#this is what i deal with on a daily basis

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

The Hell of Wait

Imagine this: You are the Queen of Ithaca. You gave birth at most like 5 months ago and your husband is gone to fight a war. You are now to raise this kid by yourself. The war itself takes ten years. You get the news he won, and the other kings are back in their homes, but yours is still there. He probably died. Now you have to entertain suitors who believe he and all the 600 men he took to war died and they turn out to be the a gang of assholes that pester you and your son. You wait.

You and your mother in law still believe he will come but he takes so fucking long she dies of a broken heart. You keep waiting.

You are forced to keep serving the suitors, forced to spend stupid amounts of money everyday on food and wine, throw banquets, parties, allow your home to be desecrated and is forced to house the freeloaders, no matter how much unsufferable they are, because of divine law. And you can't even complain because said divine law is the only thing that protects you from them aswell, at least for now, but you know it's only for a while. They are dangerous power hungry monsters, led by a fucking sociopath who bullies your teenage son and jokingly threatens to SA you on a daily basis, and he is so bold he does it to your son's face. Still you wait, no matter how much it hurts, you wait.

Yes, you know Zeus will punish them if they do anything, but the punishment means the crime has already been committed, so you are fucked either way. The safest thing to do would give in, but you refuse. Instead you risk your life and plot a whole scheme to fool those men and buy time for his arrival, if he's still even alive. Night after night you unthread that shroud, knowing that if any of them see you do it you are done for (ayyy). But you do it because you have faith, and you prefer to suffer the consequences that forsake the man you love. You choose to wait some more

The day you feared the most finally arrives, you have to pick and there's no running from it anymore, but you still find a way to buy more time, even if it's a few more days: The Challenge. String a bow, shoot an arrow through some axes and voilá. Perfect plan, doable enough so they can't question it but hard enough so they won't be able to do it. It works, but now the suitors are pissed and are about to raid the castle. It's over. But still, you remain waiting. if that's the last day of your life, you will spend it steadfast, unbroken, unwaivering. Waiting.

I love this part, not only because it's beatiful, but because we see that she is fucking pissed. She is very fucking angry at all she's been through these goddamn 20 years. Miraculously your husband arrives just in time, and deals with the situation, the wait has paid off, You can finally see the man you love after 20 years, you can finally RELAX and the first thing he does is fix his lips to question your love? Shit, i'd be fucking pissed too!

And i love how Ody gets angry at the bed thing but instantly recognizes her feelings when she claps back and he just pipes down and shuts up. He recognizes that he might be just a man, but she is just a woman too. She was fighting monsters and storms of her own, and she knows that if he went through half of what she's been through (and she can see he's been through A LOT) and fought as hard as she did for their love, then it doesn't matter what horrible things he has done, cause if she was in his shoes, she'd do 10x worse.

I fucking love this damn musical.

[alba1221141]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

2

Y/N

"Now this one's called Mouser," Powder says, shoving the mini smoke bomb into my palms.

"Mouser?" I peer at the scrawled whiskers and ears.

"Yeah, silly, 'cause it's a mouse," she giggles, prodding one of the ears. "Ya like it?" She looks so hopeful when she asks that, like a puppy just wanting to make its owner happy.

I nod, smiling. "I love it. It's so cute. What color does it boom to?"

"Guess!" Powder singsongs, and I groan.

"Don’t make me guess. I hate guessi—"

"Just guess! Pleeeaase."

"Fine... pink?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Blue?"

"Guess again!" But before I can... BOOM.

I jolt awake in bed, panting softly. This is an infestation, relentless and vile. First, she worms her way into my daily routine, always there… looming. It’s disgusting, absolutely revolting. And now, this ridiculous fixation is ruining my sleep schedule—worse, my study schedule.

I find myself at my vanity, applying a ridiculous amount of makeup to hide the bags under my eyes. It’s fine, just a slip-up—one tiny mistake. Nobody has to know everything fell apart. Not today, not ever.

