#still hoping to have a wonderful time and do many good things

[genderqueerdykes]

just kind of throwing this at your wall, sorry in advance. saw the post about "kill all men" and got really upset

im a trans guy. my boyfriend is cis, and im the first guy hes dated before. (sees me fully as whatever i want to be, does not care about my gender expression and loves me for me. great guy). he doesnt have many friends from being asocial as a teenager, so most of his friends are my trans friends!

of course. like every trans group seems to fall prey to, theres always the "all [CIS] men are bad" conversation that comes up somehow. and i never really thought much of it, because in my head itd be "ah yeah all men Except My Boyfriend"

but he and i were talking after some drinks, and he made a point that really struck me. about how he doesn't like being The Exception to the point, that he's still a man and has no interest in being anything But a man. so when people say stuff like that, he gets uncomfortable; not because He IS The Problem (like everyone who gives the "if youre saying not all men, youre the men" argument) but because it makes him feel ostracized from everyone. and idk, it really struck me.

we say stuff like that way too often in an attempt to exclude certain groups of people; and i feel like we end up excluding people close to us by proxy.

thanks for listening

i really appreciate you for taking the time to send this. i've been meaning to talk about this and have been forgetting. the following is of course not directed at you, anon, it is directed at people who behave like this

you're not feminist, progressive, cool, pro-queer rights or funny for saying "kill all men". you are exposing that you are a violent and dangerous person for believing that people should be profiled and literally killed for their gender or PERCEIVED gender.

this doesn't make people like you more. it outs you as a danger. how do we know you won't turn that hatred toward women whenever you feel like changing the goalposts? i can't trust someone like that to not turn that hatred toward other genders, either. YOU are the dangerous person you are profiling men as. you can't use men as a scapegoat for everything. sometimes YOU are the violent person who needs help.

your boyfriend shouldn't have to feel like that. like people have never really cared about gay men but people just straight up gave up all pretenses that they do and i hate it. cis men are not inherently evil. cis men can still be queer. cis men can still be good people. your boyfriend shouldn't have to feel isolated because he's cis. that's profiling. he belongs. why do people assume that everyone with a partner who is a man hates them? not everyone is choosing to be in a relationship with someone they hate. i understand that some people will date someone no matter who just to have a partner so they're not lonely, but not everyone does this. some people genuinely love their boyfriends

i'm sorry you both have dealt with this. i hope things can improve because men don't deserve to feel like this. this is why toxic masculinity exists in the first place. we have to stop reinforcing that men are evil monsters. they won't stop believing that if we keep telling them that forever. stay safe. your boyfriend is not a bad person & deserves to have a wonderful life.

[last-tarrasque]

Of misinderstandings that @txttletale makes, but I am going to focus on this argument.

workplace democracy and worker control over the means of production and an economic plan prioritising the common social good represent an astronomic increase in ''standard of living'' much greater than what is lost by not having New Iphone and Fresh Banana

This error comes from viewing socialism as this great and wonderful utopia where everyone has workplace democracy and there is an economic plan! This often is demonstrated by the line "Under socialism a backwater like Russia became an industrial superpower with a 100% literacy rate in just a few decades, so Imagine what it could do here!"

The thing is that the experience of the soviet people after the revolution was not 100% literacy rates and socialist paradise. The experience of the soviet worker for after the October revolution really sucked. Thanks to the devastation of the civil war and the blockade by the imperialist bloc, famines where a constant threat and millions lost their lives to them, those who didn't die to famine did not eat like kings either, and many subsisted on black bread and other cheap foodstuffs for years on end. Even after the civil war the residents of Moscow were forced to cannibalise the city for fire for multiple winters, dozens of people crowded into single rooms. Workers in many coal mines had to work months or even years without pay in order to keep the trains functioning, clothing became incredibly scarce, the Soviet Union many times had to tell tens of thousands of peasants that many of them would die before the harvest, but if they put themselves through hell some of them might live. Overall the years following the Soviet victory in the civil war represented a steep drop in living standards across the board. The Soviet people by and large willingly faced down this miserable present with boundless hope and revolutionary optimism for a bright socialist future, but that does not change the fact that their present was hell on earth in many cases.

Of course this would not last, the soviet people would come out of the NEP and into socialist construction far better than they were before the USSR, but this was only after massive death and suffering, and the average living standards were still far below that of western labor aristocrats, sure they had all the necessities, they had good security and literacy, and workplace democracy and the great boons of socialism, but the western labor aristocrat would find their life miserable, the convenience, luxury and other looted privileges which they had grown accustomed to would by and large not be available, where are far more than "having New Iphone and Fresh Banana" as @txttletale puts it.

In short, read Ann Louise Strong's The First Time in History, and then ask yourself, how many pampered westen labor aristocrats, living lives of absurd decadence off of the plunder of the third world would willingly chose to go through that in hopes of achieving a decent lives that still have a lower living lower than what they have today. A few most certainly would take that, but nothing more than a few.

An end to imperialism will mean a decrease in the living standards of the imperial core, so anti-imperialism *isn't* in their own self-interest. The only way for imperial citizens to be anti-imperialists is to act out of altruism and self-sacrifice.

this is obviously nonsense! socialism in the imperial core would in fact make the lives of the proletariat much better! every time someone tries to make this silly argument on either side it gets sillier, workplace democracy and worker control over the means of production and an economic plan prioritising the common social good represent an astronomic increase in ''standard of living'' much greater than what is lost by not having New Iphone and Fresh Banana

[hinamie]

Sending this as anon bc I'm shyyyy but hi!!! Ive been following you for a while and I LOVE the way you draw Yuji so so so much. Adore him even. He's my baby and I love him. You draw him so GOOD I go emotionally feral every time you draw a new Yuji thats how much I love him I was wondering if you have any tips when it comes to rendering his hair??? I've been drawing him for months now and I still struggle every single time I draw his hair and it's beginning to annoy me so much. I really really love the way you render his so I was sort of wondering how you go about doing it??? If thats not a bother of course. I can't stress this enough but I love your art and you've been a big artistic inspiration for me for the past few months!!! Hope you're doing well :)

hi anon!!! ik your question was about hair specifically but i got carried away and ended up with a timelapse of the whole render ..but i figured it's been a while so consider it a bonus! I'll go into a few specifics under the cut in case i get Also carried away rambling :'> it's a lot easier to Do than to explain but I hope u can still take something away from this <3

i'm on a painting kick so that means i mainly work by taking big swatches of colour blocks and then going in and refining them. u can see in the beginning of the video i start by just throwing down approximate colours and values according to where i want my light source to be before cleaning everything up. I use a combination of a hard angled chisel for flats, a chalky/textured oil brush to blur edges, and a textured tapered brush pen for detail.

rn the way i draw hair uses a lot of Big shapes that i try to separate into somewhat believable layered hairstyles by using small, high contrast shadows to give the illusion of depth. speaking of shadows, smth i play around with when it comes to yuuji specifically is shading his hair with colours that border on either brown or grey--depends on th piece ofc, there are times when i saturate this boy to hell and back, but i find using neutral shadows Grounds the pink a lot

honestly a good rule of thumb when rendering layers is light on top dark underneath fshdsdh a lot of the time hair rendering is just one big convoluted gradient. i break up the monotony with thin sharp lines around the edges where colours meet to imply individual strands, but lately i'm trying to cut back with how many strands i render in detail. i don't think this video is the best example of it (or maybe yuuji's hair in general doesn't lend itself well to what i'm trying to achieve), but ideally I'd like wider swaths of colour with fewer interrupting fine lines. megumi is a lot more forgiving w this i find

in a similar vein , i think in general it's rly hard working with hair like yuuji's which in official art is just . a nondescript spiky puff on top of an undercut... if u want to be more faithful to his design be my guest but i personally try to rectify his hairstyle by picking a few points of origin for the hair chunks in order to make the growth direction and volume make sense. since i draw yuuji's hair a lot longer than it is in canon, for reference i tend to look at a lot of women's undercut/pixie cut styles to get a better idea of how to layer everything. i like making his hair swoopy and fwippy rather than Spiky, if that makes sense

those r just some things i do, but honestly i wouldn't worry abt being terribly precious with it. hair is rly forgiving in that there are a million ways to make it look good , i think that the most important thing is being aware of your light source and adjusting your values accordingly. play around, see what works, have fun with it! and don't resist it if u find yourself being led in a completely different direction lmao ik i just went over my current process but i think i've brought up before how hair is often the most volatile of all the features i draw and i change up how i approach it A Lot .

i'll shut up now bc ive Already been talking too long but thank u so much for your kind words and I hope u found something abt this helpful!!!

