callmemars17 - Tumblr blog

[callmemars17]

Too tired to work on bigger things, so here's some tiny, cozy izzys wearing a banyan, because Izzy deserves that

[callmemars17]

SIR??????????

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Guys this is the actual finale David Jenkins told me I know

[callmemars17]

so whos up for ignoring 2x08 with me?🫱🏽‍🫲🏼

[callmemars17]

completely agree. you already went and killed him, at least now let him rest

I have to like get to work so I can’t fully articulate this now but if there is a season 3 and they bring Izzy back for an ep or 2 as a ghost like that’s worse they get how that’s worse right

[callmemars17]

some sweet ed/izzy for an art trade

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anywayyyyy can someone give me some good steddyhands fic recs pls and thank youuuuu

[callmemars17]

just found the courage to watch the finale episode …

i actually didn’t hate it. i cried, and i’m so so sad that the writers decided to take that route, but i actually liked the way it happened in the end

the mutual apologies, the you’ve got nothing to apologize for, all the tears … it actually felt sad and respectful, i don’t know

[callmemars17]

is anyone else seeing this

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OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

2.04 Fun and Games

[callmemars17]

Proving a point to my boyfriend.

PLEASE REBLOG if you (male or female) believe it is perfectly okay and natural for a guy of any age to cry

[callmemars17]

i do not ghost purposely i just have no idea what to say ever

[callmemars17]

Falling in love

I think I was 6 the first time I fell in love We met in the playground And I don´t remember what you were wearing but you say I was wearing a red dress with teddy bears I wish I remembered I hate that my brain remembers everything single unimportant thing, I remember every damned conversation I’ve had in my life, But I don’t remember what you wore when I met you. I remember you being kind, and smiling, and taller than me, and how you were so easy to befriend. I remember your blond hair, exactly the same color as mine, and I remember your baby face.

I don´t remember falling out of love with you.

I loved you when we were 12. I loved you when we were sleeping in the same tiny bunk bed on that school trip, When we giggled, and our noses touched, and our teacher told us to be quiet. Do you think the teacher is still awake? Yes, I´m awake. Giggles, always so many giggles. We rode the same rollercoast two times. I think I remember us holding hands. I think I fell in love with a boy somewhere along the way.

We were 14 and maybe I didn’t fall in love with him, Maybe I fell in love with the ideia that he liked me. But then I didn´t love the way that he liked to touch me when I didn’t want him to, Where I didn’t want him to, And how he always said sorry after. And you told me I was too good for that. And then I should’ve fallen in love with this other boy, Who was so kind, and so respectful, and too good to be true. But I didn’t, because I was in love with you, And you were in love with some other tall, nice boy.

I was still 14 and still in love with you, Still too young to really appreciate how easy it was to talk to you, How rare that is, How I would never meet someone again who made me fell like that. Confortable, Heard, Safe. I always say I can’t really talk to people because I’m to shy. I always felt like I could talk to you. I was always in love with you.

We were still 14, close to 15 now. Still on the same bed, on a different school trip. I held your hand on the plane because you hated the take off, and the landing too. I remember switching seats to sit next to you on that plane. I was supposed to be sat next to that too good boy, I would rather just hold your hand. I remember the tears because September meant a new school, New friends, more classes, less you. I have so many memories I couldn’t write them all in all the paper in the world. Instead I drew little snails on all your notebooks. I was so in love with you.

I was still in love with you when we were 19. We basically never saw each other, we were to busy, You were learning to sculpt even though you preferred drawing, And I was leaning to stitch other people’s fingers but never my own heart. We met up and it was summer, And you were late and I would’ve waited for you forever. And you looked so pretty, And we talked for hours, About our lives, and love, and queerness, and how scared I am to just be me.

And then I think I fell in love with some boy in university, And he was so nice, And hugged me when I had a panic attack, And I felt like he saw me. It fizzled out quick, because he didn’t love me back, And I loved my memories of you more.

We’re 21 now. We never see each other. We talk sometimes. The last time I saw you we were on a public transport, And I was dead on my feet because I hadn’t slept well, And I was too tired to really talk to you about real things. I wish I had slept well that night. The last time we talked was when you answered my insta story, And you said my dress was so beautiful. Some time before that, you had said that we should meet up some time, I said I couldn’t wait! I´m still waiting.

