#they should not be as onboard with it as they are

[myautisticpov]

This is important, but it's also important if you're part of a volunteer group to make sure that information necessary for disabled people to get involved isn't hidden behind an extra step, like calling someone

If you're posting about a meet-up*, you should not be just posting the time and location, you should also be posting about car parking availability, about the nearest bus stop, about exactly how to find the exact location (e.g. which entrance into the building to use and the directions to the room you're in), about wheelchair accessibility, about where the nearest toilets are (and if there's a proper disabled stall), about how long you expect the meet-up to take and if it's acceptable to leave early, about whether food will be provided or if it's banned if they want to bring snacks (or if they have an allergy and might be worried about other people bringing snacks), and about what exactly will be expected of the people attending

If you're posting about needing volunteers, you should be posting exactly what work you need help with and exactly how much or how little people will be expected to participate

You should be using accessible language, you should be providing image descriptions of digital posters, you should be providing subtitles/transcripts of videos

Some of this stuff doesn't just help disabled people, it helps parents who need to find childcare (and speaking of, whether or not it's appropriate for children to attend is also important) or people with unreliable jobs or transport

You should also have a robust and accessible onboarding process to help new people figure out how best to help

Like, I know that it's work, but the easier you can make taking the first step for people, the more people you'll have to help with the work

Don't put this all on disabled people to bridge the accessibility gap

*And obviously, if you're not posting about meet-ups because the work is sensitive, then obviously this doesn't apply, I'm only talking about the groups where this does, because putting a fucking phone call in the way isn't going to stop people who are being paid to keep an eye on you, it will just stop everyone else

I rambled about this in tags on another post but I can’t emphasize enough how only focusing on large-scale issues WILL lead to hopelessness & burnout. Activism must include small-scale, achievable works. If you don’t have something you can get your hands around and look at directly, despair will eat you alive.

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Dan: They only onboarded me today and I have orientation tomorrow. Hopefully I get to meet some of the animals.

Ares: Oh so that’s why you have those goofy shoes, I thought you were leading the girl scouts for a second.

Dan: You’re buggin! Frances said they were cute.

Ares: It’s not a bad look, it makes me feel like we’re going on an adventure.

Dan: I bought you a boba and this is how you treat me?!

Ares: [ snickers ] Where are we going, captain?

Dan: I hate everything.

Ares: Ok, ok! You’re right I shouldn’t treat sugar mamas like that.

Dan: Ares! Shut up!

Ares: [ whispers ] I think the whole store is looking at us.

Dan: And?? Let them look. 

Ares: Wait, wait, make sure my hair looks good.

Dan:  You’re so…

Ares: Well?

Dan: It looks fine. 

Ares: I am proud of you by the way.

Dan: Really?

Ares: Yeah! It’s cool, graduation’s around the corner and you have this sick job to look forward to.

Dan: Oh! Neat.

Ares: Did I say something wrong?

Dan: Not at all, I guess I want to feel the same excitement as my friends do. 

Ares: Ah, I see. Well, you know it’s alright to feel that way, right?

Dan: I know. Walk me to the train?

Ares: [ nods ]

-

Dan: My mom would project all of her dreams onto me. So success doesn’t ever seem real to me. Like there’s always some sort of ladder to climb.

Ares: You ever think you haven’t found the right one? 

Dan: I do but then again I worry if anything truly is satisfying enough to try.

Ares: Then maybe that’s the issue.

Dan: What is?

Ares: We’re too busy measuring things by success rather than happiness.

Dan: Ahh, I see the vision. 

Ares: Maybe take this step as the thing that’ll allow you to build a future you want. Like a platform. 

Dan: I guess I’ve been under the impression that a career was the end goal not the foundation.

Ares: Felt that.

Dan: Yeah right.

Ares: Dan, I don’t know what I want to be. There’s music, photography, going back to school. I feel like I’ve spent more time trying to pick something than actually doing it. You have something to work off of.

Dan: So do you. Plenty of things. 

Dan: Look, you should listen to your advice as well. There’s a lot of good stuff in there. 

Ares: Hey, don’t move.

Dan: Noo. I hate having my picture taken.

Ares: Then act like I’m not here.

Dan: That literally changes nothing.

Ares: Oke I’m taking it now.

Dan: Ugh.

Ares: Shit. You might’ve blinked.

Dan: Seriously?!

Ares: [ laughs ] No. Not at all.

Dan: This dude. 

Ares: You should catch your train now.

Dan: That would be smart. 

Dan: Ares?

Ares: Yes?

Dan: You’re a pretty cool guy.

Ares: Ah. Nice, nice.

Dan: Awkward as fuck too.