[hxrsheykisses]

Omgg you write based on ur fic right? If so could u do the club boys x a reader in their club that does school cheer and allstar? Like going to her comps or games, seeing her uniform, and watching her become like a totally different person from her normally shy self?😭 I think it would be cute!! Love love loveee ur fic keep up the good work😽

THIS IS SO FIRE🔥🔥🔥🔥 YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE GENIUS FOR THIS REQUEST!!!!

OH. MY. GOD????

Okay, you CANNOT be the same girl who joined their club cause what???

Now, they were wondering why you haven’t been coming to the club meets on Fridays hardly and on this particular day, they were gonna give you some shit for it. Bill specifically because he’s the “leader” so of course he’s gonna ask why you haven’t been showing up.

So, the four of them waited on your front porch for a good hour…they were VERY impatient but they wanted to catch you at the right moment to pester you about where you have been going, completely unaware that nearly every Friday their school had a football, basketball, or even a soccer game to host. This is what they get for not sticking around and not caring about what events are happening but it still doesn’t excuse you being missing!

After an hour of them sitting there on your porch, they saw car lights pulling up in your driveway and they perked up. They were going to confront you ONCE and for ALL—let’s hope you don’t possibly be kicked from the club due to your shutout attendance.

… “WHAT THE FUCK?” -Bill, who’s standing there with his mouth agape as he stared at you. The other three had the exact same expression as they watched you—who was also looking like a deer in headlights as you held your cheer bag tightly.

It was just some silent staring that the five of you were doing until your mom broke it with asking you if you told the boys that you got into Cheerleading now. You hadn’t told them.

Were they mad? Nah. Were they still upset about you not telling them? Yes. But did you look hot in that cheer uniform? Hell yeah. Sooooo what could they say?

They were confused. They didn’t understand why or how you found yourself involving in such a competitive and social sport like Cheerleading. It went out of your character gradually so it was a surprise for them.

They were cool with it—cause I mean you’re still their crush- I mean friend, right? The only thing that’s an issue is how are you supposed to tend club meetings now? Even worse, will you be able to hang out with them as much as you did before getting into Cheerleading? It was a wreck because they NEEDED to see you. They HAD to see you. It was like a drug for them that they never did wish to have a hangover from. Crazy comparison, but it’s the genuine truth, the whole truth!

“Why not just go see her games or competitions?” -Jerry.

Oh. Oh Jerry. You dumb FUCK. Why would they drop everything to go see the girl of their dreams, do some backflips and cartwheels alongside her clown ass teammates, look at sweaty jocks, and their school lose this seasons game? Are we deadass?

Yes. Yes we are deadass. Cause guess what? The next game, they sat on those bleachers and cheered you on like no other. Even if y’all’s school did lose, they cheered like batshit crazy. They received so many weird ass stares from people beside them while they stuffed theirselves full with snacks from the concessions. It was a whole THING with them.

Would yall believe me if I told you Jerry let out the girliest scream when he saw you do a backflip while one of your cheer buddies were holding you up. Luckily, you landed on the other girl’s hand, ultimately ending up okay in the end but that was scary!

Don’t invite them to your cheer comps. Dont do it.

Cause one time, your team didn’t win the competition—it was the hardest one yet and you all worked very hard on it. The judges were pretty biased and what not—it was very obvious that they were and it got under your skin. So that sensitivity inside of you boiled over as you cried because that’s so frustrating. Your teammates were trying to comfort you and all of this other stuff but it will NEVER beat how bad the boys acted.

They cussed the judges out and everything cause are we FOR REAL? How did you not AT LEAST get third place? The shit is rigged! It ended up in them getting escorted out while you followed after them. Did they get the spot you deserved? No. But was it sweetly chaotic about what they did? Yes.

They saw that you have came out of your bubble SO MUCH and it genuinely makes them proud because they never saw that side of you. It really showed that you changed—and not in a bad way either. The five of you still hang out a lot, they see you every Friday for games, they cheer you on. The list grows!

It makes them even more happy when you tell them that they were one of the main reasons why you started to open up.

They love you so fucking much, girl💔💔💔

[ruth-writes]

I finally watched Wicked and I have thoughts (I haven't read anyone else's takes because I didn't want to spoil myself so these are purely my own thoughts right after seeing the movie).

In the beginning, when Glinda and Elphaba were singing about how much they hated each other, I was sure there was gonna be enough queerbaiting for everyone on Tumblr to be rightfully mad. I usually don't end up shipping the queer couple everyone is, I think a lot of the time I feel like relationships in shows seem forced in general? But I immediately thought about it here. I mean, 'What is this feeling I felt the moment I laid eyes on you'? Then, the guy showed up, and I actually thought he was pretty sweet. He treated Elphaba normally right from the start, and he didn't seem to know how ean Glinda was yet when he got with her (the scene during the dance when he says it's not your fault). And then, Glinda's 'redemption arc' was entirely unsatisfactory (which I know was the point, but these are my thoughts in the middle of the movie and I knew very little about the plot). I know Glinda was never supposed to actually be good, but I was still frustrated by how easily Elphaba forgave her and called her her best friend. I guess I can understand that when you have no friends your entire life, your standards can be low (I'm speaking from experience). Still, I wish she's given a little more pushback during the makeover scene. None of that really matters, though, because Elphaba chose being an anti-fascist over going along with Glinda's bullshit (even though there I was also kind of annoyed by how amicably they seemed to part ways, Elfaba still calling Glinda her friend?) Anyway, I guess what I'm getting at is that though I'd also like it if Elphaba simply didn't have a love interest, I like the dudebro more than Elphaba and Glinda. I don't know if that's unpopular, I haven't read any takes yet. I think I'd like it most if he was her knew best friend. A lot of the time dudes that are supposed to be incredible in movies are actually pretty mediore, but he helped her with the animal and went after her.

The movie portrayed bullying so much more accurately than most movies. I don't mean the musical scenes where everyone was disgusted by her, I mean Glinda's subtle things. The hat, constantly saying condescending things packaged in niceness, etc.

I'm not sure where I stand on her sister. I don't know if her being embarassed by Elphaba's presence in the beginning (before she did the magic, when thet were talking to the teacher) was because she was embarassed of her older sister babysitting her or Elphaba being green. I do hope she and Elphaba find each other again.

A lot of the scenes genuinely fucked me up, they were so accurate to the rise of fascism we're seeing right now. I cried during so many of the creature's scenes, and during the painful transformation of the monkey. I don't want to speak a lot on how welm the racism allegory was done (I do always wonder about the fact that in movie's like this, the racism is only about the literal color of her skin. As the only green person, there's not any culture or other things that minorities are also opressed for in the real world. The animals had more of that, though. I think I'll read more about how people felt about that, because as a white person I obviously can't say if it spone to my experience or not.)

A lot of the time Ariana Grande was singing so high I had trouble understanding the words. To be fair, the theater I was watching it at had german subtitles and watching in one language and reading in another is very confusing when you're fluent in both

[slptkkn]

hate to be that guy but my first official tumblr post is unfortunately going to be a ghoap oneshot i can’t bring myself to finish

mdni obviously

1.5k words

small cw for pup being used as a petname, that’s all

It wasn’t fair at all. His thoughts weren’t fair, feelings just aren’t fair.

Why was he touching himself thinking about his lieutenants hands all over him?

It was a singular time, he had to be shown how to correct his stance.. but god, he can still remember how warm Ghost’s hands were. He desperately needs those hands elsewhere, but he just cannot physically bring himself to tell Ghost- why would he? For all he knows, Ghost is straight. Probably has a lovely lady waiting for him back in Birmingham.

That brought a wave of shame crashing over Soap almost instantly. He was curled up beneath his blankets palming himself to a man who most definitely wants nothing to do with him in that way. Plus, whoever he had at home must surely be doing the same thing. How could they not? Ghost was an amazing man, amazing lieutenant. Literally everything anyone could ask for, save for the wall that he constantly seems to have up.

Never letting anybody in, always by himself if not with the rest of the 141 for work purposes.

Maybe he didn’t have someone at home?

“Fuck,” Soap hissed, heat coiling tight in his gut. He was so deprived, it didn’t take him long to reach this point. It’d be embarrassing if he were with anybody.

Soap bites the back of his hand as he releases a whimper, spilling onto his stomach with a shaky exhale.

It took a minute for him to come down, and that’s when all of the embarrassment hit him like a ton of bricks. He really just got off on fantasies and the lingering warmth of Ghost’s hands.

