise.” 

Percy nodded, following along. Mostly. The different aspects thing still hurt his head sometimes. Hazel and Nico had tried to explain it to them numerous times, but Percy just couldn’t seem to get it. “What was stolen?”

“No one knows,” she said. The knife started making circles on the bar. “Minerva’s descendents have been looking for it ever since. But no one’s ever found it.” She glanced at her brother. “Remember what Ella said?” 

“Ella?” Luke asked.

“Tyson’s girlfriend–the harpy.” Nico twirled his skull ring around his finger. “She memorized the Sibylline Oracles. Whenever she’s stressed, she likes to spout random lines of prophecy, and the last time we saw her, she told us one. She said, ‘Wisdom’s daughter walks alone.’”

Percy stared. “Wisdom’s daughter walks alone?” 

“Yeah.” Nico shivered. “I don’t know what it means.” 

“I do. Luke, your mom, when we introduced her to Annabeth–” 

Luke gaped. “My mom? That was, what, two years ago? How–” 

“You know she has the power of prophecy,” Percy said. “And she gave one to Annabeth that day.” His mind raced, bits and pieces slotting together like a puzzle he just figured out he was doing. “Luke, do you still have that disk we found?” 

He frowned in confusion. “Yeah?” 

“Do you have it on you?” 

“No, it’s back in my…” he trailed off, his hand automatically going to his pocket. Luke was as shocked as anyone when he pulled it out. 

“I thought you left it in your safe,” Hazel said.

“I thought I did, too.” 

Percy held out his hand, and thought of his latest adventure. The dice game, the cistern, the disk with the owl on it. The owl he knew from Annabeth's tattoo. “I don't know why I didn't see it before,” he said, taking the disk from his cousin, “but that's an owl. Athena's owl. It looks just like the drachma tattoo she has on her foot.” He thought about his own tattoos, blue lines forming the shape of waves and tridents. Thought about phykios, and codename Septentrion, and the million little hints in both directions. 

“You think this belongs to Athena?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, “and she wanted us to find it. She wanted me to find it.” He couldn't help but smile, even if it wasn't really the time for laughing matters.

“Not sure what good that's going to do with you and the daughter of Minerva breaking up,” Hazel muttered, uncharacteristically harsh. 

He didn’t know what would happen. But he knew what he wanted. And what the first step to getting it might look like. “Athena led me to the disk so I could give it to Annabeth. I owe her that much at least.”

“You think you owe Minerva?”

“No,” Percy shook his head, “Not Minerva. Not Athena, either. But I know I owe Annabeth.”

It was four years of lies, yes. But it was also four years of love. 

If he could, he would give her the world. He wanted to give her his heart, red with his love, and he certainly wished he could give her the ring still burning a hole in his pocket.

But he could start with this: a message from her mother.

And what could be a greater peace offering, a better olive branch, than a son of Poseidon helping a daughter of Athena with her quest? 

“Okay then,” Luke said. “Nico, get us a couple of piña coladas, and then we can get down to business.” 

“At 8 AM?” 

“Trust me,” he grinned, predatory, like he was about to hotwire a car, or sell a techbro a useless JPEG. Or steal some rich kid’s boat for his cousin so he could teach them a lesson. “We’re going to need them.” 

[sleepr-agent420]

WIP Wednesday

thank you @alienoresimagines for the tag! i still have to sound out wednesday lol

a little something from the hunger games au :)

Bucky knows its childish, kicking around rocks and hitting leaves with a stick he found while theyre supposed to be quiet, but he hates how close Marge and Buck have gotten. His Buck. They're practically holding hands at this point. And everytime time Bucky stomps on some crackly dry leaves, Buck swivels his head around to shoot him a dangerous look.

At least Buck will look at him now.

Marge is ok. She's fine. She's a great girl. But she's so close.

The two walk ahead of Bucky, shoulders bumping as they try to move silently through the woods. They whisper things back and forth and Bucky would give anything to know what they're talking about.

(just firgured out what np tag means) NP TAGS: @skyphloxx @butdaddyilovehim99 @holbrookism @ranger-elizabeth

[the-vibe-is-strange]

hi :]

i feel i may be on the apl spectrum

could you just kind of give me a rundown on all that?/np

as long or as short as you like, if you answer this :]

thank you fren!

omg you have awakened a beast ive been waiting for this moment /silly

so the aplspec is just like any other aspec spectrum, in the sense that there are an ass tone of identities characterized by little to no platonic attraction/platonic attraction only in certain situations.

Platonic attraction is basically just wanting to be friends withs somebody because you feel like connected to them/you just wanna hang in a nonromantic and nonsexual way (help idk how to describe platonic attraction)

so there are different prefixes used for attraction, regardless of the type of attraction. So for instance, one romanticality on the romantic spectrum is aegoromantic, meaning your fine with romance as long as it doesn't involve you, or your fine with romance in theory but not in practice. So the aplspec equivalent of that would be aegoplatonic, meaning you're ok with platonic things as long as they dont involve you.

