#to make way for a long one tomorrow....

[hannahssimblr]

It’s a while before I talk to her again. I spot her strolling past the arcade one day, eating an ice cream while I’m coming out of the supermarket across the road. The street is thronged with tourists, so she doesn’t see me. A relief. I’m plagued by this irrational fear that she���ll be able to tell from looking at me that I’ve surrendered to my teenage urges and fantasised about having sex with her about eight times already. It’s quite an insane thing to be concerned about, but I’m paranoid, and just watch her go, purple phone poking out the back pocket of her little denim shorts.

Another time, early in the morning during a run, I think I see her swimming. Her brown hair spills over her shoulders as her face turns toward the horizon. I’m too far to know for certain if it is her, so I never call out to her. I turn at the end of the beach and run home. 

It is this morning, the morning I see Evie bobbing serenely in the sea like some kind of mirage, that I find a missed call on my phone. 

It’s on silent, it always is, but after several minutes of standing in front of the mirror scrutinising the darkening tan lines on my arms, I lift it to see the notification. 

One missed call from Alison Littler, 9:12AM

I frown. For as long as I’ve known Alison, she has been a late riser, and contacting her before noon, an impossibility. She used to say “good morning!” in her texts at one in the afternoon, but who knows, maybe she has turned over a new leaf. 

I hit the return button. It rings just once. 

“Hello?” 

“Alison?”

“Jude.”

I smooth the top of my shower-damp hair. “You rang me.”

“Sorry… I did, and then I realised you’re away on your holidays, so.”

“Yeah, but I don’t mind talking if you want to talk. All good?”

There is a long pause on the line, and I only know she’s still there because I can hear her breathing, shuddering and unsteady, like she’s afraid her voice will crack if she speaks. 

“Alison?”

“Can you come over?” She manages, “I know, you’re far away, so if you don’t it’s fine, but,” she exhales thickly and sniffs, “I’d really like it if you could.”

“Is everything alright?”

Another sniff, “... um.”

“Alison… Tell me.”

“Okay,” she says, “but please, you can’t tell anyone else.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[suntails]

stalemate

[zoroslost]

When you have to chaperone your first mate and your adopted father to a concert and run into your friend ex-ally and have to help him out of another insane situation

[solstrix]

Thalassophobia - 3/4

Local catgirl impulsively speaks up on feelings she has not yet processed, more at 8

1 2 4

[setmeatopthepyre]

moodboard: antarct-fic [wip]

tagged by @beanarie <3 this was so much fun to do!

rules: Either: choose one of your published fics (or a WIP if you'd prefer), create a moodboard for it and share it along with a snippet. Or: Create a moodboard for your fave episode of the show, fave character, or a fic someone else has written that you love, and share it with some sentences about why it's a fave! (and tag people!)

It starts as a joke, is the thing. More accurately, it starts with Lucy dragging him to a cocktail bar, and Tommy moping into his third Sidecar (“Please tell me that’s some sort of gay army euphemism”) while he contemplates, for the millionth time, calling Evan. “So.” Lucy covers his phone with a menu. “Holiday plans?” “Does researching ‘most remote places on earth to wallow’ count?” She sips her old fashioned thoughtfully. “Well, if you really wanna get out of cell range, my buddy says they always need pilots in Antarctica.” It’s a joke. No one spontaneously decides to spend the holidays at the South pole. Two weeks later, his paperwork is filed and he’s on his way.

[read more in my antarct-fic tag]

tagging: @sugarpenchant @leashybebes @epiphainie @ambernotember @trombonechurchill

moodboard text snippets are from an absolutely amazing (and educational and funny) polar manual from 1965 I found this pdf of. highly recommend skimming through it. how else will you learn how much milk is in a dead walrus? / nearly all photos from the antarctic sun

[harpoonsnotspoons]

I will ruin you

[marstonjohn]

heyyyy. just met the rdr cast. wtfffff life IS worth living

[savemebeel]

Sorry for being quiet on here but I’ve been taking some time off to get better at editing and I’m gonna try to apply my new skills to my regular obey me edits

So far this is what I’ve got going on now! I used my MC Marisol as a test dummy to play around with this new style 😋

[applestorms]

i think cottagecore is like the ultimate anti-rape culture white woman fantasy. it's a vision of reality where Girls* go to picnics and feed each other strawberries and kiss behind the willow trees, where nothing is ever bad or hurtful in a truly meaningful way, where love and safety is the unifying factor of reality. i'm frankly more surprised that some people ever thought this had anything to do with actual rural country life or farming-- at it's center, cottagecore is not just interested in getting away from the city to get away from capitalism or the other struggles of modern life. it's also, fundamentally, about getting away from Men, to a utopian garden of eden on the outskirts where Men simply do not exist, and therefore cannot harm or rape you.