Un-fucking-believable.

While in the shower, a wave of warmth washed over him and he was brought back to how Ghost’s chest felt against him as he gave instruction. The vibration of his voice in his chest was almost enough to force Soap to drop every ounce of control and beg Ghost to have him, even if just for one night.

Idly, he wonders if Ghost would be into one night stands. He most certainly doesn’t seem like the type. That thought crushes Soap’s hope that maybe, just maybe he had a chance.. but Ghost wasn’t even gay. So why hope?

Days went by after that, and Soap purposefully kept himself away from Ghost unless proven absolutely necessary. And that was an extremely difficult task. Not only did he want to be near Ghost, it seemed like Ghost always needed him for something. Most times the things were extremely mundane, things that Ghost could’ve easily done himself.

Overseeing training? Easy, he could’ve done it. Plus, it’s his job. Ghost is supposed to be doing it. But for whatever reason, Ghost needed him there anyways- not that Soap’s complaining, of course. Well, not too much.

It’s a pain in the ass to need to excuse himself after Ghost touches him, though. He’s never been one for praying, but he’s had one too many close calls so far, and he’s praying Ghost didn’t hear him this most recent time.

“Soap, c’mere, yeah?” Ghost calls from down the hall.

They’d just finished a session, and Soap really, really needed to go relieve himself. If he turned around and faced Ghost, he’d have to explain why he had a raging, leaking boner after rolling around with his sweaty superior.

“Ah.. LT, got something I gotta go do,” Soap replies nervously, only half turning. “We can catch up later, yeah?”

That reply was very obviously not something Ghost was expecting. The man let out a huff and began closing the distance between them.

Soap began to panic. He would not have a good explanation for any of this. Regardless, he sucked in a breath and turned around, ready to sputter and come up with anything that would remotely suffice for an excuse, but before he could even get a word past his lips, Ghost was on him.

His back was slammed against the wall and Ghost’s large, rough hand was grabbing his face.

“Now, what if it was somethin’ important, mm?” He breathed, his eyes roaming Soap’s face with an unreadable expression due to the mask. Soap couldn’t open his mouth to protest even if he wanted to. “Would you have still snuck off to wank if it was important?”

His eyes widened. He was caught- but he wasn’t obvious… was he? Unfair.

Ghost used his free hand and pulled his mask up above his nose. He’s smirking, the fucker.

“Anything to say for yourself, MacTavish?” he asks lowly.

All Soap can do is shake his head as a furious blush creeps up onto his face. He has nothing he really can say. Ghost caught him, and there’s no telling how long he’s known. Has he been acting on purpose?

Slowly, but definitely not gently, Ghost releases Soap’s face and lets his eyes shamelessly run down to the tent in his shorts. Absolutely nothing could’ve ever prepared him for Ghost to immediately stick his hand past the waistband of his shorts and boxers.

“Ghost- What’re ye doin’?!” Soap hissed, but every ounce of protest left him the instant Ghost’s warm hand made contact with his aching cock.

“Doing what you want- you didn’t think I heard you earlier? You sweet little thing.” Ghost practically purred as his unoccupied hand pressed against Soap’s chest. “Think I could pull louder sounds from you, hm?”

Soap almost collapsed dead from both embarrassment and arousal. Ghost had heard him jerk off in the bathroom earlier that day, and he’s still so deprived that he’s right on track to cum right in the mans hand. He hadn’t thought that Ghost would follow him after he left the gym, but he’s sort of glad he did.

“Aye, think you could pull a lotta sounds out of me, sir,” Soap responds, his voice low and shaky as he rolls into Ghost’s palm. He has to hold back a groan of pure relief, he’d been dreaming of Ghost touching him this way for way longer than he’d like to admit, and this was pure heaven.

Ghost smirks. “Let’s see, then.”

Without much warning, Ghost removed his hand and grabbed Soap, pulling him down the hallway and into his quarters. He quite genuinely didn’t give Soap enough time to catch his breath before he was on him, shoving him backwards onto the bed.

“Ghost.. Ghost, stop,” Soap pants, pushing the lieutenant back. So many thoughts began to run ramped through his head, but one stuck out.

Ghost gave him a questioning look, and he swallowed before speaking again. “You, er… you never expressed anything for me so this… this is new- not that I don’t want it-!”

“I never thought you were gay, MacTavish. But you also aren’t exactly subtle,” Ghost chuckles as he leans over Soap. “Askin’ me to spar, then runnin’ off like a chicken without a head. Thought I wouldn’t piece things together?”

Soap swallows, completely covered by the bigger male. “I planned on tellin’ ye.. I did.”

Ghost tuts. “I doubt it, MacTavish.”

Immediately, he pulls his mask off and slams his lips into Soap’s. A shameful groan crawls its way out of Soap’s throat and his arms snake around Ghost’s neck.

This serves as invitation for Ghost to spread Soap’s legs and push himself between them, and by god, does it feel absolutely amazing. Soap has to fight every urge he has to not rut against him like the horny dog that he is.

Ghost breaks first for air, but immediately shoves his hands beneath Soap’s shirt and pulls it off of him, revealing scarred but toned skin. His eyes hungrily roam the mans torso, and the look on Ghost’s face… Soap would kill to see it all the time. He looks like a man starved. Was he just as deprived as he was?

“Johnny,” he practically growls as he begins his assault on Soap’s neck. “Need you- have needed you. You know how bad I’ve wanted to just pin you down and fuck you stupid?”

Those words send a jolt of heat straight down Soap’s spine. He’s been wanting him too? All this time, and Soap could’ve been taken care of if he wasn’t such a pussy.

“You want me, Johnny?” Ghost asks, his voice a low murmur.

Of-fucking-course he does.

“Aye,” he replies, nodding. “Been wantin’ you for a long time.”

“Too shy? That’s alright..” Ghost says as he pushes himself up, ridding himself of his own shirt. “Turn your brain off ‘n let me, ‘kay?”

Soap nods eagerly, all he wants is to let Ghost use him in any way he wants. And he does exactly what Ghost asked of him. His brain was off the entire time they’d made out, but instinctively back on once he registered Ghost’s index finger pressing into his hole.

A sharp whine leaves him and he arches up. “Simon,” he pants.

“There he is,” Ghost chuckles as his middle finger pushes in. That pulls a shameful whimper from Soap’s mouth. “So tight.. lookit you.”

Ghost curls his fingers and brushes against that sweet spot that makes Soap release a garbled whine.

A smile crosses his face and he scissors his fingers, pulling a broken whine out of Soap. “Please, Simon… I- I want… I-“

“What do you want, pup?” Simon murmurs, leaning down to press kisses along Soap’s spine.

The petname sets his nerves on fire and he lets out a shaky breath. “I want you, need you. Please?”

“Love when you beg, pup,” Simon purrs. “I got you.”

[darkmagyk]

For the tropes list, 10 & 58, please!

Airport/Travel AU & Accidental Eavesdropping This is set in the Honesty and Promise Me Universe, in between Chapters 18 and 19.

Annabeth isn’t sure why Percy choose a flight with a connection. She knows they could have afforded a direct flight from Norway back to New York, and she’d have preferred that even if they weren’t flying with a 2 month old baby.

Baby Odessa made everything harder. She was sleeping now, as they wandered through Charles de Gaulle. Annabeth was kind of horribly jealous. Odessa had been an absolute angle on the trip, which was good. She was the cutest and tinies little flower girl you ever did see at Magnus’s wedding. But the second they’d gotten on their plane, she’d decided to scream her little lungs out. Annabeth and Percy had taken turns walking her up and down the aisles while they could. The flight was an early one, too, so Annabeth wasn’t at her best.

Now, she was fading fast, holding onto Percy’s hand as he guided them through the airport with his morning person energy and his French skills.

The thing was Percy guided, balanced, and supported women in his day job, so he was very very good at it. And Annabeth allowed herself to check out, just keep her hand in his and be dragged to the gate, before collapsing into the seat and dozing off against Percy’s shoulder.

He was gentle when he jostled her awake to get on the plane. Maybe she shouldn’t have been sleeping yet. It was a long ride from Paris to New York, and she probably wanted to try and sleep some then, once Odessa screamed herself out. But she couldn’t manage it. Percy got them to their seats, right at the front of the plane, allowing her to spread out in First Class.

She was asleep again before the French safety presentation started. She woke up to a sound overhead, something about approach.

“You’ve been so so good, princess,” She heard Percy whisper to Odessa, who was now awake in his arms, staring at him with wide eyes that she swore were turning from blue to green already. “I’m glad we let Mommy sleep. She really deserved it.”

