#BOOO TOMATO TOMATO

[carebooks]

to all those new comers to the Percy Jackson world and being off on shipping Percabeth because Poseidon and Athena are uncle and niece, it’s stated in the books (specifically The Lost Hero) that gods don’t have DNA the way humans do.

and if that still doesn’t convince you or you may think it’s not a real or valuable explanation, let’s recall other ways that births happen in both greek myths and the Riordanverse:

- Zeus birthed Athena from his brain

- Athena’s demigod children are born the same way. out of her mind. so Annabeth is already way off from the usual goddess birth route

- Zeus also birthed Dionysus from his thigh

- Hephaestus was born from Hera and Zeus, but in a lot of versions its actually Hera who just had him by herself. she got pregnant and it happened. they’re gods. (then chucked him down a mountain) again, they’re gods.

- Hebe, goddess of youth, was born from Hera and a piece lettuce she ate

- in the Trials of Apollo, we learn that Kayla Knowles, daughter of Apollo, has a human father, Darren. meaning she has two fathers: Darren and Apollo. no mother involved in her creation whatsoever.

- Zeus has impregnated quite a large number of people during his time and in various different forms. one of the weirdest ones by far was when he came to a queen in the form of a swan, embraced her as that swan and nine months later she gave birth to two eggs. they hatched and inside was Helen of Sparta (as in Helen of Troy), Clytemnestra, Castur and Pollox.

- Poseidon and Medusa had a child and that child was born from Perseus cutting off Medusa’s head. that child was Pegasus. (yes, that Pegasus) (also some other dude was born too)

- Aphrodite was born out of sea foam made from the severed genitals of Ouranos that fell to the oceans

have i convinced you already? are we done here?

[maidenofscorchinglight]

posing could be better but i liked how this turned out yuppp #positivity

[nipchip]

I burned myself when I took a tray out of the oven the burn spot looks like I was attacked by something not gonna lie 🎀🧙‍♂️

[ninasimsimma]

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

With Thanksgiving coming up soon, it's time to introduce Stephan Powell, and his messy baggage that comes along with him.

Steph is a man of many talents, that being a now retired, hall of fame recipient basketball player. However, being faithful was never his specialty. Though his relationship to Monica Jacquard was mainly a PR stunt to fix their image in their younger years, no one expected marriage and kids...especially after most knew Steph to be a playboy.

And an undercover playboy he was throughout the entire marriage. As the years progressed Monica knew something was wrong, but stayed strong and kept a brave face for publicity reasons of course.

It wasn't until recent years where Steph's faults started to catch up with him. From being seen with models around the same age as his own daughter, to reports and whispers of a secret child, Monica decided to secretly separate from Steph, but keep up appearances with him for the family and the public.

The news of his infidelity died down a bit, but not news of his secret child. Tabloids begin to report findings of an affair that happened between an exotic dancer and a basketball player in the late 90s...and the pieces begin to fall in place for the smartest of journalists.

This news left the family swaying paparazzi from every angle...a child that's around the same age as your other kids! From public outbursts, and meltdowns from all parties involved, of course a messy divorce followed through.

Now being divorced from Steph for nearly two years, Monica tries to put the pieces of her life together...not only for herself but for the sake of her family...

pictured above from left to right:

Courtney Coleman (Stephan's "secret" child),

Clarissa "Cherish" Coleman (Stephan's ex-mistress),

Stephan Powell

Monica Jacquard (Stephan's ex-wife)

Malcolm Bradford (multi-millionaire, Monica's new boyfriend)

[voidzphere]

Maybe you wouldn't be harassed if you never harassed people in the first place! And also if you didnt support it, which you clearly did by posting the list!! You are a very hateful person have you considered being nice and kind and caring before? Or are you too wrapped up in hurting people to do that

yeah lol ^_^ i have a lot of hate for a lot of people xoxo

alzo posting a blocklist iznt harassing. people make blockliztz for a reason, and thatz to BLOCK PEOPLE. it'z in the name. not a harasslist.

plus i dont know why we're still talkin about this when

i didnt make the list. an anon did

itz been two dayz now. go outside

the fact you're validating the fact im getting harassed because of that sayz a lot about you

[accultant]

"Do you honestly believe that you are funny? Tell me your best joke!"

Iago raises an eyebrow slightly, having no memory of such claims. "If you're trying to fish for more material, I'm afraid you're not being very subtle about it."

But the book they were drudging through was getting dull anyway. They make a show of slowly placing a bookmark and setting it to the side before they acknowledge the bard again,

" There was this clock maker, right? Horologist, if you're pretentious. He had a massive storefront - for clocks and watches, of course. I don't need to hold your hand through this, do I? Anyway, this shop was his pride and joy- much to the dismay of his only son, who was severely lacking in both parental attention and passion for his father's craft. He couldn't care less about the timepieces his father dedicated his life to. Which was rather unfortunate, considering the shop was left in to him when the elder passed away. The clock maker's son was reasonably distraught. They had their differences, but ultimately, he did care for his father. In his defense, he did try. He attempted to perform the repairs his father taught him- though he more often than not ended up damaging the timepieces even worse. He couldn't create anything from a pile of gears and springs, but he could slap a shiny new price tag on his late father's masterpieces.

" It stayed afloat for a while, but just barely. And the clock maker's son was tired. He didn't feel the same obligation as time went on, he didn't care for the craft, he simply wanted to be done with it all. None of the work was selling. The only thing that was selling was the storefront itself, prime real estate that was being ogled by every starry-eyed self-starter in the city.

" So, he caved. It was a matter of time, really. He had been wanting to throw those things into firewood since he first became an angsty, neglected teen all those years ago. It was freeing, in a way, when he started to lug them out into the courtyard nearby to burn once they had all been added to the mass. A metaphorical funeral pyre, if you wish to be morbid.

