#i blame u for this

[cryptocism]

"just as I did, in 1983."

you'd never know my favourite parts of the show are the fucked up insane bits when my first instinct is to draw the cheesiest thing imaginable

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

sentinel cant be a bad person

[stargirl230]

ghost of you

super quick Sua screencap redraw to celebrate the new video release - no I was not expecting it to be Like That and yes I was devastated

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[tosxah]

Surely, surely, it was too good to be true?

A reoccurring thought he had with her. Their first night together. When he found her. When she joined him in his dumb escapades of showing his truthful affections. Her kissing his lips sweetly in the library. She had no need for him. She had her pick of anyone she wanted if she wanted them. And she had picked him. Ajax wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. To ask 'why me?' Why didn't matter, the experience did.

Ajax committed her breaths to memory, the soft slick noises of his fingers moving in and out of her, the way she rolled her hips onto his hand- he didn't like saying he was lucky but what else could it be?

Even in her sarcasm she was terribly, addictively sexy. His name fell out her mouth with intent and it drove him insane. Honestly, it was his attempt (in the sexiest way possible) to let her know he didnt know what the fuck he was doing. He had sex ed, hed watched porn but he wasnt stupid he knew it was perfomative, he knew in practice itd be vastly different. She moved her hips in a way that rubbed her lower back against his firm cock pressed between them, still a little wet from his own cum from round one. She did this again, and again, movements matching how his fingers rhythmically curved inside her just so.

Ajax huffed a laugh as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the top of her ear and withdrew his fingers without replacing them. "Okay," He breathed out with a smile, placing another half kiss to the side of her warm face, using the hand on her neck to move up and hold her jaw, turning it to place another messy kiss to her rosy lips. "If that's how you'll be."

Despite his haze and pathetically desperate need to be inside her, he was no longer wearing a condom and didnt want to trek back and forth again. So instead he was quick to move his hands down her body to the back sides of her thighs and scoop her up. She was light and slender, toned and very easy to grab. He held her against his body, her back to his front, suspended by holding her thighs to her chest with her legs slightly spread, the soft flesh spilling between his fingers. Confident he wasn't going to drop her even if she were to writhe, he turned and walked to the bed not too far away given the size of his studio apartment and threw her on the covers. Ajax followed by climbing ontop of her, leaning over her to grab another condom from the box in his drawer. Due to having to use one hand to keep him from falling on her, he ripped the condom open with his teeth, managing to remove the latex from the packet with one hand and his mouth before settling back to be on his knees. Ajax, back on his knees on the bed, smoothed the condom over his hard cock, delivering a fraction of the friction he was craving. He placed a hand on her thigh, the other holding his cock as he pressed the head of it against her wet hole with a lithe smile. "Need a pen and paper, Girly?" Was it cocky? A little over the top? Maybe. But maybe he deserved to act that way, when the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was naked on his bedsheets. He gently began to push himself in. Inch by painful inch.

Problematic. She couldn't say she was exactly a problematic person or one who dwelled herself in actions that would put her in some kind of uncomfortable positions. Or, well, on an ordinary amount of times that was acceptable.

On the other hand, regarding Ajax, she had brought that problem into her life herself.

A problem she couldn't solve, one that deep down maybe she didn't even bother to. After all, wasn't she said problem in the first place? She got... Addicted to his presence. At first she wondered if it was just loneliness to have her keep him around her, simple curiosity for his person, to see how long he would actually resist to follow her if sex was, after all, what he was after. But he did stay, and she let him. He was unique in the way he presented himself, catching that clumsiness that broke that mask of charm he pulled off so often, so naturally. He was hard to not like. That was the problem, indeed. Or she was just easily pleased. Probably both, but could anyone blame her?

Or maybe she was just out of her mind. She wouldn't be surprised if this addiction of hers had sent her sanity to hell.

It might have not been a miracle to cause their encounter, however with his hand running close to her neck and his fingers moving inside her just like that, she might just give in to the idea that whatever they had wasn't explicable in simple terms.

Not when he made her feel like she could just let go of any ounce of control around him, fall on her knees for him if he wasn't holding her against his body.

Her head spun, or perhaps it was just his fingers moving the universe along with them with each stroke, with each breath moving mountains and oceans against her ear. His erection wasn't unnoticed either, even more arousing to know that he was already that hard again, just by touching her. He was barely deep enough though, and yet so painfully close to had the stars burn bright again in her body, see her before her eyes when they'd explode in all their beauty.

He opened his mouth, she rolled her eyes in response (and her hips, to meet another thrust of his fingers).

Ohhh, so that was the kind of game he wanted to play now.

"Do you need it written down, Ajax?" His name rolled out of her lips in a pant, not missing to press her lower back further against his wet cock. As if her thighs jerking for more friction, more movement were not enough of a sign of what she wanted huh.

Two could play that game. She had a pen in her bag somewhere, though.

She felt the head of his cock rubbing against the crack of her bosom, a turn of her hips and she felt it rub against her pleasantly, leaving its juices sticking to her skin as she rolled again, and again, working her own pleasure up, leaving him hanging. If he felt that bold to ask such a question, then surely he could take this too, or use his imagination to understand what she really wanted if he was that much of a smartass.