He shifted a little and Annabeth shut her eyes again, to make it seem like she was still fast asleep.

She must have slept for a long time. It wasn’t a short flight from Paris to New York.

“I hope she likes her surprise. I think its going to be great, but we’ll see.” He was saying more, “I’m pretty excited to share it with you, too.”

Surprise? She wasn’t sure what that could mean. Her birthday was coming up though. Percy had asked her what she wanted to do, and she’s been non-committal. Maybe that was a mistake? She knew how Percy liked a party. And knew he’d 100% throw her one for half a chance. If she got on board, she could control the narrative.

“Current Temperature in Athens is about 30 degrees and…” Came over the plane’s intercom

That wasn’t right. She must still be dreaming, she shook herself awake a little more, and sat up. It was June, it couldn’t be 30 degrees.

And Athens…

“Hey,” Percy said, smiling at her, “how was your nap?”

“It was probably longer then a nap,” Annabeth said, if we’re almost there, blinking and then turning towards the window, ready to see the familiar outline of New York. She saw no such thing “Percy, where are we?”

“Surprise,” He offered, a dopey smile on his face, but a bit of hesitation in his eyes, “You know how you said you always wanted to go to Greece, but you never got around too it….”

She glanced out the window again, and then at her boyfriend.

“That’s Athens?”

“Yep?”

“We’re going there?”

“We have a room at the King George for the next 10 days.”

She could feel tears beginning to creep in at the corner of her eyes. “Can we see the Parthenon?”

“As many times as, you want.”

“Oh my god,” She turned to him, and leaned in for a long kiss, then looked down at the little girl in his arms. And she couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, if maybe this man was a gift from the gods, “Thank you so much, I love you.”

“I love you too,” He said, “I’m so excited to explore with you.”

[eternalwritess]

hii i’m new here and was wondering if i could get a jjk matchup?

i’m a straight female, estp, short (5’2) with brown eyes and black hair.

personality wise i’m usually pretty carefree and cheery unless there’s a proper reason not to be. i’m pretty ‘all or nothing’ which can be a good or bad thing (basically no impulse control). i do have a bit of a short temper when people get on my nerves, but i usually get over it quickly or feel guilty afterwards.

i’m also a D1 yapper, usually turn things into a joke to keep things light although some people may think i’m being blatantly rude.

likes include pop music, gaming, blind boxes (gambling addiction?), the beach, travelling, watching sports

dislikes include waiting, people without common sense, chores, assholes

a couple of fun facts;

- i can do any rollercoaster but if the ride involved spinning i am OUT

- i always remember the most useless things to the greatest details but nothing i actually need to know

thank youuu

i match you with... 𝓢𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓾 𝓖𝓸𝓳𝓸 ██ 20% _ ████ 60% _ █████ 80% _ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

❋ You two most likely met at Jujutsu Tech! I don't see you as someone who he met as a kid but that's mostly because... yeah he had a very excluded childhood in terms of who he interacted with at the time but fret not as you two do meet!

❋ His first impression of you was that you were tolerable to be around, more so than anyone else that he had met. You pretty much matched his energy if not getting him to calm down a little bit when he likely should've. That being said you still got into a lot of trouble with him by your side

❋ Your all or nothing attitude was what attracted him the most. To him it was the sort of mindset a sorcerer should have. Give it your all or don't try at all type of thing. Of course though he can only give it his all so many times as well... he doesn't really need to give it his all all of the time (sadly)

❋ You guys commonly planned trips around with the others and he would always go with you on rollercoasters, but once he noticed that you didn't like ones that spun he teased you about it the rest of the day (he'll start to let up if he notices that you're getting really upset over it)

❋ When he noticed he liked you more than as a friend he tried confessing... really he did... but he ended up stuttering and he stopped... Shoko was the one to push him to actually do it. She couldn't stand the pining and needed him to spit it out already

◉‿◉

❋ He never thinks you're rude, he may jokingly say things like "you're so mean to me!" and things along those lines but he never actually means it. He just likes teasing you

❋ You're a yapper you say? Well I hope you can keep up with him, you two talk for literal hours on end and can go for a whole day if not days. Satoru doesn't really sleep so he's always up for chatter. Also Yaga had to get at you two multiple times for talking... yeah you're both on opposite sides of the room, and it's even better because there's only four people in the class!

❋ Whenever you say a random or 'useless' fact he always gets so excited by it, and if not a little confused and will always wonder where it was that you heard that or if you know if its true or not. He'll ask you a TON of questions on it and etc.

❋ He probably leans on you, you're a lot shorter than him and he just finds it funny. Don't worry though, if you step on his toes aggressively he'll stop <3

[tales-of-wocdes]

Ive been reading through your ask for a while now because I just cant get enough of this story and these snippets are just so good.

It is remarkable how you can make me cry just from a little sad snippet.

(I really wish Tumblr had a filter option for liked comments because it does take a while to scroll down by now (or maybe there is and I didnt found it yet))

Reading the asks, I got so many new headcanons and I really cant wait for the story to procress (but please take your time).

One thing I like to imagine is a MC that is confused and scared of touch/intimacy (in a hugging/cuddeling sense) but really craving it.

Like he doesnt trust Havard or Lexia but he wants to, especially after seeing the Twins with Sandor and Aleesia. He just cant get himself to trust them and ask for that hug he wants (tbh, he wants to cuddle and never let go again).

There are also a lot of other things I like to imagine because this story now lives rent-free in my head. Wish also means I can imagine Havard and Lexia comforting me when I am down, which helps surprisingly well.

Thank you so much for writing this story and these snippets. That must be a lot of work that you do in your freetime and I just wanted to tell you, I appreciate it very much.

That you for sharing your thoughts and liking the story!! I hope everything is well with you.

I feel like of the hugging snippets, Havard has more (I could be wrong), but let's do a Lexia snippet below:

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

You don't get it, you think as you see Alessa and Sandor carry the twins away after your playtime. Azha and Atru seem so content to be carried... Well Azha does. Atru looks the same he always does, yet his hands are around Alessa neck.

The twins are really brave, letting themselves be touched and carried like that. You don't let anyone touch you. Like right now, Lexia smiles at you and offers you a hand.

"Wanna hold hands as we walk, kid?" She asks, tilting her head.

You are curios and peer at her hand.... Then run away, and stare at her from behind a tree.

Her smile does not drop at the rejection. "You don't have to. Just wanted to tell you, the option is there." She says, and starts walking towards your room.

It is something that happens often enough these days. You follow after her at a distance. Her hand is right there, swaying by her side. It would not be hard to catch up to her. To grab her hand....

Yet, you are afraid. Of hands holding you still while they carve into you. Then again... the bad people never offered you a choice. Lexia and Havard though... it's complicated, but it feels different. There are rules. Like bedtime, and bath-time. Like after you figured out there are options for food, you get to choose some of what you eat. Not everything, apparently eating only cookies is not acceptable. Or your clothes. You have to wear clothes, that is a rule, but you are asked what you want to wear.

This option to hold hands... it is a scary one. You want it... yet you fear it. You wonder what it would be like to be carried like the twins were. Or maybe even just holding her hand.

As you walk after her, you think hard. She did promise to protect you... She swore an oath, and your internal sense tells you oaths are important... but also warns you they can be broken.

You gather your courage... and dash forwards and poke her hand. She stops and looks at you as you dash back from her, just in case.

She extends her hand to you again. "Did you wanna hold it, kid?" She is smiling at you, just like she always does. Her smile makes you feel very odd.

You slowly get closer, reaching out your own bandaged hand... and dash back again.

She just smiles and waits.

It takes a few tries. The first time your fingers actually touch hers, you flee again. Once it becomes apparent she is not suddenly grabbing you, you poke her hand for a while.

It is a hand. There are odd hard patches, sort of like scars but not really... Calluses. You think they are called calluses. You wonder how one gets those...

Without even noticing, you walk to your room with Lexia, holding hands.

It might not seem like much, but it is a big step for you.

[captain-clandestiny]

made it another year.

a bit of a personal comic, but just some feelings i wanted to get out.

I've... been kind of lost lately. I'm far from abandoning the development of Bluesleeves and the other stories i've been managing on the side, yet i just cant find it within me to create actual art lately. Something im proud of, not just a doodle or scribble or joke. And as i celebrate another year of life, it gets heavy. The guilt of inaction weighs more on my head and my heart with every day that goes by. But... I cant change.