And I know you have a girlfriend, And you look so happy, And I´m so happy for you.

I´m just sad for me, Cause it’s my fault I’ve always been too scared, And you've always been so brave. But I loved you, And I think I always will.

[callmemars17]

Credit: liamdrawsdrag on Instagram

[callmemars17]

Fact: Today (September 23rd) is bisexuality awareness day. Be aware of bisexuals. They are dangerous.

[callmemars17]

What is or isn’t a slur can be highly contextual, y'all.

“Jonny Sims bummed a fag off my ma” doesn’t contain a slur, but “What are you, some kind of fag?” does.

“Queer studies”, “the queer community” and “I’m queer”? Not a slur. Some bigot calling you a “dirty queer”? Slur.

“Be gay, do crimes” and “He’s gay” ≠ slur, but “Ew, that’s so gay” = slur.

In conclusion, stop buying into this fucking “q slur” bullshit. Queer people talking about the queer community aren’t using it as a slur any more than a gay man calling himself gay is using that term as a slur.

[callmemars17]

Could you pretty please do 30 + Jasco any AU you want?

Of course hun! Here's a bit of espionage au, since I haven't done much of that recently. Enjoy!

30. “are you jealous? cause it’s really cute.”

___

Bosco knew Jasmine was wearing that gown on purpose. 

There was no other explanation for the red velvet clinging to her waist and hips, the slit scaling up her thigh, and the low cut, practically begging for Bosco’s all too valuable attention. 

Even viewed on the grainy tv-screen, monitoring Jasmine weaving through the crowd, searching for a man with a bow tie, a watch chain tucked neatly into his coat pocket, and knowledge reserved for few outside of the U.S. government, Jasmine still was devilish. 

“You’d better be ready,” Daya said, voice gruff as she switched the screens to the office around the back of the mansion, currently manned by four armed guards. “I’m going to send you in approximately seven minutes.” 

“You insult me.” Bosco fixes the strap on their holster, which only makes them think about the straps Jasmine surely has under that dress, pressing a knife against her thigh. Just in case, of course. But if she needed to use it, Bosco taught her well. 

“Don’t act like you’re entirely focused,” Daya shot back. “Especially as you’re reaching for the control. Trying to switch the screen back to Jasmine.” 

“I’m just trying to make sure she’s safe is all.” Bosco clicked back to the main ballroom, finding Jasmine dancing with the target’s mistress. Her hand pressed against her waist, fingers delicately brushing the certainly hand-spun lace there. And her other hand graced the woman’s cheek, surely leaving a blush as Jasmine trailed downward, traipsing across her collar bone. 

Bosco grunted and went back to their preparations. If they could keep their head down, focus on their training, really, focus on every aggravation Jasmine had caused them over the years, the desolation and pain they’d felt at the knowledge that Jasmine was the only other soul on earth who knew them now, they could steady themself for the next portion of the mission. 

But of course Bosco had to look up again. And of course Jasmine’s lips had to press to this woman’s neck. And the snort they let out at the sight had to catch Daya’s attention. 

“Are you jealous, dear Bosco?” Daya’s voice raised an octave, her lips curling at the end of her question, which Bosco knew from their flushing cheeks and fumbling hands wasn’t much of a question at all. With a poke of the nose, Daya added “Cause it’s really cute.” 

“There’s nothing to be jealous about.” Bosco kept their voice firm. “She’s doing her job. Smart, you know. Getting through to the target through his mistress.” 

“But you wish she were getting through to you, right?” 

“I mainly wish you’d give me the specs for the safe so I can crack it and finish this mission.” Bosco looked again, relieved to find Jasmine had fled from the woman and was now finding her way toward the back of the mansion, where Bosco would meet her in moments. “And wish you were quick, because Jasmine’s almost in the position.” 

With the specs bounding through their head, Bosco set off. And though they tried to focus on the mission, focus on sedating the guards and unlocking the safe, they allowed themself to steal a glance at Jasmine from across the hallway. Their careful steps were no rival for their careful eyes. 

And as Jasmine sent a poison tipped dart into a guard’s neck, the man tumbling at the blow, Bosco felt a warmth prickle their chest. 

It was possible that Daya was right. Not that they’d care to admit it.