#sideline

[moneynow777]

(via GIPHY)

[randomreasonstolive]

Reason to Live #8898

  Not letting myself sideline my own hobbies anymore. – Guest Submission

(Please don't add negative comments to these posts.)

[disarmluna]

[afza147]

Sideline and watching spoiler only of queen of tears finale short update

I was right ..someone did die and it's new man and old hae in and baek hyun woo

Therefore that's the reason writernim leaving behind all the hint of hae in dying as she die of old age first😅 was not expecting she die of old age

Well at least they have a child which I so envy as I'm sorry for mention this but my demon writer could have put sipwon in the picture too 🥲(cross universe)

Nonetheless it's a happy ending as they live long life plus child just hyun woo alone in old age but then died too

So everyone die happily🤣

For now I'm not gonna continue where I drop coz I'm not emotionally available but I will return when Im ready to cry👍

I will make short review by then if I decide to continue

[devils-pirate-crew]

Hey Arber! Can you ask who does what on the Jersey Devil? I'm curious

Hadn't they already gone over this?

Arber furrows his brow. "So if I'm going to be part of the gunner brigade, who am I with?"

Jesper looks up, thinking it over. "There are four guns, each manned by four men. We name them after the elements to make things easier. Fire crew is McLeod, Bastian, Wood, Lazar. Water crew is Zetterlund, Okhotiuk, Hatakka, Blackwood. Earth crew is Smith, Miller, Bahl, Meier. Air crew is Tatar, Tierney, Boqvist, Willman." Yeah, it tracks that the master gunner would remember all this. "Of course, there are also substitute gunners..."

"And the sailors?"

"Eight sailors who are specifically trained sailors," Jesper notes. "White crew is Hughes - Luke, not Jack -, Graves, Haula, Sharangovich. Black crew is Nemec, Holtz, Toffoli, Nosek. Three sails, two sailors a piece for most changes. Generally, Sevo and Jack pitch in, and there's always extra gunners willing to lend a hand. Hell, I've seen Schmiddy on the ropes several times, too."

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Forbidden Door 6/25/23

Britt wore the Broken Waistband Jean in Sideline from Agolde ($248)

[empressxmachina]

(Also, on Wattpad.)

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

That was the only phrase that Madi and Jake could say as, at last, they left the Nash University locker room. Well, Jake left, and Madi went with him. So, the titanic tight end found himself running through the endless corridors of the Knights’ crown jewel as the ways they came in were no longer accessible, either locked for the night or occupied by someone meant to be there. Meanwhile, Madi sat tight, somewhat literally, by his front side in the most oversized sleeping bag known to man, tucked away in the stage-right corner, thanking God that she wasn’t jostling or vacuum-sealed right by his junk a wall away.

It was quite a conundrum for both of them.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Jake hissed halfheartedly through his teeth, verbiage unfazed by the impromptu sprint session.

Zooming through the air and pounding the floor as he ran, he didn’t know if Madi had heard him through her fabric enclosures. To be fair, though, he wasn’t trying to be heard, either, with all the security guards and Nash officials lurking around. But with Madi being visually unnoticeable to everyone under two layers of fabric and currently physically unnoticeable, despite being only disconnected by one from Jake, he couldn’t help but wonder if their hearing was one sense that could carry between them still.

He didn’t have to ponder for too long with a near-instant response, sent through the airwaves with a ding and vibration into one of his tensed fists.

{I didn’t make you do shit.} Madi messaged, using her available way of hidden communication to her advantage, before adding, {What kind of man would you be, taking orders from a two-inch-tall girl?}

Encased in cotton and embraced by flurries of fear and bittersweet scents and sensations, Madi could only wallow in her own thoughts, hypothesizing her new place in the world, and there was so much that she had already learned.

First off, she was tiny. While she clearly already knew that, even rounding up the truth in her text, her scientific nature had her internally cringing at not being able to quantitatively verify her height… or lack thereof. The average person could’ve used marks across their bodies to signify various lengths like those of days before. Jake’s overgrowth in nearly all regards made it impossible to base herself solely on that against anything like a fingerpad. But her knowledge of his wooden sword – now a whole tree trunk – and how it behaved gave her a good amount of information to work with, giving her confidence in her assertion just by eyeballing the colossal curvature further shadowing her already barely lit view.

Secondly, bodies were weirder than she had ever imagined. Inside the underpants’ pocket, where the only light around came from either Madi’s phone in her lap, whichever light rays peeked through the underwear’s weavings to Jake’s front, or the few diffused glows from above that managed to reach her from outside his pullover’s collar, past his hills of a chest and abs, and through the sliver of a zipper opening to let air circulate, there was no escape from Jake’s essence. His natural body heat, already enhanced from running, exponentially increased the warmth held within the fabric.