Thats not to say i havent tried. God, ive tried more times than i can count. Ive tried more things than i can remember. Nothing works.

Or... nothing has worked.

And im starting to realize thats the key. Not some trainer on my ass, or another bummy improvement app. But hope. Hope, when kindled right, feeds to so many other things. Resilience, in the hope that things will improve. Discipline, in the hope that it'll all pay off. Sociability, in the hope to make some friends. Kindness, in the hope it can help.

But hope can lead you down darker paths too. Hope, burning bright, is ambition. But ambition, overwhelming, can turn to desire. And i let my hope get ahead of me. Looking at everyone else in this insane online world, my hope was changed. I began with a hope to create a story. Which turned into an ambition to amass an audience to love it as much as i did. And, as expected, kept evolving into a monster of jealousy, inferiority, and doubt.

Why can't I reach heights like them? Is mine not good enough? They have it all- why can't I just do what they did? Why won't it work?? How do I get them to listen? Something I'm doing wrong? Maybe I'm the problem? What if this is where it ends? Did I peak here? Did I do something wrong? Does this really matter???

It goes on and on. A monster, really. And when your passion project becomes an objective- a chore, is it really still from the heart?

...

this birthday has made me realize that i've gone down a wrong path. I got distracted, turned around, and now lost. but coming to that question- if any of it really matters, its never me that answers. rather. its my creations. why would they be here if it was all indifferent? why go through the labor that is constructing a story if it never meant anything? the sleepless nights of storyboards, countless sketch pages with a thousand portraits of one character? obligation does not drive that kind of devotion.

so for the first time in a while i looked inside my head for the answer. ignored the demon, the likes and ratios, and focused on this mysterious force instead. and there it was.

all of this was for hope.

my hope.

that my dreams would become real. my visions realized. and most of all, that somehow, it could help someone. anyone. even just one. because all i'd ever wanted was someone to help me. and if i could keep just one more person from growing up like me, that would be worth it all.

the purpose of Bluesleeves was not to attract fame, attention, or money, but to help. To convey a message (more like several, actually), to help people learn, and to make them wonder. entertainment is a powerful way to communicate knowledge, after all.

and while i can spend my birthday with this burden, wallowing in guilt over all the time i wasted and my simple misdirection, that wouldn't accomplish much. What matters is that i found my hope again. inevitably, i'll lose track again, and ill be lost once more. but what matters is that i dont stay there. that i keep moving. keep falling, but lifting my chin after every stumble.

this sounds sappy and awful, and honestly im losing my train of thought now, but i just needed to express this. for me. from me, to you. this is what ive been dealing with, and im sorry i havent been so active lately. it may be a while, but i promise you, im going to make it happen. i just need a stable mind before i keep up a stable posting schedule, haha.

some of this may help other people struggling similarly, or just be complete gibberish, i dont know!! because im sure not going back to read allat!! thank you, YOU, for reading this far. or if you skipped ahead down here, um, hi i guess.

thank you, every single one of you for your love and support. At the end of the day, no matter how hard, it still seems so impossible knowing that i've reached some of you with my stories. so out of this world that i could make you laugh, cry, smile... that i could make you feel. and that very impossibility means more than you could ever know 🫶

[sirowsky-stories]

Isolated Incident

My goodness it's been a minute! Hello, tumblr, wonderful to see you again 🤗

Description: When a hike doesn't go quite as planned you're forced to seek shelter for the night, only the little cabin isn't empty when you reach it.

Warnings: Marcus Pike x Female Reader, reader is defined as female but has no physical descriptions at all, mention of the bear vs. man thing, smut, minor angst.

Author's Note: This is something of a request from my good friend @bilibiche although I've altered the setting from winter to autumn because it just came easier to me right now, oddly enough. Sorry for the delay, and I hope you like it, love!

Word Count: 4720 Author's Masterlist Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Wednesday 12:38 PM

   ”Can I ask you a serious question?” one of your newer colleagues wonders while you’re having lunch together.

   “I thought all your questions were serious…” you say with a critically raised brow, because this particular guy is of the less than goofy sort, and it bothers you how it feels like he’s labelled you as flimsy, or lax, just because you approve of a little light-hearted fun now and then.

   “Well, yeah, but like serious as in; life or death.”

   “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but sure, ask away.”

   “Okay. Why would you risk your life just to walk to the top of a mountain?”

   You can’t help but smile a little at his apparent lack of insight into how the world works, but you soon turn serious again since it’s not really a fun topic.

   “I hike because the woods are peaceful and make me feel strong and at ease with myself. And if some wild animal does decide to try and eat me, I actually have a much better chance of scaring off a bear or puma, than a man.”

   He looks slightly confused by that.

   “Sure, but… the leading cause of death for female hikers worldwide is drowning or falling, not encountering either men or animals.”

   “And the leading cause of death for women worldwide is cardiovascular disease, but you don’t see us leading healthier lives just because we know that,” you counter, and he tilts his head with curious interest.

   “So, you equate the risk of hiking to the risk of dropping dead from an unknown disease?”

   Instead of trying to explain to him that you never actually weigh the dangers of anything you do, since that would just put you off of doing anything, ever, you decide to give him a comparison he might understand.

   “I look at it this way: When going to a club, or on a date, is even more dangerous to my overall health than being alone in the woods, why shouldn’t I walk to the top of a mountain?”

Thursday 07:41 AM

   The drive was long, especially when you’d decided to get started before dawn to get the most out of the daylight hours, but now that you’re on the trail, the fatigue has vanished and not even the light drizzle and grey skies are able to dampen your mood.    You’ve only walked this trail once before, and you’re planning on exploring a different section of it this time, which is supposedly a bit more challenging as you get closer to the top, so it somehow feels like the mountain is still completely new to you.

   In terms of height, the mountain is a small one, only about a thousand feet, but the base of it stretches for about ten miles in every direction, making it massive all the same. And the view from the peak is amazing since nothing else in the area comes close to the same height.    It boasts impressive cliffs where erosion and the occasional earthquake has cracked the stone and generated immense landslides, and since rain is pretty consistent around here, some of those cliffs have become breathtaking waterfalls.

   The woodlands are thousands of years old, untouched save for the narrow trail which is kept clear by the many hundreds of feet which tread on it every year. It’s illegal to cut down trees or start fires, or just do anything which negatively impacts the natural state of the forest, like leave garbage or dig any hole bigger than what might be needed to bury your natural waste.

   And to help people keep to these rules, a volunteer group has built little cabins on regular intervals along the trails, where hikers can take shelter in case of bad weather or if they get injured.    Each cabin has basic survival equipment like chopped wood and lighting tools, jugs of fresh water, first aid kits, candles and blankets. And there’s a wood-burning stove in all of them.    You’ve never needed to use one, but you’ve familiarized yourself with them anyway.

Thursday 11:24 AM

   The weather improves all through the morning, first with the stopping of the rain and then gradually becoming less cloudy, until the entire sky is suddenly bright blue above you, just in time for your lunch-stop.    You’ve gotten high enough by now that the trees are much fewer and further apart, and there are large sections of bared rock in between, some of them chiselled smooth by millennia of rainfall and snow, and others covered in soft moss.

   You don’t stay for long, both to avoid getting chilled by the autumn air, but also because your timeframe is limited. It takes roughly six hours to get to the top, and then between five and six hours back down, depending on how slippery it is, and that’s about as much daylight as there is for the time of year, so there isn’t much left over for you to sit around. Not if you wanna avoid having to stay the night.

   There’s a sleeping bag designed for arctic survival in the bottom of your backpack, and protein bars as emergency food if you should need it, so you are prepared to spend the night on the mountain if it becomes necessary, but you’d prefer not to.    Which is why, just as you reach the top and notice another shift in the weather, you start to feel a bit anxious.    You take a few pictures up there and give yourself a moment to just sit and catch your breath, but the looming black clouds on the horizon won’t let you fully relax.

   It looks incredibly dramatic, the contrast of the soft-looking woodlands with their colourful fall leaves against the dark pine needles, all caressed by bright midday sunlight, against the darkness of the incoming storm and the shadow it casts over the landscape further to the east.    That weather system is going to swallow up the sun soon, and if it lingers, which it looks like it probably will just going by the size of it, you’re not gonna have another six hours of daylight. You might not even have half that.

Thursday 16:18 PM

   The rain comes down so hard that even your baseball cap isn’t enough to let you have full vision in front of you, and although it isn’t fully dark yet, your flashlight is your only hope of seeing where the hell you’re putting your feet, not to mention where the trail is.    You’d hoped to make it down to where you’d parked your car, but it’s taken you twice as long to walk down as it did going up, so you still have at least four hours left, and it’ll be pitch black and way too dangerous to keep moving long before then.    So, when you reach the next cabin, you decide to call it a day.