Ares: PFFT I’m leaving now.

Dan: Bye.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Try, Try, and Try Again

Steven Grant x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: Steven's always willing to try anything.

A/N: For @ingoldthewizard amazing idea of Troubleshooting but with Steven <3

Warnings: reader who has trouble orgasming by just penetration alone, overstimulation, oral sex mentioned, p in v sex, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 936

Steven moans sweetly, his eyes screwed up tight as he moves, focusing all his energy on the shallow thrusts of his hips. 

“You,” he swallows, his voice strained, “You okay, love?” 

You nod, your hands gripping the bedsheets under you. He opens his eyes a crack to look at your face, to check you’re okay.

Sweat covers your skin as you both rock and move against each other in an agonisingly slow rhythm. 

He’s right above you, one hand on your leg, the other on the headboard as he keeps you folded into a mating press, your knees hooked over his shoulders. He’d stacked pillows under your lower back before you’d started, before he’d made you scream and sob and come so hard against his mouth.

Your body burns, begs for extra stimulation as he moves within you. He doesn’t push in completely, just rubs the head of his cock along your spongy walls, repeatedly rocking against the spot inside that should theoretically line up with your clit. 

Steven had been methodical in his research, making lists of positions and toys that could hypothetically help you to come from just penetration alone. He’d had to stop a few times while on his ‘fact finding mission’, getting a little too hot under the collar thinking about being inside you. Most of these ‘breaks’ end up with you bouncing on his lap at his desk. 

It had been you who had brought it up to begin with, and Steven had been more than onboard once he was sure this was just something you were interested in and nothing to do with thinking negatively about yourself.

“You know I don’t care right, love? I don’t care that you need to be touched here,” he’d muttered in your ear, pulling you into his lap and snaking his hand down to rub at your clit over your clothes. “I love touching here. Love it. I just want you to feel good.” 

You’d nuzzled into his cheek before letting him tilt your head and lick greedily into your mouth. “I know Steven, I just… want to try.” You’d said, a little shyly. 

He’d smiled. “We can try. Anything for you. Especially, when I get to fuck you silly.” 

You’d laughed at the over the top expression he’d pulled while wiggling his eyebrows. 

Steven groans, the cords of muscle in his neck sticking out under the strain of holding himself back. “You’re so wet.” He gasps as he sinks a little deeper, quickly bites his lip as he mentally chastises himself before going back to the same motion. 

You whimper in response, it feels good, too good. You’re drawn so tight and on the edge of pleasure, if only you could just fall into it. Your clit throbs, crying out for the smallest stimulation that you know just isn’t coming. 

Steven grits his teeth as you clench around him, your walls trying to suck him deeper. He gasps with every stroke, the pressure on the tip of his cock making him lightheaded, the sounds of your wetness driving him mad. He so badly wants to give in, to play with your bundle of nerves so you’ll squirm and come so hard on his length. He wants to see your face as you fall into pleasure, he wants to hear your sweet, desperate moans. He needs it more than breathing. 

But he holds himself back. Keeps up that same repetition. 

You wriggle under him, the push of his thick cock is driving you out of your mind. You trust up to meet him a little harshly, trying to get him deeper as best you can. 

He moans again loudly, “Ah, love,” his hips stutter, his stomach muscles clenching as he manages to just stop from slipping further in. “Stop, you’re gonna make me…” he swallows thickly, “I won’t be able to stop.” 

“Please,” You sob, tears in the corners of your eyes and the anguish in your voice breaks his heart. “I need, I need it, please, I need to come, I can’t-” You cry out as Steven quickly moves his hand from your leg to rub soft circles on your clit as he thrusts his hips at the exact same moment. 

Your back aches as much as it can in your position and you throw your head back, whimpered ‘thank yous’ falling from your lips like a prayer. 

He sinks in quickly, groaning in relief as he rocks, sliding his thick length in and out of you in time with the circle of his fingers. 

“You did such a good job, love, so good, you’re so wonderful. It’s okay,” he groans, his voice thick with lust. “You can come now, can’t you? You can come for me.” 

You gasp, tensing as you seize up, pleasure exploding and blooming up your spine. You stammer out his name, grabbing at his arms desperately to ground yourself as he works you through it, rubbing and thrusting and muttering sweet, positive words. 

He slows down, planning on holding himself back so you can try again right after if you want to, but you squeeze his biceps. 

“Steven, please,” you pant, “Want you to come.” 

And he loses himself instantly. He comes hard, swearing as he spurts inside your pussy, thrusting rapidly and trying to get as deep as he physically can. 

He breathes heavily, quickly helping you to put your legs down and rubbing your sore muscles. 