My hairbrush clatters to the floor as I throw it, frustration rising. No. No. My entire day cannot be derailed by this one tiny lapse. It was just a dream. My subconscious was simply in the mood to revisit the past, nothing more.

I take a deep breath and focus, moving with deliberate precision. When my hair is halfway secured in a perfect pink bow, I grab my uniform. The school uniform is simple—appropriate, modest, as it should be. Certain people, however, don’t wear it that way, why did my mind jump to her so instantly? There are plenty of other people who flaunt the dress code, make a mockery of it. Why her? It’s infuriating. Completely nonsensical.

I grab my bag from its designated spot by the door, double-checking its contents—binder, planner, pens in their correct case, and books for every class, organized by schedule. Satisfied, I sling it over my shoulder and head downstairs, the rhythmic click of my Mary Janes echoing throughout the otherwise empty house.

I move through the familiar routine—toast, tea, and the faint hum of the dishwasher in the background. Every detail falls into place, a perfect puzzle...

Until I step outside. The cool morning air brushes my skin, crisp and biting, and my mind drifts again. Why her? I shake the thought away, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. This is school. My space. My domain of control and focus. She can’t ruin that too. She won’t.

By the time I reach the front gates, my mental walls are firmly in place. They hold strong as i rush over to Cait and Mel waiting by our grouping of lockers. But then I catch a flash of blue in the corner of my vision—braids swaying, a grin that’s far too self-assured. My barricades shudder, and I bite down on my lip. Hard. Hard enough for those tiny droplets of blood to form.

I force my eyes forward, swallowing the sharp sting. Today will be just like any other. I won’t let her mess it up.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

School’s supposed to be a regular thing for me—well, that’s a lie. I only show up when Silco’s got that whole “I’ll cut your allowance!” thing looming over my head.

He's always 100000% bluffing, the mans a softie at heart.

Anyway, I only actually give a shit about the damn place when I’ve got a deal lined up. And hey, two days in a row?

Fucking impressive.

Todays little deal is 3g of molly, ecstasy, MDMA whatever floats ya boat.

It's a person by person basis. The pompous little Pilties will always call it Molly, like saying ecstasy would give them a fucking meltdown.

Like somehow Molly makes it sound all sweet and innocent—total bullshit to be honest.

As I march through the school parking lot, boots thudding against the cracked tarmac, I spot her. Miss Saboteur. I shove the bag of pills out of sight, just in time.

Ha, not today, toots.

She's standing there with her little Piltie entourage.

Honestly, it's pathetic. Her naivety to the class divide. And she let me tell you Y/N must be insanely thick because its very, very obvious.

You can even see it in the lovely parking lot.

On one side, you’ve got these busted-up Chevys and beat-to-hell sedans. On the other? Shiny Cadillacs and those fancy little luxury cars, the ones that scream Daddy’s money with every brrrrr of the engine.

A very diverse range if i do say so myself.

But ladies and gents, deny it all she wants, roots stick—Zaunite dirt doesn’t just brush off.

I toss the little purple baggie into locker 505 as requested, and it lands with a soft plop at the bottom. Job done.

The bell rings, but who even cares? School’s just a place to mess with people, anyway. Everyone’s all in their little cliques, walking like robots to their boring classrooms, all stiff and predictable.

So fucking boring.

I shove my way through the crowd, elbowing a few people ‘cause why the hell not? My boots clunk on the floor, and I can practically hear them wincing behind me. Good. I love that sound.

The second-floor art stairwell is, by far, the best skipping spot.

none of those nosy hall monitors or teachers lurking. Plus, it’s got this weird, artsy vibe from all the random graffiti and doodles left behind.

Honestly? It’s mostly me. Who else has the guts? Or the creativity? Maybe Ekko, when I rope him in. He always starts with "Jinx, don’t," blah, blah, blah—but give him five minutes, and he’s tagging like it’s his idea. Classic

So, I’m waiting for him now. He’s my usual skipping buddy��rebelling against authority and all that jazz.