   But as you approach the unassuming little wooden structure, you can see faint lights through the one small window in the door.    There’s no electricity out here, so it’s not like someone could’ve accidentally left the lights on when they left, unless a hiker forgot to blow out a candle, which seems unlikely. Even the rookies on this trail know better than to jeopardize their own or someone else’s chances of survival by burning down a cabin.

   So, in conclusion, there’s another hiker here, and you haven’t seen a soul along the trails so you have no idea who this person might be. But you also can’t keep going to the next one, because it’s more than an hour’s walk away.    Suddenly your conversation with George pops up in your head again, and you find yourself weighing the risk of sleeping in a cabin with a stranger, compared to the risk of walking in the pouring rain in complete darkness on a trail you’re not really familiar with.

   “Shit…” you mutter to yourself, before slowly approaching the cabin.

   You knock on the door, since it seems rude to just walk in, even though whoever’s occupying the tiny house doesn’t have any more of a claim to it than you do.    It takes a few seconds, during which you don’t hear anything at all from inside, until the door swings inward and a tall man comes into view before you.    He’s wearing wool underclothing, the figure-hugging kind designed to keep people warm and dry closest to the skin to prevent hypothermia, so he’s probably not a rookie.

   “Hi,” you half-shout over the thunder of the rain, thinking you probably look like a drenched cat, while this guy looks more like a movie star than anyone you’ve ever met.

   “Hi. Come on in,” he offers with a smile, and you only hesitate for a second because this man’s smile is as disarming as a cat’s purr.

   “Thank you.”

   Once inside you take off your pack and then get started on your soaked outer layer of clothing, while he politely closes the door for you and then moves over to the stove where he’s apparently in the middle of boiling some water.

   “That’s some monsoon level rain,” he chats while he works. “How long have you been out there?”

   “Yeah. Uh, since 7:30 this morning. I could tell from the peak that it was gonna come in fast, so I tried to keep up the pace, but the trail was still wet from the morning drizzle.”

   “I came from the south trail and there was a lot of fog down there this morning, so I decided to wait and get a later start, but then I got stuck in this instead. It wasn’t on any of the forecasts, as far as I know.”

   “No, it wasn’t. I chose this week specifically because the worst of the autumn rains have hit two weeks later for the past five years,” you share, since he’s being very kind and keeping his eyes on what he’s doing while you strip down to your underwear and then put on a dry set of underclothes, almost identical to his.

   “Same. I’ve been coming here around this time every year for almost a decade now.”

   “If you came from the south and you decided to stop here you must be doing the circle trail, right?” you ask, curious now that you’ve begun to feel comfortable around him.

   There are three trails that lead from the bottom to the top of the mountain from three different directions, each one difficult in its own way, from steepness, to long stretches where the trail is impossible to see, to marshlands and tricky seas of rounded boulders that like to shift under your feet.    But the circle trail takes you along all of them while also bringing you around the entire base of the mountain. It’s the hardest one and it takes a minimum of three days to complete.

   “That’s right. Is this your first time here?” he wonders while you take your sleeping bag out of your pack and use it as a cushion when you take a seat closer to the stove, facing him.

   “Second, but I love this mountain.”

   “You’re not a rookie, though,” he observes. “You’ve got all the right gear. I noticed the bear spray on your shoulder strap, and the stiletto on the other one.”

   “Honestly, I carry those mostly in case I need to protect myself from people,” you admit, to which he smiles again.

   “I figured. And you’re right to do so.    I know you don’t really have any reason to believe me, but I promise you won’t get any trouble from me.”

   You just nod in return, and he refocuses on the stove, where his water is now steaming hot, so he pours it into a thermos and then reaches for his wood-carved cup and what looks like a packet of dehydrated soup.

   “You want one?” he asks when he sees you looking at the cup.

   Initially, you’re about to decline because you have your own emergency food with you and he clearly has a long way to go before he’s leaving the mountain, so you should let him keep his nutrition.    But you don’t have anything you can heat up with you, except for plain water, and while you’re not exactly cold, the prospect of warm soup after a long day of walking sounds too good to pass up.

   “Do you have enough to spare?”

   “Don’t worry about it, I’m ex-military, I know how to stay alive even if I run out of food,” he offers, and then just hands you a packet. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

   You give him your name after thanking him for the soup, but while you dig out your own cup, you decide to let your growing curiosity take over.

   “So, what’s a former military man with good manners doing all alone in the wilderness on a random Thursday afternoon?”

   “That’s possibly the most subtle way anyone’s ever asked me if I’m single,” he chuckles, and the humour brings a playful glimmer to his eyes.

   “Don’t forget the subtle hint to unemployment as well,” you smile in return while stirring the soup, and a warm laughter rocks him back a little where he sits.

   “That’s right. You’re good, I like it.    Well, I’m actually really crap at taking vacations, so my boss has made it a tradition to kick me out of the office around this time of year. And since I don’t know how to exist without a purpose, I spend that time out here, which should tell you everything you might wanna know about my relationship status, reminding myself how big the world is and how easily it can crush me.”

   “Wow, you’re just a big bag of sunshine, aren’t you…” You say it with a smile, but the ironic tone is unmistakeable. Still, he just chuckles again.

   “Alright, look, I know it sounds kinda negative, but it’s really the opposite. I’ve been in wars, seen people’s lives be destroyed by hurricanes, pulled animals out of mudslides, dug skiers out of avalanches. I’ve seen survival where it should’ve been impossible, so when I come out here, it reminds me that no matter how bad a situation I might find myself in, there’s always hope.    Knowing I’m small and fragile doesn’t make me feel any less alive. It makes me feel like every step is a victory.”

   Having no words to offer in return to something so unexpectedly profound, you end up just staring at him, suddenly wanting to know absolutely everything about this man.

   “And the good manners I got from my mother,” he finishes with a wink, making you laugh.

Thursday 22:19 PM

   You spent the entire evening talking and getting to know each other, but eventually your curiosity gave way to fatigue, forcing you to accept that no matter how interesting this man is, you’ll have to part ways in the morning, so you might as well get some rest.    Learning that he’s an FBI-agent was a bit of a shock, since he looks like he belongs in Hollywood, but it’s done nothing to dull your attraction to him. And you are attracted to him. Way too much for someone you just met.

   The rain is still hammering the metal roof and the fire crackles in the stove as you try and create a comfortable sleeping place with nothing but the blankets as mattrasses on the wood floor, although the padding of your respective sleeping bags helps a bit.

   “I love the sound of the rain,” he quietly ponders after you’ve both settled in.

   “It’s like it harmonizes with the background noise of your mind and creates a melody only you can hear,” you chime in, and hear him turn his head towards you.

   You’re both on your backs right next to each other, so you turn your head as well, meeting his brown eyes, turned black by the darkness of the cabin now that you’re no longer by the fire.

   “Exactly,” he whispers, and a peculiar look sneaks into the frame of his features.

   Something you can’t name but somehow know in your soul all the same. And the longer you meet his gaze, the clearer that expression becomes.    Until you realize that his response isn’t just referring to the rain, but to the harmony that each of you have instilled in the other, by just existing in the same space.    He’s telling you that he feels it too. How the two of you just… fit.

   So, with a nervous inhale setting a thousand butterflies lose in your stomach, you roll onto your side and gently press your lips to his, silently begging him not to pull away, not to reject you when you’re taking a chance. Pouring all your hope into the perception you’ve created of him as a good man. A man worth that chance, even if just for tonight.    He meets your lips with soft desire, the most welcoming sensation anyone can offer, and you let all guards and barriers fall.

   The sleeping bags are rearranged to accommodate you both together, then the clothes are discarded without hurry or fanfare, because this isn’t two people merely wanting a release, but seeking a connection.    He settles down on top of you and you pull his sleeping bag over his back, then you lay there just looking at each other while your bodies warm one another.

   “Of all the things I imagined might happen on this hike, this wasn’t one of them,” he whispers, and at first you think he’s just being sweet, but then he continues. “Which is my way of saying I don’t have any protection with me.”

   Surprised that he’s even thought of it, you need a few seconds to decide how to respond.

   “Same. But I still want to.”

   He nods in agreement, letting his fingers trace your jawline.

   “Would you trust me to pull out?”

   You hold his gaze for a long moment, seeking any kind of crack in his gentlemanly character, and when you can’t find it, you have your answer.