“I’m sorry I didn-”

He kisses you hurriedly, stroking your cheeks. “Don’t ever be sorry for that love,” he presses his lips to yours again, softer this time. “You’re perfect.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[darklilacs]

in true ridley scott fashion: fuck history fuck canon. geta forgives caracalla and they cross over to the other side together :)

It happened quickly. Much faster than he had anticipated. Thousands of times, he had seen gladiators take their last breath to entertain their emperors and the crowd. They spat blood, their panicked eyes darting around in a desperate attempt to free themselves from bodies that, in their final moments, became inescapable cages. 

Back then, he had found it somewhat amusing. Seeing how, when the end was near, people behaved like desperate. Deep down, Caracalla had always thanked the gods that he would never stand in the arena. His pain would not be a spectacle. Even now, just after death, though a whirlwind of emotions tossed him around like a ship with no destination, he felt relief that he had gone quietly. Without applause or laughter. Just like that. Like an echo.

Caracalla woke up on a beach. The rough, gray sand should have irritated his skin, and left red marks. But his hands remained unchanged. He would have gladly scraped them down to the bone because, he still saw Geta’s gaze behind his eye every time he closed his eyeslids. His brother wasn’t angry with him—that was perhaps the worst part. Geta looked at him with terror, with concern, silently pleading for his brother to come back to him.

Snap out of it, brother. Calm down. Wake up!

Caracalla wasn’t the boy Geta had known his whole life at that moment. 

Caracalla saw red. Lightning in his head thundered loudly, preventing him from forming a coherent thought. The worst thought emerged from the chaos in his gut like a well-nurtured plant: Kill before you are killed.

Caracalla saw red when he was angry.

He saw red in his brother’s hair as the servants carried away his body. His laurel wreath fell to the ground with a clatter. Geta never liked taking off his jewelry. He would have been so angry if he had known...

Caracalla saw red on his own hands when he woke from his trance after the murder. When the ship of his thoughts quietly sailed past the rocks, and the storm subsided. For a long time, he tried to wash the blood off himself. But it kept coming back, as if Caracalla had been condemned after the murder to live as a statue that will always be covered in rust. The color of dried blood on the floor.

Caracalla couldn’t see blood as he rubbed his hands in the sand.

He wanted blood.

Isn’t it funny that he had shouted that just a few days ago, looking down at the arena? Wishing for a spill so vast it would create a sea. And he always got it. Now, he wasn’t worth even a drop.

He buried his face in his hands, breathing heavily. In the afterlife, oxygen was unnecessary, but out of habit, his chest rose and fell unevenly. Sweet air did not grace him with its presence. Having lived in abundance, he was now left with death and grayness. With storms and lightning. No red at all.

The sound of a boat docking on the shore suddenly caught his attention. Was it possible that a lost soul had wandered into the abyss he had created himself? Pluto must have a sense of humor if a stray mortal had been sent to haunt him for eternity. To torment him until, finally, a single drop of blood fell onto the earth covered in gray sand.

Caracalla curled in on himself. Perhaps his new tormentor would be merciful.

"Brother."

Caracalla heard it right beside him.

His muscles tensed instantly. Of course. From now on, Geta's voice would haunt him, accompanied by the endless black sea before him. Instead of the beautiful song of sirens, his brother's concerned voice would lure him toward a happier place he would never find.

"Look at me."

Caracalla felt a hand on his shoulder. He was a fool, yet he raised his head.

Geta’s eyes looked at him with the same concern as that night. He wasn’t afraid for his own life but for Caracalla’s. He feared that he had lost his brother forever.

“I’ve been waiting for you. It’s time to go.”

Geta took his hands and led him closer to the boat. Onboard, a hooded figure was already waiting. Charun.

The myths did not reflect the calm that emanated from his presence. People fear death, the moment they are left alone. It is somewhat comforting that, during the final journey, someone accompanies us.

During Caracalla’s final journey, he will be accompanied by two people. Pluto’s envoy and Geta. Because before they were emperors, before they fell in love with power, they were brothers. Brothers who, during childhood games, made a promise. A promise not meant to be taken as seriously as a vow to the gods. Yet, somewhere in the hearts of both brothers, that promise must have been hidden, safe from the specter of hunger for violence and gold.

Always by your side. Wherever we are.

Caracalla dug in his heels, frightened of this last journey. Geta stopped mid-step, still holding his hands.

“I—I’m sorry,” Caracalla stammered uncertainly. As if he had just learned a new word, one that carried a magic he feared. A word he had avoided like fire—until now.

“I know,” Geta replied gently.