By the time Mr Boy Saviour appears I've got a shit eating grin on my face as a doodle a certain girl on the wall, a little too focused on getting the details right.

"Look," I chuckle, "she's got horns."

"That Y/N again?" He leans in front of my masterpiece, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I giggle, lying through my teeth. "Totally not."

Liar, liar, liar.

"Gosh Ekko, get off my back, heard of artistic expression?" My grin vanishes, like, boom, gone in an instant.

Poor guy’s used to my outbursts by now. He just plops down next to me when I curl my knees to my chest, all casual-like, like I didn’t just snap at him for no damn reason.

But there is a reason, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

"I don't even get why you still talk about her, Ekko," I mutter into the fabric of my ripped tights. "I fucking hate her."

"Right, don't lie," Ekko says, leaning back against the wall, his voice all too casual. "You’ve been drawing her nonstop for the past week."

I huff, glaring at the floor.

Typical. He always knows.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Calls me out like it’s nothing. I roll my eyes, sinking into my knees even further.

“Shut up, Ekko,” I mutter, my fingers twitching against the ripped fabric of my tights. “It’s not like that.”

It totally is, though.

"Don't lie, you've been drawing her for days," Ekko says, grinning like he knows something I don't.

I squint at him. "I’m not—" I cut myself off, glancing at the sketch again.

Shit.

He leans closer, all smug, "Oh really? Then what’s this?" He points at the doodle like it’s the evidence that’ll finally put me on trial.

"Fuck off," I mutter, tossing the pen in his direction like it's some kind of missile, damn wish it was before stomping off.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hey this is my first fanfiction on Tumblr, hope you like it :) please like and reblog!

[keepmovinjunior]

i just wanted to talk about something (under a read more bc it is out of character)

everyone is here for their own reasons, and that's cool. i totally get that. i'm not about to tell anyone how to spend their time or operate on their own blog.

i, personally, am here for fun and that's it. i'm here to write. i'm here to ramble about fictional characters and have silly little interactions on the dash / expand on my character's relationship with your character's. my real life has its own stressors (i have a great life but obviously not everything is peachy keen and being someone who is politically informed and inclined, i want to have a safe space in which i am not interacting with that type of content that i can retreat to for my own relaxation). at the end of the day this is, as i said, playing tumblr barbies for me (and most likely for most people). it's a game and it's not that serious. in fact, it's like. not serious at all.

some people are here for community and friendships and that's totally fine. i'm not against making friends, either, and i do really like and appreciate a lot of the people i interact with often and on a daily basis, even if i don't know most of you well at all. we engage in the same hobby and we're all aliases behind a screen but i really do enjoy talking to many of you. however, at the end of the day, if i don't make friends here, that's fine, too. i'm just chilling!

having said that, i've been around for a long time and have, of course, made friendships, had relationships, gone in and out of certain blogs, etc. and this is not a hobby i think i will ever outgrow (probably will just have less time for during certain periods of my life - and most people probably will experience that). i've had falling outs, i've had moments of being uncomfortable with certain people, i have had headcanons and sometimes even some of my own graphics lifted from my blog by others of the same muse, i've even had whole ass relationships with other writers in which i was very hurt. but here's the damn thing, ok: i never, ever, not even once, had a public DNI that other people had to adhere to to write with me, tried to call someone out or incite community wide drama by dragging other unrelated people into what happened over my own personal experiences, or tried to control anyone else over it. i always understood that not everyone is going to feel the same way, or have the same experience, with another person. i understood that dealing with my feelings about the situation was on me, and it was in my own best interest to learn how to move past or live with what happened. if i felt uncomfortable with seeing that other person around, it was my own responsibility to handle my own feelings as i saw fit, and no one else needed to do that for me. this is just good philosophy toward life in general, but, as it applies to tumblr: if i couldn't handle seeing someone on this platform and co-existing in this space, i would leave, sign out, or just. literally do anything else. i knew that my own friends and my own fun is what i should focus on.