Was that because she was cooler now at her cup-sized state or because he was overheating due to her position next to him?

All the while, the variant pulsating from him – respiratory breaths, vascular flows, and the hellscape Jake’s hormones indeed were – shook the inner wall of the coital cave, enhancing how she was nestled by a living being rather than a typical vehicle she was used to or even an amusement park ride like how it felt to her. To experience what all used to be subconscious, visceral automation at such a magnification was impossible to put into words, and she prayed Jake wouldn’t ask whenever she got out.

If she got out.

However, above all, what sent Madi into a tizzy was how her protector was responsive to her existence despite being so distant in length. Her self-antagonizing quip that had sent soft chuckles out his mouth had also dropped quakes paired with them from his diaphragm down to her. If the inward pull from Jake’s abdomen sinking in as he expelled air wasn’t enough of a shake-up, then the twitching of her next-door neighbor that simultaneously pushed its portion of the wall out – a characteristic that Madi never noticed at full size and couldn’t miss now – was. The one-two punch Jake inadvertently brought thankfully wasn’t physically disorienting, mostly from any convex expansion being settled in front of her as she sat along a seam, but to think how she may have been affected by any more direct contact with it – him – sent her mind spinning.

Madi’s presence alone had Jake popping, maybe even for years, under her nose, and she didn’t even have to tease any ass or titties or touch him.

“You’re quite the marvel, Madeline,” Jake charmed, reading Madi’s mind as if she didn’t know better about him referring to her text. But he couldn’t sense her off-the-wall vibes. Right? “How in the world can you still have a sense of humor like that? Like this?”

Jake smiled for a second as he locked and lowered his phone out of sight, soon neutralizing and refocusing on finding the parking lot. The calmness in his voice drastically contrasted with his attitude in the locker room. His emotional and physical shakiness when transferring Madi’s near-nothingness into his pants was unforgettable. Those chocolate, doe eyes of his were just too big and soft not to melt into, looking for an assurance of security. The crescendo of heartbeats as she descended atop his palm from chest to waist level was unmissable. But the calls the cloth cavern sang as Jake pulled it open for her arrival were the loudest. The only sense of tranquility the handover had was how Jake lowered and let her slide in rather than dropping her or making her jump in on her own, despite her relative indifference at the time.

Whereas Jake gave his apologies with a sad face before sealing her in air-permeable darkness and heading out, Madi simply felt that anything else would’ve been so much worse.

“I know he gets into the zone on the field,” Madi wondered, considering Jake’s compounding compassion against his hard shell cover. “He sure got there tonight for the win and, uh, elsewhere, but I swear I’d be falling apart even more right now if the roles were reversed. Maybe that’s just me. I don’t know. Do they even make panties with pockets for girls?”

Before she could muse about sewing patterns and how she’d deal with a tiny soul, a change in momentum and inertia suddenly sent her flying face-first into the frontal side of the pocket’s fabric, then falling back into a folded and flipped position on contact with the fibers. As she tried to push herself back to a linear form, spitting flecks of loose fuzz off her tongue, she waited for a literal helping hand of God to right her back into position.

But none came. No further movement did, either. Nothing was happening.

As far as Madi could tell, Jake had pulled a juke or pivot perfectly for a lateral that sent her into a baseless back tuck basket toss that could’ve concussed her if there wasn’t padding, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. But, unlike she had just had, that wouldn’t fly, and Madi wasted no time telling him how he should’ve been taking better heed of his fragile carry-on.

She had been knocked loose but not her phone from her grasp.

{WTF J?} a somewhat muffled notification chirping outside her amorphous hamster ball signaled, followed by the click of an unlocking screen hovering above and beyond her. {You can’t just do shit like that without warning a girl. Fuck.}

Rather than an expected verbal reply, Madi heard the pitter-patters of screen tapping that popped into a new bubble seconds later. {You’re not hurt, are you?}

Madi didn’t think Jake was unintelligent, but a grammar-perfect text reply looking like something she’d send was the last thing she expected, especially with the sudden movement just moments prior. Usually, there would be a ‘flaw’ somewhere – a missing punctuation mark, a misspelling, some sort of chronically online speak, or something – but this was a text good enough for a grandma, which was weird. The showing of concern with it, though, was appreciated.

{No.} she answered back as hastily. {Just tossed like pizza dough, but I’ll live.}

The resulting chuckling brought her a bit of pleasure in her wilted position, even if their complementary trembles on all sides made getting back upright a bit more complicated. Once decent, though, she cut the nuances and made her curiosity known. {What’s wrong?}

They both had stopped moving, but Jake wasn’t sitting. He would be if he were back on the bus with his stuff and the rest of the team, right?