As if he truly understood, what Caracalla felt before he had even managed to voice his emotions aloud. That’s just how he was, wasn’t it? Geta was always right, always knew better. When they were children, Caracalla thought it was a gift. Now, it seemed more like a curse. Whatever he will say, Geta won’t be surprised by his remorse. He won’t notice the change growing within him, hesitant and fragile, like a bird too weak to break through its eggshell.

“Forgive me. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Caracalla fell to Geta’s feet. His brother knelt down in front of him, not letting go for a second. A comically tragic mirror of the pose they had taken that night. On their knees, torn by conflicting emotions. 

But this time, Caracalla didn’t see red. He saw a warm brown. The color of Geta’s eyes. The color that reminded him of home. Of reassurance.I’m here with you, and everything will be okay.

“I forgive you, brother.”

Caracalla exhaled unevenly, as if he had taken a breath of fresh air. He tasted the sweet fruit he had longed for.

Caracalla buried his face in the crook of his neck. He could have started crying. But not now. Not here. It was too soon. He couldn’t wait to see the blue again.

“Come on. We should go.”

The brothers left the beach. Together. Just as they had promised each other years ago. Caracalla could have sworn that before the boat pushed off from the shore, he heard Geta’s voice.

Always by your side. Wherever we are.

read on ao3 :) Did I disappoint you? Will they still let me over If I cross the line? - beautyofsilence - Gladiator (2000) [Archive of Our Own]

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Which should tell you what kind of coordination there is between BP/CH and KP.

How likely do you think it'll happen if they won't get William onboard?

It depends on the issue.

If the issue is whether to bring Harry back (which is what several trial balloons have been recently), then BP/CH needs William’s and Kate’s support to help it go down better with the public - William helps with the “future of the monarchy” side and Kate gets all the media attention so they need her happy and smiley in the photos. As long as William is blocking it (or at the very least, refusing to engage with Harry), there’s zero chance. I don’t think William would stand in the way of bringing Harry back privately/on the family side as long as William doesn’t have to play “one big happy family” at Christmas (which seems unlikely, given Harry’s PR, to me). Most of what I’ve heard and seen of William’s rejection/refusal of these trial balloons is to bring Harry back in any kind of official working capacity.

If it’s any other issue - like whether Andrew can work again or taking back Royal Lodge or the foreign trips (I feel like the reveal the other week about Charles planning a trip to India was very much a trial balloon rather than an official announcement) - BP/CH doesn’t need KP/William so it doesn’t really matter whether William’s on board or not.

[seokmattchuus]

Twt on the daily: Stop debuting minors!! Minors in kpop bad!!

Twt when it comes to boys planet: Yujin's only 15 but he's so talented!! How can he not debut :(( You guys are meanies :((((

[f1-stuff]

Mexican GP '24 // "Lawson! Law-son!" (2/?)

[yrsonpurpose]

CHARLES LECLERC Qualifying // Canadian GP 2023

[tomwambsmilk]

fr tho @staff why are you trying to make tumblr more like other sites why are you destroying your niche in the market please there have got to be ways to make tumblr more accessible to new users without sacrificing the very things that your existing userbase loves

[pigglepiephi]

It took 1 WHOLE WEEK for you to do this, but sure whatever 😏

[zaycheese]

Personally fully onboard of morally grey boss woman character having a loving spouse to go home to and rant about today's activities.

[crazysnakey]

Don't forget the reason the U.S. is supporting Israel's genocide of Palestine - hell, 90% of the reason they ever get involved into something in the Middle East is for ulterior purposes regarding oil.

That and the Ben Gurion Canal project, which you can learn more about:

Also this short video explaining the canal's significance and full history in summary:

Simply put,

[silverspleen]

Was Trap 2024 a good movie? No.

Did I receive a surprise shirtless serial killer dad Josh Hartnett scene? Yes I did. So like. I was happy.

[roscoehamiltons]

happy fp1 everyone 🤪

[badolmen]

I can fix him*

*bad writing, underutilized gameplay mechanics, characters with unfulfilled potential, funded by bootlickers

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

‘Other than the fact that Lady Éowyn didn’t sleep in her chambers and has run away with a man below her station?’ Cynbel asks, he peers up at Grima. An inspecting expression that Grima thinks to be stolen from him. ‘Who has said such things?’ ‘Cook. Also Hilja who does the charring.’ Cynbel grinds away at the fish paste. ‘My mam says you should take me under your wing and train me up. That you’re more useful if you can make me useful to the king.’ Grima sneers. Cynbel shrugs. ‘Tell me more about this char girl’s rumour-mongering,’ Grima orders.

Cynbel makes a return! The absolute mad-lad who looked at Grima and went "what if he was dad material?"

Grima disagrees, vehemently.