there is a feature on tumblr called filtering. you can blacklist tags and users. you can filter things that make you uncomfortable if you want to stay but don't want to see those things. you can unfollow. you can block. you can literally do anything else, and you don't owe explanations for that. or, if you can't handle it even with those things done, you can sign out and leave and invest your time in something healthier and more relaxing. this is a hobby.

by all means, have your DNIs, make your call outs (leave me out of those, though, because i guarantee you that unless this person is a sexual predator, groomer, or scam artist, i am not going to care, especially if i have no relationship with anyone else involved in said drama) and will think you're ridiculous for it. just know that the moment you start to try to control how other people operate, you will lose out on a lot of really good experiences and just make this a more miserable place for you to be.

the best healing is exposure and love and support. it's not focusing on what other people do or seeking out spaces in which you will be triggered because you enjoy being a victim.

take it from me, a 30 year old queer woman who has gone through my fair share of loss in life: it's not that serious. it's really not.

[silly-skater-butch]

How the creepy guy at work looks at you after you report him to HR.

[ugly-anarchist]

If you need proof or an example of this: Let me give it to you.

I posted this:

[Image ID 1: A post with the text, in all caps "FUCK OFF WHY DID I JUST SEE A PRIDE MERCH LINEUP WITH THE ALLOACE FLAG BUT NOT THE ALLOARO FLAG THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THIS SHIT." End ID]

And in the replies someone said this:

[Image ID 2: Three replies from the same person. Their name is censored. The text reads:

Reply 1: "Not the best look to be blaming AlloAces for the lack of Aroallo stuff out there. Not the best look to be repeating what basically was similar shit said during the ace discourse era but with a different coat of paint. Not very informative of you to spread the idea that alloace didn't exist before aroallo when literally the community had been saying "you can be gay/lesbian/bi/pan/etc. and ace" long before the term allo started picking up steam and popularity."

Reply 2: "No, this post just happened to be below the one I originally replied to. I really don't fucking care if im proving your point or not because this post alone very much just comes off as you being incredibly uncharitable towards other aspecs for literally just existing over things that are not their fault. you are acting like a child throwing a fit in aspec spaces and crying over other aspecs taking things away from you when that has never been the case."

Reply 3: "You can ask for respect without trying to tear down other aspecs around you. aroallos deserve respect yes, but the fact you actively are going around disrespecting other aspec people is absolutely hypocritical when you demand respect and then demean those around you for things that legit are not their fault."

End ID.]

And then they posted this soon after (I cropped out the rest of this post because it just went on with the same message):

[Image ID 3: A post by the same person who made the replies, their name is still censored. The words "Oppression Olympics" are highlighted. The text reads: "I'm gonna tell you right now that no aspec person in the community has it better than any other. no one has it worse than any other. We all have it bad in multiple different ways and to claim someone has it better or worse is just oppression Olympics bullshit and an excuse to pretend you're punching up when you're just causing infighting." End ID]

I've been doing this for a long time and I've noticed a very common alloarophobic dog whistle that many people don't seem to catch:

"Oppression Olympics"

If you see a post talking about how "some aspecs" like to use "oppression olympics" what they're actually talking about is alloaros pointing out the difference in treatment between aces and alloaros.

They're referring to alloaros speaking out about how they've been treated by aces.

It's a very progressive sounding way of telling alloaros to shut up about alloarophobia within the aspec community.

(No shade to you if you don't catch it btw, it's called a dog whistle for a reason)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

it doesnt need to be said but its genuinely so funny how at-the-hip charles and erik are in krakoa like they really had the green light- the OBLIGATION- to be as obnoxiously close to each other as possible and abused that right to the fullest extent

[themgfujoshi]

News flash: local clown get chased and threatened romantic advances By emo and goth warlords

Said clown that night:

[beans-beneath-moonlight]