So you can take any aro/acespec idenity and like seperate the prefix and just splice platonic on instead of romantic or sexual

Examples Quoiplatonic -> quoiromantic Demiplatonic -> demiromantic Cupioplatonic -> cupioromantic

so feel free to lmk more about your experience and i can *try* and help you figure out whats going on when it comes to your platonic attractions if u want :]

and tysm for asking i luv talking abt stuff like this :D

[max1461]

In the last post I said:

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says in particular that a system at least as powerful as PA which proves its own consistency is inconsistent.

Writing this sentence makes me wish humans could handle center-embedding. This sentence is a horrible garden path if you're unfamiliar with the topic, as often occurs when trying to talk about math (because of all the restrictive relative clauses, representing the various conditions to theorems). Syntactic ambiguities often pile up too. Cutting out some unnecessary adjunct phrases, we have:

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says that [ [ a system which proves its own consistency ] is inconsistent ].

vs.

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says that [ a system [ which proves its own consistency is inconsistent ] ].

The latter of course being ungrammatical, but a tempting initial reading.

If we had head-final CPs with head-initial NPs (or conversely head initial CPs with head-final NPs), there would be no problem. Cf.

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says that [ [ a system proves its own consistency which ] is inconsistent ]

for the first reading, vs.

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says that [ a system [ proves its own consistency is inconsistent which ] ]

for the (ungrammatical) second reading. Ignore "that" still being in a head-initial position, it's not relevant for the point I'm making. Anyway, unfortunately, even if English worked this way—as, you know, Sumerian maybe sort of did with its case particles, and whatnot—we still wouldn't be able to phrase complex unambiguous mathematical expressions with it, because the human speech processing doohickey hates this kind of center-embedded structure at embedding depth greater than 2. Uh, for instance we can say:

The dog the cat saw

And we can say:

The dog the cat the mouse feared saw

And it's already starting to get difficult to process, and then if we try to say:

The dog the cat the mouse the chicken pecked feared saw

It's basically unparsable, even though it's nominally grammatical. Compare the relatively unproblematic right-embedded paraphrase:

The dog who was seen by the cat who was feared by the mouse who was pecked by the chicken.

Well, if English had head-final CPs, you'd have:

The dog the cat saw which

Ok,

The dog the cat the mouse feared which saw which

Doable,

The dog the cat the mouse the chicken pecked which feared which saw which

Horrendous. At best, an attempted paraphrase gets you:

The dog was seen by the cat was feared by the mouse was pecked by the chicken which which which

Which is I guess parsable, but I suspect you will not consistently get the right number of "which"s. Which incidentally will also reintroduce syntactic ambiguity.

So, ok, I don't actually know for sure if native speakers of this hypothetical language would have trouble with these constructions. But it's telling that everybody in every language seems to avoid center-embedding, in Japanese you get the reverse sort of center-embedding when relativizing on objects and, I have to dig up the paper, but I'm pretty sure speakers use paraphrase to avoid doing that more than once. And obviously, my pet example, in Sumerian you have the NP structure Noun-Genitive-[Case Clitic], and you apparently almost never see the genitive clitic =ak more then two or three times in a row (I suspect it depends on the complexity of the embedded phrases).

So, we're fucked. We're fucked if we want unambiguous parsing, we're fucked if we ever want to talk about theorems in a way that is both clear and non-circuitous in a single sentence.

Well it's probably fine. Mathematicians are getting along fine. None of this is a real problem.

[thinfatfit]

Tw suicide mental illness everything eating disorder

Isn’t it wild how if you have a physical illness and need to miss work you can be like my asthma or diabetes etc is acting up and ofc tons of jobs are shitty and will be like tough shit but for at least some they’ll be like ok np stay home sick whereas with a mental illness you can’t just be like I’m depressed you have to be like listen I haven’t slept in three days but the last time I did sleep it was for sixteen hours I don’t know when the last time is that I left the house I either don’t eat bc I’m too tired and depressed or I eat five tubs of ice cream and throw them up I might kill myself (dw I won’t literally at my followers) but I���m trying hard not to every day is lived minute to minute I also have constant ocd compulsions so do you think I could stay home this afternoon and they’re like ok fine but this afternoon only!!!!! I’m sad sometimes too yknow!!

[blkkizzat]

hey! i've seen your post about whb and want to say that i agree with you completely! like yeah pb fucked up much enough lately, but i've been following the game since pre-registration and from that moment on saw complaints very often. literally about everything. and it`s not even criticism it`s just complaining and insults! and ok ok i understand and not forbid complaining, but if complaints are constant and about everything, then why are you playing? just leave the game and have some rest and all this talk that there is no content for f2p players...well, no? to begin with, this game definitely doesn`t position itself as one that needs to be played 24 hours, 7 days a week. 15-20 minutes a day will be enough. and this is one of the main problems of the fanbase imo - expecting from the game more than it can give you also want to mention that me as f2p player don't consider NP as something terribly cashgrabbing bad. yes, if it was a little cheaper it would be better, but it`s the best option to get the character and his artifact GUARANTEED, sorry not sorry