   “Yes.”

   The next kiss is deeper, filled with craving and lust but still so warm and harmonious. You’re both still seeking connection, figuring out how to fit together entirely without tension, and it isn’t until you feel yourselves relax into one another that he finally unites your bodies.    He pushes himself inside and you both seem to enter a new dimension in your shared pleasure, somehow knowing what the other feels without words.

   You settle your hands on his lower back, letting one slowly slide up to the nape of his neck, making him shiver, and he scrapes his teeth against your shoulder in return, generating the same response in you.    His hips are firm but rolling with each push to give you more friction, and every time you shift yourself to alter the angle between you, he follows your lead, letting you show him what you need.

   And when the pressure builds and the need takes over, you’re already so attuned to each other that it happens organically.    But then, just as you’re about to fall into the rapture, you feel him tense. Holding back, to let you come before he has to pull out, but in doing so, he breaks the harmony.

   “Don’t,” you whisper through strained breaths, tightening your arms around him. “Stay.”

   He doesn’t question it, he wants it just as much as you do, and the moment the tension eases, you’re suddenly falling together, and it’s better than anything you’ve ever experienced before this moment.    Every time his muscles curl, your body responds, and vice versa, until you’re both so drained that your bodies won’t move at all anymore.

Friday 06:11 AM

   The dusky light of dawn wakes you, and Marcus is the first thing you think of.    He’s still there, having only just managed to lift his torso off you before he passed out last night, but his arm is resting heavy over your stomach and his legs are still entwined with yours while he sleeps soundly, nestled against you.    For a few minutes you just watch him sleep, wishing that time would stop today and let you stay here with him, but then he stirs.

   You don’t say anything even when he eventually opens his eyes and smiles at you. You just keep looking at him, and he quickly figures out why.

   “You’ll see me again, honey,” he promises in a husky morning voice, and you want to believe him.

   But life has taught you not to expect you’ll get to keep the amazing. It always seems to come and go according to someone else’s will, never listening to what you want or need.    So, you close your eyes and try to burn the image of him into the backs of your eyelids.    A kiss graces your lips then, and in his touch the promise seems so real.

   “We should pack up,” you hear yourself say, even though that’s the opposite of what you want.

   He lets go of you when you sit up, and a part of you wishes he’d forced you to stay with him, even though that would only prolong the inevitable.    You each pack in silence. There’s no fire this morning, because then one of you would have to stay until it burned out, which means that breakfast is simple and quick.

   “I know what you’re doing,” he says when you’re pulling your pack on, “I’ve done it myself so many times, trying to cut ties before I get hurt, but I’m not gonna let you do it to me.”

   “Marcus… I want to keep you,” you admit once you’ve clipped all the straps into place. “I didn’t even know it was possible to feel this connected to another person, of course I wanna see you again.”

   “Then why are you trying to say goodbye to me?” he understandably wonders, and you sigh deeply, looking for the words.

   “Because connection is hard. Relationships are hard. And I’m soft…    You look at me and you see this strong woman out here all alone, ready to take on anything, but underneath all that, I’m just scared,” you explain, somehow feeling smaller while you watch him quietly absorb and consider his reply.

   “We all are.” He says it so simply, and yet the words sound so heavy.

   Resting your hands against your hips, you lower your gaze to the floor and try to silence your fears for a minute.

   “And what if we work?” you question, watching him as he tries to follow your logic.

   You can see the moment it clicks. The moment he realizes what you’re really saying.    Because in the end, it isn’t this moment that’s going to solve anything.

   “We’ll figure it out.”

   “But that’s the thing… I finally have my life figured out. I finally have the house I’ve scraped and saved for my entire life, the job that makes me happy and lets me live the way I want to, the true friends that I can depend on for anyth-…“

   “And yet, you’re still alone,” he gently cuts you off, and the look in his eyes is so sad it makes your chest tighten. “Because you’re scared. Just like I am.”

   You step out of the cabin without another word, setting a careful pace on the slippery track, still saturated with water even though the rain has stopped, and the sun is about to rise to a mostly clear sky.    He doesn’t have your number, nor do you have his. Walking away means ending this relationship before it’s even begun, but somehow it feels like the easier path. Still, every step taking you closer to your car makes your feet feel a little bit heavier.

   The woods deepen, growing wilder with the lower altitude, until you need to keep your arms up in front of your face to keep the branches from scratching it.    You emerge from the path onto the road exactly where you’d entered it yesterday, and your car is right there waiting for you.    The drive home feels longer than any journey you’ve ever taken.

Friday 10:32 AM

   Your house somehow looks lonelier than before. Even the flowers in your garden seem to have lost some of their colour and the chirping of the birds sounds hollow to your ears.    And all this is because of him. Because for a few hours, you experienced true harmony, and now nothing could ever compare.    Part of you regrets ever meeting him, and another part regrets walking away. But it’s done.

   The rest of the day is endless and too short at the same time, spent in a haze of confusion while you do the laundry, cook, clean up the kitchen, shower and try to watch something on TV. All while Marcus fills every corner of your mind, every second that passes.    When you eventually fall asleep it’s with an anxious restlessness which has you twisting and turning, waking up every thirty minutes, and dreaming strange things in between.

Monday 07:46 AM

   “I thought you said the hikes make you feel better…”

   “Huh?”

   “When I asked you why you’d risk your life to walk up a mountain you said it was because it makes you feel better,” George reminds you at the breakfast break, but you still have no idea why he’s bringing this up.

   “Yeah. What’s your point?”

   “Only that you look more like you’re feeling worse.”

   “Thanks a lot…” you scoff. “It wasn’t a great hike.”

   “How come?”

   “It rained most of the time.”

   “And here I thought all you outdoorsy people didn’t mind rain.”

   “It just wasn’t a great hike, okay,” you snap at him, not at all interested in talking about this with him, or anyone else, for that matter.

   “Alright, I’m sorry I asked.”

   He’s quiet for a while after that, scrolling on his phone like everyone else in the break room. But just a few minutes before your break is over, he suddenly looks up from his device with a very puzzled wrinkle between his brows.

   “Uh, who the fuck is Marcus Pike?”

   You literally drop your own phone onto the table and just stare at your colleague with absolute shock. And when he doesn’t get a response, he glances back down at his phone and then looks back up at you, even more confused.

   “Why is he asking about you? How the hell does he know we work together? How did he even get my number? Who is this guy?”

   “He’s… an FBI-agent,” you finally reply, and George turns a shade paler.

   “Why does an FBI-agent wanna talk to you? And why would he go through me?”

   “My number isn’t that easy to find, I guess he decided to take a shortcut.”

   “Again, why?”

   You’re not remotely interested in sharing the details of your meeting with Marcus with your coworker, so you counter with a question instead.

   “What exactly is he asking?”

   “He just texted me asking if I could pass the phone to the woman sitting across from me. Wait… How does he know where in the room we are?”

   “Because your idea of phone security is sharing your data with absolutely everyone,” you admonish, then snatch the device from his hand.

   The moment you see the message, a call comes through from an unknown number, so you take a breath and then pick up the call before you can change your mind.

   “Hi,” he answers, identical to the way he did when he answered the door at the cabin, and it immediately makes a lovely warmth spread through you.

   “Agent Pike. This is unexpected,” you reply, highly aware that you’re in a room full of people who are all listening.

   “You’re surprisingly hard to find, honey. But once I figured out where you work, your address was a piece of cake,” he confidently announces, and there’s something in his voice that makes you feel like his confidence is about more than a victory over a technical limitation.

   “Where are you, right now?”

   There’s a soft laughter on the other end, and right then, you can hear birds in the background. The same chirps you always hear from the trees around your house.

   “I did promise you’d see me again.”

THE END

@harriedandharassed @pedrostories

[ingravinoveritas]

Earlier this year, a new blog was started here on Tumblr with the aim and intention of harassing a group of fans in the GO fandom. I previously made a post addressing this, as I was the initial target of this blog (whose original handle was a dupe of my own Tumblr handle).

I had hoped not to have a reason to revisit this particular subject, but given recent disturbing comments made by both this blog and its followers, and a post written by @nightgoodomens describing the situation from their perspective, I feel compelled to make a post of my own, to talk about what I have experienced and continue to experience at the hands of these individuals.