Just a casual reminder for the BSD fandom

[obliviouskara]

its kind of beautiful to watch two friends slowly inevitably fall in love with each other like you get to witness when they first met, exchanging shy glances to being attached from the hip, then you notice how compatible they are and that even though they've only known each other for awhile its like they've known each other from another lifetime and you get to see it. they finish each others sentences and like the same things. find the same things funny that most people dont. you witness the shift from being friends to something more. from shy glances to smirking secretly at shared secrets. to sharing special moments when its just them. from brushing each others shoulders to holding hands. warm embraces and back hugs. but as beautiful as it is, its also painful to see them dance around each other. no one wants to make the first move, both afraid to burse the bubble they've made for themselves. denial seems safer even though they both blush at the idea of being mistaken as a couple. both satisfied on the what ifs and could have been instead of taking the first step and you just sit there and watch them break each others heart bc they would rather break their own heart than lose the other. its stupid but also painful but also really beautiful and i just cant.

[cross-d-a]

Jecki Lon: Yord put the tits away

Yord Fandar: 😢😢😢

Jecki Lon: Don’t make me tell you again

Yord Fandar: *quietly and very sadly slips his cloak back on*

[kim-kitsuragi1908]

Hey Kim what kind of stats does that bomb-ass bomber jacket give you?

I had to ask the detective what you meant by “stats” here, citizen, but he said that the… “bomb-ass bomber jacket” gives ‘+2 Composure and +1 Espirit de Corps’, whatever that means. He also laughed and mumbled something to himself about ‘-1 Perception’, but he waved me off and said it wasn’t important when I asked what he meant by that part.

[thecatspasta]

Im just going to start headcanoning that empaths hate narcissists bc they can use their epic empath powers to sense the mix of our extreme self hatred and our superiority complexes and they got so intimidated by the sheer power that is this weird emotional cocktail any bone that supports mental health became magnetically attracted to the narcissist and then flew out of their body and attached itself to us

[chaos-in-one]

Why have I now had 2 different people try to suggest that me not feeling like the 1a or 1b terms for OSDD fit me (don't feel alters are indistinct and have heavy amnesia) means I might have one of the other 3 forms of OSDD

Guys

OSDD-1 is the only one of the 4 with alters as a symptom. And the one I was diagnosed with because I have that symptom. Please look up what the criteria for OSDD 2, 3, and 4 are before suggesting things like that I beg

[hms-incorrect-quotes]

[hellishgayliath]

Helli hellooooo

I wish to have my daughter back by trading you... well your son.

I lost him in the first 5 minutes to find him stuck in a trash can. I had to turn on the TV to get his attention (we watched Hilda). I decided to dress him up in some overalls and a striped shirt for fun. Not long after did he find my paint- it got in his nose and he got upset, so I gave him all the snacks he wanted- I spoiled the hell outta him. Made him a paper crown for good measure

Please accept this as my apology for yoinking your son, so that I may retrieve my own from you in return.

How did yall's night go?

Active night for you too huh? I kinda had to wrestle or rather apprehend Luci for all my opossum plushies she tried to attack cuz they reminded her too much of Pico. So I had to nab her fox plush in hopes of it distracting her long enough for me to hide them away. Then I thought it be a cute idea to show her how to make little origami paper stars, and she did pick up on it fast(she really liked the green ones)! That is until I took my eyes off her for a sec and she somehow found my super glue and started sticking em everywhere. I know she’s into sci-fi (me not so much) so I went with the most basic thing I could think of putting on to watch, which was Back to The Future. Rest of the night was a hitch.

We also picked up some starbucks along the way in the morning and I got her a lil cake pop as a treat and whatever order you like to get and of course some peanut butter bars for Pico ❤️

Thank you for returning my boy, all is forgiven, even if he is covered in paint my dumb lil son

(Don’t mind the baby harness, she kept trying to fly away and I didn’t want to lose her >_> )

[antisocialgaycat]

Someday tumblr is going to be gone, or I will, and that's ok. It's sad, yes, but at least I will have known you. At least I'll still be able to quote terrible posts with my friends, at least I'll be able to look back and remember all these people who are closer to me than anyone I knew before. This site has gotten shit, but at least we've been here together. At least I met you.