(english is not my native language, so i apologize for any possible mistakes! and you can also ignore this message if you find it uncomfortable! i'm just glad that there are those who share the same opinion as i do about this situation)

yes you get it! criticisms are fine, but the constant insults and a unhelpful complaining that is crazy. even more crazy how people will play a game they openly dislike and keep making themselves frustrated.

but omg yes, i said that over on reddit and people hated it. this game (even for P2P) is not a 24/7 content type game like genshin or a lot of other gacha is. It's meant to be played 2-5 hours a day max and most of that is doing panty party if you wanna get to level 100 each time. I have every character but school Levi and the xmas angels (got beach raphael tho!) and I definitely could be playing more than i do but i like pacing myself and taking my time. This is not the main game someone should be playing.

yeah agree, NP could be cheaper but otherwise its near four times that amount to buy enough seals for 220 pity if you end up needing it. Also its significant steady income for PB.

your english is great! i honestly wouldnt have known if you didnt tell me. thank you for your thoughts pookies! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

[derit-s]

If anyone wants the transcript of the texts between stolas and blitz:

_________________________________

STOLAS: I'm sorry if anything I said or did may have offended you tonight.

BLITZO: It's wutevs

STOLAS: Next time you come over, maybe we can talk about what happened at Ozzie's?

BLITZO: Y?

STOLAS: l'm sorry! Nevermind, it's not a big deal. I was just worried about you. You seemed very upset and you took off so fast. But maybe I read too much into that, I'm glad if that's not the case. I wasn't upset either I just wanted to make sure you weren't and obviously you can handle any stupid joke a clown can make. Asmodeus can be very invasive in his humour, but I thought it was pretty funny myself. What he said about me at least, I enjoy being the subject of jest. Maybe you can say mean things to me too next time you come over.

BLITZO: Shur

_________________________________

STOLAS: Thanks for helping me with Via today, you were great in that human show.

BLITZO: Np

STOLAS: Are you coming over tonight with the book?

BLITZO: Like olways

STOLAS: If you dont feel like coming, that's ok! l'm sure I can do without it for one month. :)

BLITZO: K

_________________________________

STOLAS: Do you plan to visit tomorrow? I know you've been busy, and working hard. Maybe if you'd prefer, we can skip the bedroom and just relax maybe? l'm sure you need a break.

BLITZO: Wutevr u want, its ur night

STOLAS: If you're not up for it, or too tired, that is perfectly fine. No pressure, I don't have anything with the grimoire till next month.

BLITZO: Mae bee

STOLAS: Maybe instead of our usual arrangement on the full moon we could properly catch up this week? Maybe Monday?

BLITZO: I mite b bsuy

STOLAS: I wouldn't want to bother you! STOLAS: You can always drop off the book on the full moon and I can leave it for you if you are too tired to do anything...

STOLAS: But I would like to see you.

BLITZO: K

_________________________________

BLITZO: Git bevver swoon :(

STOLAS: Thank you Blitz, that means a lot. STOLAS: I might be here a while, if you ever want to visit. 💜

[fan-of-chaos]

Compilation of Blitz and Stolas messages!

Transcript:

Stolas: I’m sorry if anything I said or did may have offended you tonight.

Blitz: Itz wutevs (its whatever)

Stolas: Next time you come over, maybe we can talk about what happened at Ozzie’s?

Blitz: Y?

Stolas: I’m sorry! Nevermind, its not a big deal. I was worried about you. You seemed very upsed and you took off so fast, but maybe I read too much into that. I’m glad if that’s not the case. I wasn’t upset either I just wanted to make sure you weren’t and obviously you can handle any stupid joke a clown can make. Asmodeus can be very invasive in his humor, but I thought it was pretty funny myself. What he said about me at least. I enjoy being the subject of jest. Maybe you can say mean things to me too next time you come over.

Stolas: If you want.

Blitz: Shur (sure)

Stolas: Thanks for helping me with Via today. You were great in that human show.

Blitz: np (no problem)

Stolas: Are you coming over tonight with the book?

Blitz: Lyke olways (like always)

Stolas: If you don’t feel like coming, that’s ok! I’m sure I can do without it for one month. :)

Blitz: k (ok)

Stolas: Do you plan to visit tomorrow? I know you’ve been busy. And working hard. Maybe if you’d prefer, we can skip the bedroom and just relax maybe? I’m sure you need a break.

Blitz: Wutevr u want, its ur night (whatever you want, its your night)

Stolas: If you’re not up for it, or too tired, that is perfectly fine. No pressure, I don’t have anything with the grimoire till next month.

Blitz: mae bee (maybe)

Stolas: Maybe instead of our usual Arrangement on the full moon we can properly catch up this week? Maybe monday?

Blitz: I mite b bsuy (I might be busy)

Stolas: I wouldn’t want to bother you!

Stolas: You can always drop off the book on full moon and I can leave it for you if you are too tired to do anything…

Stolas: But I would like to see you.

Blitz: k (ok)

Blitz: Git bevver swoon :( (get better soon)

Stolas: Thank you Blitz, that means a lot.

Stolas: I might be here a while, if you ever want to visit. ❤