" But as he nearly broke his back moving one of his father's largest clocks - a beautiful grandfather, golden tinted inlays, chimes like a funeral toll every hour, you know -, a lovely voice called out to him. It was a woman, around his age, I'm sure you can imagine where this goes. She gushed about it's beauty, it's craftsmanship. The clock maker's son only ever saw it as trash, but when she asked to take it home, she batted her eyes and he couldn't refuse.

" Then, to his delight, she returned the next day. The pile of garbage was ever-growing, but she took a pocket watch from the mess. The day after that, a simple wall clock. She kept returning as he built his pyre until eventually, he asked to court her for an evening. Their relationship budded quickly, like it was always meant to be."

They pause and spare Tryck a glance, " Bards like that kind of thing, right? True love and whatnot? Well, it was like that.

" She adored him and he abandoned his monumental task night after night to see her. The trash pile of clocks and watches was left alone in favor of quality time and romance. It would need to be taken care of soon, as it was becoming a bit of an eyesore for the courtyard, but he didn't even hesitate to accept her invitations to dinners and parties and, most excitedly, a grand ball. He hadn't realized she was of such high class to be attending something like that, so he had to really clean up.

" And clean up he did. He was dashing and fit right in at the ball. He might've had two left feet, but the woman didn't seem to mind. They danced all evening. He planned to tell her he loved her that night, under the moon, perhaps on the balcony. Something romantic.

" But he was nervous- she was nobility. He was nothing but a clock maker's son with an abandoned pyre and a half-emptied storefront. His palms were sweating when he excused himself, offering to get them both something to drink. It was a fabulous ball, mind you, the spread of refreshments was quite impressive. He even had to wait behind a few other party goers as the table was quite congested. This time was used to calm his nerves, slow his racing heart.

" But you know how these parties tend to be. He couldn't help but overhear the gossip. The people around him, all a higher class than he ever dreamed of being himself, spoke about relationships and scandals. Literature and music. And one particular conversation piece that stood out- everyone seemed to be gushing about the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. The way they described it, the son had no doubt that it was his father's, the same one the woman took home with her the day they met.

" Hearing such kind words about his late father's work brought unexpected tears to his eyes. He was touched. He felt like a fool for letting himself give up on his father's art so easily. But then another line of gossip met his ears just as he neared the drinks table.

" 'The Lady of the house here has played the son for a fool, you know. He fawns over her like a lovesick boy and all the while she's bringing such lovely works back home, furnishing it before her husband returns from his time away. For not even a copper! And he's such a collector himself that he won't even be bothered by her methods. I hear she plans to drop the clock maker's son as soon as he returns, anyway.'

" It was gut-wrenching. He felt his world, the one he had begun to dream of, at least, fall apart in an instant. And there was that incessant tick-tock-tick-tock that seemed amplified now that his attention was drawn to it. How could he have missed it before? Every wall was adorned with another timepiece, another work of art that was unmistakenly his father's. And in the middle of it all, the woman who had ripped his heart in two, was across the ballroom, showing off her latest pocket watch.

" The clock maker's son couldn't take it. He couldn't stand to hear one more tick. He was a fool to let himself be distracted, he decided. He would finish his work, his destruction. She would never complete her collection because the pyre he had abandoned would soon be in flames as it was always meant to be. Garbage, it was all garbage! Trash!

" Someone from behind asked him if he was going to get a drink, snapping him back to the present. He had work to do. He ran out into the night, fueled by rage and heartbreak with only one goal in mind.

" He left the love of his life, fled from the party, and most notably,"

They fix a blank stare at Trick, their voice deadpan, "He abandoned the punch line, turning instead to his reinvigorated dedication to wasting time."

[aohisworld]

“Jungwon, how could you think that way?” Aohi whispered, both of her hands placed on either side of his face. “How could we be so selfish to love each other like this?”

Jungwon’s helpless, he doesn’t know where to focus his gaze, is it to Aohi’s eyes, as her tears fall in crystal droplets? Her quivering lips, how they hesitate to move?

Why does he still think she’s so beautiful like this?

“Don’t you want to? Don’t you want us to love each other?” Jungwon whispers, his hand hesitantly covering Aohi’s in a warmth she hates to love.

“I could never ask for that,” She whispers, and even as it hurts to tell him the same things, Aohi continues.

“I’ve never been a selfish person, Won,” A small swipe of her thumb is made under the boy’s eyes, and Aohi ignores the burn his tears make on her skin.

“That’s why we can’t.. because I refuse to want something so selfish, something like loving you.”

- MAGNETIC PULSE, 03. SUNOO’S REVELATION.

[ftmtftm]

All these identity gymnastics. Ever consider you're just an awkward autistic lady? There's no shame in that.

Have you ever considered how many better ways there are to spend the limited time we have on this Earth than acting so entitled to the identity of a stranger like this? Especially without even showing your own face?

That's not "concern" or "conversation" or even "debate". That's just cowardly condescension, and you're extremely lame for that.

[gifti3]

Everytime they do this i lose a braincell

[amzyspinkarch]

Jang Han Seok: the one who will leave here is the man that connected to his younger self

Me:.

[americanhamham]

Romeo 😮‼️‼️‼️

[lilucey]

Mind ya business Cody…..

[danothan]

you guys wanna see a really great joke

barry

barrier

barriest

[sp1cychamm0y]

tumblr you are killing me

[soft-girl-musings]

big mad i forgot about my haircare subscription, i have 4 dollars until friday 🫠

[middledaughter]

MEN *shaking fist at the sky*