*white, cis, skinny, traditionally attractive, etc.

so many of the Comforting aesthetics and purity politics that we have come to cultivate online in recent years come down to this idea, in my opinion-- a desire to find a Safe Space, to fade away into the fantasy of your Comfort Characters, to find the one singular location of true Stability in a world where everything else is fated to be horrible and terrible forever. it's the negative space of doomer culture, the pessimism that blew up after trump's first election, after the color-blind ignorance of the obama era was sufficiently destroyed by a horror so visible and blatant you simply cannot look away from it. it's no wonder so many of these aesthetics and ideas blew up to the degree that they did during 2020, in the midst of so much global instability and hopelessness. people wanted, and still want, something Pure and Good to take shelter within in the face of all this Evil-- a shell you can hide inside where everything will be perfect forever even as the storm rages on outside, beyond your control and beyond what you want to think about.

it's a flawed way of thinking, of course. black and white to an extreme. you can never find a place that is truly Pure and Good to the intense standards that you set, simply by nature of how those standards themselves are made and enforced-- not only are people simply too complex and nuanced, but the desire for something Freed From Evil itself inherently creates a more and more impossible standard, that is either overly-regulatory of anything that could be even a speck of Problematic™, or is necessarily blind to its own faults and biases (e.g. cottagecore as white lesbian tradwives). and, on the other side, the world outside is not Pure Evil either-- there is still hope to be found, ways in which we can make our systems work For Us, and ways in which we can change them (though those approaches may be difficult or require collaborative effort we, at the moment, simply have not coordinated).

[r0semultiverse]

Happy 4/13, here's the Deltritan or Satyr Equivalent to Dragon Ball for their species and civilization.

[theprincessandthepie]

LOOK AT HERRRRRRR <3333333

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

Jealousy (1/7)

The first instalment in our series of 7 Matt/Mello/Near drabbles written for @dnrarepairweek! :3 Prompt: competition.

Near is not an envious child.

Rarepair: Matt/Mello/Near Other tags: one-sided Mello/Near, Matt/Mello, Wammy's House Era, Jealousy

[read on AO3 or below] [series on AO3]

Near is not an envious child. He is generally content with the hand he’s been dealt, well-suited to the environment he is growing up in.

And yet he is familiar with sharp jealousy, the kind that twists his gut into knots, that makes him want to howl and snarl and bite even though he would never.

It’s all in the soft strands of red hair lain on the black of Mello’s shoulder; the easy touch of Mello’s fingers on a striped sleeve; their hands held so casually.

Near will never say anything, of course. He is not an envious child.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

My hot take is that marcanne has as much potential for toxic yuri as any other calamity trio ship and it's not nearly as soft and fluffy as one may think

[illgiveyouahint]

Who are you, Ino?

[creatediana]

Sarah Bernhardt as Hamlet by Alphonse Mucha - a whiteboard drawing I did while subbing for a few study halls, 4/10/2025

[pyros-random-thoughts]

Mouse in my house what is his business here? In a place filled with beings that so easily remind it just how small it is?

Little one you are nowt but a fool, for you roam the domain of the large ones and their smaller predators and expect to survive there through wit and speed alone.

Little one, do you fear them? With their sharp teeth and claws, their shrill voices, their intentions beyond your understanding? Do they keep you returning to the cracks and the undee-places?

Little one, they have brought strange things with food in them. Will you enter? Will the food inside tempt you? Will you be outwitted by a box? Will the beasts notice you, while the large ones slumber? You are not safe here. You should have left while you had the chance. Pray that you are stronger than your fear, that you may return to the ivy once more.

Did you come here on your own? Were you brought in? Are you scared? Lonely? Do you miss the ivy? Your family? The way the birds would sing to you in the morning? Instead of this dusty place full of strange hums and whirs and high-pitched beeps, would you prefer the chirping of birds, and the rustle of leaves in the wind? Do you yearn for home, little one?