[introsteel]

if I try working on this anymore I’ll explode probably just take it

[bisexualcroissant]

thinking about jeremy hitting rock bottom his freshman year, losing so much in one disastrous night, the repercussions of which would continue to haunt him for years. thinking about jeremy spiralling so bad cody said they “really thought we were going to lose him for a while there.” cat saying the right therapist can be “life changing”, using jeremy as an example. thinking about how bad jeremy’s crash out must have been, understandably; thinking about his family continuing to blame him for noah’s death—from the coldness of annalise, to the outright antagonism of bryson, to joshua ignoring him for years. the wilshires doing everything in their power to cover up what happened at the banquet rather than lending an ounce of support to a boy who had lost his brother in terrible circumstances, because jeremy was there, because it was so much easier to blame him for all of it. coldblooded, if you ask me. jeremy needed help, not damage control.

thinking about jeremy having probably the worst year of his life, having the opposite of emotional support from his family, and still somehow coming out of it a better person. thinking of all the work he put in to be better and succeeding—i’d rather die than ever be that person again. believe me. despite the hostility of his family system, despite being blamed for the fallout, despite the guilt and heartbreak that “nearly destroyed him”. still jeremy managed to build a new life for himself out of the wreckage, going so far as to be captain of the trojans, with a team who respect and admire him. still he managed to come out of it with such a capacity for kindness and goodness and lifting the people around him up.

thinking about jeremy continuing to be the human embodiment of sunshine despite living in such a cold home that was never forgiving or warm to him. jeremy knox, you will always be loved by me.

[inkskinned]

i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.

[moncuries]

clearly my idea of these two just revolves around longing and diplomacy

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x09 - “The Dirt Under Your Nails.”

[starpiastri]

since i can’t reblog @formulahs post w a video…. this is what below average capcut skills can get you

[kenchann]

i crave more ortho and deuce moments 🤖♠ (◜◡‾)

[somewhereincairparavel]

a few passages from the book I found:

and this one from the riordan wiki about jasons relationship with coach hedge in TBM:

[drabsyo]

me? shipping another rare pair wlw in a fandom i'm 16 yrs late to? just another tuesday

[hanashiz]

Ritual habit

[inkskinned]

i'm still trying to piece together the truth of it. when you left, you said: feel free to spin this narrative however you want. i have no idea if you were being cruel or if you just genuinely don't remember what you've done to me.

it's hard because i'd done so much of the work for you. i had seen the parts that flaked off, the rust underneath. i started separating you into two people - the one i loved, and the one who hurt me. i had this fantasy version of you - my partner - and then i had this stranger, a third person who would show up randomly to shatter me. i am deliriously glad i'm no longer with "the stranger". i miss the gentle (unreal?) "other" you terribly.

at first, i was so strict about my boundaries. i remember telling you to get the fuck out of my house if you were going to talk to me like that. by the end: i would justify your behavior for you, accepting even your mistreatment as "my fault" in the grand scheme. i look back on the person i was before you - smart, independent, confident - and i feel a strange sense of detachment. i don't even recognize me.

even in one of our last conversations, you said: if you want a partner that always talks warmly to you, find someone else. there was a time that a comment like that would have made me leave. and instead, somehow, i just placidly accepted that kind of thing. you were literally telling me that i wasn't allowed to have a reaction to your cruelty - and i just took it, because you'd so fully turned things around on me.

when people are faced with irrationality, a rational brain tries to make sense of it. this is the trap. they're lovely in the morning, gentle and blue-eyed and sweet. like nothing even happened, they breeze around the house and kiss you on the mouth. but at night; who is that? they snap almost randomly; flying into an impotent rage about just-about-anything. it just doesn't make sense. so the problem must be me, and my brain, and how i think.

the traumatized brain just wants peace. so maybe i'm misremembering. maybe you were just having a bad day. maybe it's actually me.

you eventually would fully turn on me and start implying that i am the bad actor in our relationship. that's what happens, right? that's literally in the playbook. you went to therapy for all of a month, told her a half-truth, co-opted therapyspeak. you figured out how to reframe your actions as "seeking peace." any time i stood my ground, i was "gaslighting." when i asked you to be more gentle, you said i was "tone policing." you said, randomly, i had emotionally manipulated you - i still have no idea what that's even specifically referring to. maybe my consistent requests for calmness and empathy?

and while i literally know better, and i'm sitting here, trained by you, thinking: wait, fuck. was i actually the person you made me out to be?

and the thing that scares me is that i literally do not know if you ever actually saw what you were doing to me. when you'd tell me how you remember arguments, you'd always summarize them in a way where you come off as gentle and easy: "i was trying to set an important boundary." what had actually happened was 15 minutes of you shouting at me i know you did something shady, just admit it already. eventually you'd say my reaction to your shouting (when i finally reacted, which usually happened around hour three) was inevitably "disappointing" and "another way i'm silencing your feelings."

how many times did i ask you - beg you - to just take accountability? looking back, i don't think i ever heard you say: you're right. the way i talked to you was wrong of me.

i am trying to tie together the two people into a full version of you in my head. yes, you made my coffee and made me laugh and spent hours on the phone with me. and yes - you would scream at me until i had to run away and hide behind something.

i wish i did have a narrative i could pull out and shape to my whim. i wish i did have some semblance of reality. instead i just stand here, strange and vibrating, wondering: what the fuck just happened?

[moncuries]

do u mind if i stare at u with my big wet anime eyes