By now, some of you may be familiar with the blog in question. In my prior post, I did not mention this blog's name publicly, and I have no intention of doing so at this time, either. Yet I think it's important to be clear about what this blog's specific intentions were, which were made evident by its original creator on Twitter at the end of May:

It was only a few days after writing this tweet that the author did exactly this, and created this main blog. I feel that this has somehow become obscured over time, as given the negative response that this blog's initial posts engendered, the original creator apparently retired from the blog and gave the reins to someone else, and the blog's focus soon pivoted to defending Georgia and Anna. Prior to this, however, the blog began publishing Anons attacking me, including one that seemed to be threatening to doxx me:

What particularly perplexed me was seeing a gradual distortion of my own words and writing here on Tumblr, as well as people buying into it so readily. I also noticed one particular blog that became friendly with this main blog--they've changed handles a number of times, but at the time they were known as michaelsheendaily (then michaelsheensource, then thesheenantbergs). For months prior, they talked specifically about how awful the things I/others were saying about Georgia and Anna, and then seemingly joined forces with this main blog.

…Yet one year ago this very month, that same person (michaelsheendaily/thesheenantbergs) felt similarly to many of us and had sent me an Ask wanting to know if I thought Anna was being abusive to Michael. This Ask was sent from their (at the time, now deleted) main blog, but they helpfully DMed me from michaelsheendaily to make sure I had seen their question:

I answered this question (as I try to do with every Ask/Anon I get) straightforwardly and honestly, and firmly said "No" in response, as well as how serious it is to accuse someone of abuse, and that it is not up to any of us to try and break up a relationship, as Michael has people he can turn to if he needs to do so. I have also previously defended Georgia on my blog (and provided rationales and examples for why my perspective has gradually shifted over time), but it seems that the people harassing me have conveniently chosen to ignore all of this/have never looked at my blog beyond a cursory glance.

As this main blog continued its posting, and despite having Anons turned off, I began to receive a number of hateful Asks, which culminated with another blog suddenly coming into being about a month after these initial incidents. This blog claimed to be Michael Sheen (using a handle of his from Facebook), and published this despicably homophobic and noticeably un-Michael-like post:

The aforementioned main blog immediately drew attention to this post, and claimed that they had "proof" of this being the real Michael:

It soon became apparent that this blog was a fake, and despite its prior insistence that it could possibly be him, the main blog backtracked quickly as more people pointed out how obviously this was not Michael. Yet even the notion that someone would think this was acceptable--to pretend to be Michael, to (poorly) attempt an approximation of his writing style, all for the sake of attacking one person, and despite the fact that we know Michael already has a Tumblr that he hasn’t posted on in years--is just absurd beyond words.

But clearly this ill-conceived post inspired others, as only a week after this post appeared (and subsequently disappeared, along with the blog itself), I received an Ask from yet another recently-created blog of someone claiming to know Michael personally, saying that he would "destroy" me:

Which brings me to the present day, and how these themes have presented themselves yet again, in an even more unpleasant fashion.

Over the last four months, this main blog and its followers have continued to obsessively read my blog (despite how very easy it would be to simply block me) and screenshotted my posts in order to add their own vile commentary. I have not wanted to draw attention to any of this, but one particular instance has now made me change my mind.

I've recently talked on my blog about my upcoming trip to London, where I will be seeing David in Macbeth. A few days ago, it was brought to my attention that the main blog screenshotted one of my posts--which was a reblog of a video of David with Jodie Whittaker--along with my tags talking about the way David was sitting. One of the blog's followers commented this in response, and subsequently received a reply from the OP:

The "daggers" commenter currently runs several blogs dedicated to worshiping/defending Georgia and Anna (at least one of which is run in tandem with the original creator of the main blog). Numerous accusations have been levied at me and others from these blogs, one of the most outrageous of which is homophobia...yet this is their response to me simply saying David might not be 100% straight, and which eerily echoes the tone of the post from "Michael" three months ago. And while there are a lot of things about the last few months that have rankled me, nothing does so more than the hypocrisy I have witnessed, such as this.

The thing is, though, that when I saw these comments, all I could honestly think of was how sad I felt.

Because here I am, just days away from going on my trip--a trip I have been so anxiously awaiting, that is my first non-work trip in a very, very long time--and now the thought of, "Could someone try to attack me?" has crossed my mind. Yet my sadness is less for myself and more for the person who thinks it is acceptable to wish or even encourage violence against another human being. My sadness is that this person feels so unsafe or discontent in their own life--a feeling I know all too well--that their chosen course of action is to make someone else feel unsafe. To assuage their own sense of powerlessness by going after someone they perceive as having power.

My sadness is at these people being so sure that the celebrities they are a fan of would agree with them, yet needing/wanting those people to act in a way that aligns with who they want Michael and David to be, rather than who they actually are. I know that the Michael and David I became a fan of are two of the kindest, most intelligent, warmest men you could imagine, and that there is no part of me that wants or needs them to scream at or dislike the same people I do for the sake of my own self-serving purposes.

To that end, I have also been distressed by the apparent frenzy that was recently generated in the form of a "rallying cry" against myself and others in this group of fans facing ongoing harassment. But what I've tended to see as a response to said frenzy is some variation of, "People are saying these terrible things. I haven't actually seen any of these posts/comments, but it must be terrible, so I'll block this person/people." I am no stranger to fandom chatter/gossip, but every time I hear something, my first impulse is always to find the receipts. To learn more information what is being claimed so that I can make up my own mind. And that is the very same ethos I have espoused on my blog for years, because I would much rather people think for themselves than "fall in line" because they are being told to do so/threatened with being "cancelled" if they don't.

So if you want to find out something about my opinions or takes, it is all here on my blog. Everything going back five years since I joined the GO fandom, tagged and catalogued. I have not privated anything or deleted anything, nor do I have multiple blogs or side blogs--just this one. And if after reading what I actually have to say you still want to block me, you are certainly welcome to do so. I would just much rather you block me because of the truth, not because of someone else's personal vendetta and agenda.

To say that dealing with all of this for months on end has been surreal and stressful is a profound understatement. Especially because I have never once engaged with this blog, never replied to any posts of theirs, nor sent them an Anon or made threats of any kind (despite receiving numerous threats myself). Nor have I replied to the multiple incendiary Asks and DMs I have repeatedly received from the blog's original creator.

Again, I have not wanted to draw any further attention to these people, but the staggering awfulness of the most recent comments finally made me feel that enough is enough. I truly shudder to think what the response would be if someone made a similarly threatening comment toward these individuals...yet it's somehow completely fine to say these things about me. To make me and others into the "villain" that you need us to be to justify saying these heinous things in the first place. And while these individuals and anyone else are free to dislike me and to express their dislike in a public forum to their heart's content, that freedom of expression ends where my right to not feel that my personal safety is in jeopardy begins. A line that should never have been crossed has been crossed, and we as a fandom and as human beings are much the worse off for it.

No one should ever have to feel this way. Not even these people. And by talking about all of this and bringing these incidents into the light, my hope is that no one else ever will.

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[melverie]

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again

[adore-gregor]

🤞

[parakeetpark]

Uh oh. Essay in readmore time

What's so frustrating is that for almost all of my life I didn't know I had adhd, and only found it out 5ish years ago

During ALL of my studies i was intensely freaked out and even when i got a grip on some of my mental health shit at uni, importantly I was still unaware of the adhd. And only had some professional tell me about their suspicion about it AFTER I could have received any support in my schooling.

And I have been working damn hard over the last half a decade to learn about myself and the way I work, and be kind to myself and open minded, and learnt from many many different people with adhd how they function - especially through advice on here bc much of Google is shit, and learnt what does and doesn't work for my personally.

I slowly unravelled and found myself. To a point where I'm actually functional and content in myself.

So now i find myself in the most intense, stressful period of my life since then. Grieving and finally understanding what people meant when they spoke about grieving a very close loved one. How nothing feels real even.

And I've found myself so extremely wired from having to do a very vast array of tasks all crammed into a short space of time with a close deadline - exactly the same conditions as during my studies.......... where nothing ever helped.

Yet. In the last thirty minutes I've unwound because I instinctively KNEW what to do. I found myself following all the things i taught myself about my adhd, and now I'm like 70% more chill???? Huh?????? Noticed suddenly that I've been using my ADHD self knowledge for the past few weeks and coped remarkably well because of it.

It's shocking because imagine what i could have done if I had ANY help with my adhd EVER in my life from the adults who were supposed to notice in my entire childhood. Like HUHHHHHH, I am shocked. Imagine how I'm here as an adult using 5 years of learning adhd related advice and stuff I learnt through self awareness .... and feeling better.

SHOCKING!!!!

PS - long ass tags that immediately ramble away from my initial post and go into something positive and that made me feel fluffy inside. You've been warned