Instead of more textual tapping to reply, Madi was left on ‘Read’ in silence: relative silence. Without the addition of electronic noises and the screeches of rubber on polished tiles to wood to carpet and back that had become A.S.M.R. in their traveling, she soon realized that Jake and indirectly her, too, were graced by the night and all of the nature it brought, except for one thing: one set of things.

In the distance, the rumbles and murmurs from what could’ve only been, if she remembered the usual convoy correctly, three charter buses, an equipment transport truck, and whoever was around or in them.

They were at the X on their treasure map, but Jake wasn’t digging for the chest without explaining why… until he did.

{Coach Curt is out here} Jake broke the lull, catching Madi off-guard with a jump.

{Coach Curtis?} she presumed, looking past his reversion to imperfection to assess the situation.

While the sports teams and the cheerleaders were like peanut butter and jelly, Madi didn’t feel close or worthy enough to give such a prominent university figure such a familiar name, even with the secrecy of text messaging. He was the Russell Curtis, a king’s king of Kingston, but his players could have some informality and comfort with him, at least in reference, if not right in his face. Yet, there was a detectable tinge of panic in Jake’s words, or Madi was projecting hers onto them.

{Why would he be a problem for you?} she tried. Getting nothing immediately, she guessed it had to be tied to her and half-jokingly probed, {It’s not like y’all cavity search, right?} Still left in the dark with not even an upheaving gasp to show his acknowledgment, Madi went for the gut she sat aside, being blunt about it. {Did you fuck up or something?}

With more hush, Madi accepted it as a problematic ‘Yes.’ However, Jake practically verified it through a waterpark’s worth of reply bubbles.

{Kinda} … {Maybe} … {Idk} Jake stood with the tips of his hair billowing in the slight evening breeze, statuesque yet tense from head to toe, frozen to keep from imploding from inner pressure that he hoped Madi couldn’t physically feel. {ngl I gave a pretty bs excuse to come find you} … {and I’m realizing ill have to deal with it}

{Oh, come on, dude.} Madi commented without sympathy, rolling her eyes at the thought. {If you gave a shitty excuse to get here, you can give a better one to get back.}

{Debatable}

{Not if you’re careful.} Madi had faith that Jake was exaggerating his worries, and she figured she could get him moving again through a spurt of confidence… or gaslighting: whichever worked. {You promised you’d protect me, remember?}

While he couldn’t actually feel it – something went terribly wrong if he could – Jake felt as if Madi was flirtatiously fluttering her eyelashes at him with one of those devilish grins of hers that screamed, ‘You know I’m right.’ However, he pushed it aside, rather than disputing her claim or verifying it with a pants peek that would’ve proved it accurate, going forward with an outwardly normal gait, knowing that he would have to do what she (and he) said to get back without more controversy.

Coach Curt, meanwhile, combating the evening sky in and out of his all-black garb, was only visible from the illumination of head-sized headlights. He also appeared to be on a phone call, turned away from Jake and the school building entirely. Could Jake get by him without being detected? Having ninja stealth and speed were qualities he played on the field that practically ran through his veins. Some players even teased Jake in the past about it, claiming it as a literal quality by blood before getting got by him right after every time.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t being watched where he was, even by the unsuspected coach.

Was Jake truly safe from interrogation upon entry? Nash cameras were on him, the bus cameras were on him, Madi – the reason and a witness, herself – was literally on him, and who was to say how many Royals weren’t already watching him through the windows? It wouldn’t have taken long for Jake’s forged rationale to spread in their packed-full tin can of a bus and wade over to the other two, so running through would’ve only increased suspicion.

And so he walked.

Across the concrete, he strode calmly yet quickly, not garnering any looks from anyone on or off the buses as far as he could tell. However, he did wonder if having his phone out in the open like a weirdo would spout any drama. Indeed, a bunch of young adults high on adrenaline and totally nothing else that’d make every moment a fit check or dick-measuring contest, if they could, wouldn’t be so petty. But, wanting to be an accommodating host to his hidden heroine and not risk her being emulsified at a false move by repacking his phone away, Jake would have to figure that out if the time came.

With the bus steps getting closer and closer in his sights, Jake felt confident that he was in the clear, only needing to snake past any nonsensicalities that his team members would send his way or unknowingly to Madi’s. Just a handful of stairs and a couple of aisles, and all was–

“Averill!”

***

Yeah, yeah, I know it's been a year. May I remind you I have over ten universes I'm constantly pondering about? And a job? And other IRL shit to do? Fuck a schedule. I'm writing, though, so that's a win. The audacity of me to post the faves in AAPI month and as the 10th anniversary of me being on the hell-site that is DeviantArt approaches, lmao. That wasn't planned, but sometimes things just work out. 😊 Check out the gallery for Sideline on DA! Or, click the tag of the same name here or in my profile! << first | previous |  next (TBC) >>

[aaaaaaccccckkkk]

1 hopia at 1 crinkles nalang oh, kunin nyo na para makauwe na q. 🤣

[tom4jc]

James S Stewart Quote

“The concern for world evangelization is not something tacked onto a man’s personal Christianity which he may take or leave as he chooses. It is rooted in the character of the God who has come to us in Christ Jesus. Thus, it can never be the province of a few enthusiasts, a sideline, or a specialty of those who happen to have a bent that way. It is the distinctive mark of being a Christian.”…

[dropthegossip]

This is Swayman. Are they referring to Ullmark leaving as the heartbreak? Because I don't think it's Alessandra.

[kuuhaiyu]

i really can't emphasize how heartbreaking it is that the recent harassment campaign against @/90-ghost (among others; see: 1, 2, 3) has led to well-meaning people telling others not to listen to him. he is one of the most visible survivors of the genocide here on tumblr. his entire journey of escape is so well documented! and yet, it only took a few people confidently pointing fingers to create an entire witch hunt accusing him and other palestinians of being disreputable scammers and liars.

i can't help but feel like the reason why people were SO eager to believe those accusations, is because it was uncomfortable to see posts from palestinians every day asking for our time, attention, money, and support; so when someone presented the perfect excuse to ignore all those posts and asks while also taking the high ground, people just LEAPED onto it. they wanted to believe it, because it would be more comfortable.

honestly, i understand feeling overwhelmed by bad news, by the number of asks and messages in your inbox, and so on and so forth. i understand needing to set boundaries for yourself so you don't get burned out. i think this is really when you have to have a set of principles to fall back on, even when you're tired, uncomfortable, angry, and/or sad. so here's the one i suggest, which has been working for me best: don't make your discomfort with this situation into someone else's problem, and for god's sake don't make it a public problem.

if you hate seeing fundraiser posts or news about gaza, i can't emphasize this enough, JUST MOVE ON. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND SCROLL PAST! all you have to do is absolutely nothing. which is what you were doing anyway, so it shouldn't be hard. if you don't have the heart to read, or reblog, or share, or donate, or support in other ways, at the very least, don't obstruct the efforts of people who ARE trying to make a difference. this is, quite literally, the least you can do.

[stars-and-birds]

Dana’s last ‘fuck you’ to Disney

He/they collector

Genderqueer/bi-gender papa king

TWO girlfriend kisses

Onscreen mlm kiss

Implied aladarius

a happy ending to the bi/enby couple

A happy ending to the aro/ace character

And

Death to the white Christian puritain

[cuzikan]

(old Dave was a fighter, a lone outsider, if you cross him he'll bring you down, hah, ya see what I did there?😁😎)

[devils-pirate-crew]

HEY! What did I just tell you? Dougie does not deserve this hostility!

Arber sighs at that, pressing his hand to his temple and looking back to Dougie. He opens his mouth to speak to the pilot but lets out an empty sigh instead.

"I don't - you shouldn't know that, though." The pilot pauses, voice even softer than usual, almost swallowed up in the sounds of Jack and Trevor fucking around with the crew of Sensibility in the background. "We don't ever - discuss that. Is that - "

Arber leans back in his seat again, nodding. "The spirits tell me things. They, uh, think that was harsh on you. Not the getting abandoned bit, just - how I said it, I think?" A pause. "Well, also the getting abandoned part too, probably."

"But how do they know - " Nico cuts in, clearly perlplexed.

Arber merely shrugs at that. "That's just how they work. You don't really question it after a while. Runs in the family, so it's not like I ever had major problems with it." As if on instinct, his eyes flicker to Dawson again; the pilot's mate shivers where he lies on the bench, still pushing up into Arber's touch like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. Damn, he hopes the kid's okay.

A silence falls over the table for a long moment. "Uh, sorry that happened to ya, Dougie," Cole pitches in. The pilot nods silently, taking the apology.

"You said your spirits don't like the post office," Nico leads in, changing the topic. Arber hums in agreement. "We found Dawson by the post office today, in a really bad state." Sparing a glance at Nick and Dougie, it seems like they're putting together the same pieces Nico has, just a little bit slower. (Cole's too drowsy to care, still half-dozing on Nick's shoulder.) "You were the only one that could calm him down, Arber," the captain of Jersey Devil presses on. "Why is that?"

Fuck.

"It's - not my place to explain," Arber mumbles out through grit teeth. "Dawson should be the one to tell you - if he chooses to."

"He won't tell us," Nico replies, "Because he doesn't trust us. Your words, not mine. So it's up to you, Arber."

"I - "

"If you tell us, we can help him," the captain cuts him off. "If you don't..." Nico sighs. "I don't know if we can travel with him. He's a risk we can't afford to take."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.