but i had no ideas whatsoever

ig this might be due to being gay being a big part of my identity and sense of self but the idea of a fictional utopia where sexual orientation basically doesn’t exist and everyone just likes who they like is just very alienating to me. representation politics are very weird and flawed but if we’re going to get into the types of characters i identify with in media and who’ve had a long lasting positive impact on me, they aren’t ones who just so happen to be involved with other men without it being addressed whatsoever, they’re specifically and culturally gay and that’s a part of their character and narrative. the idea of losing that for this weird, theoretical, enlightened society where same gender sex or romance just happens by chance without ever being something important or specific just makes me feel very weird and sad.

I don’t know what was more embarrassing

1. The fact Donald Trump, even for his inaugural address, showed, at best, a sixth grade mastery of the English language - using words with no more than two syllables and making no attempt to use segues or transition between ideas so that his speech had no flow whatsoever, like his ideas about space travel were immediately followed by ideas about race, but like with no linguistic divider so it was like “we are standing at a new age of space exploration and eradicating diseases. And as our soldiers tells us, doesn’t matter if you’re black, brown, or white - we all bleed the same red blood of patriotism.” It was THAT choppy. It made no sense, none of it meshed because it was a word salad without that was clearly made by someone with the inability to properly create a coherent train of thought.

2. Him waiting to hear roaring applause and getting… *crickets*

3. His fucking Kim Jong-un moment where he tries to start a chant by loudly exclaiming “America first” twice and then sadly realizing no one is joining in and stops.

4. Orrrrrr the fact it started raining as soon as he started walking up to the podium, as if god himself were weeping. Lmao…. we’re really all gonna die.

the first time I ever played a Dragon Age game it was Origins and I rolled a Mahariel and the game opens with you and Tamlen chasing off these humans and I had no idea what any of the lore meant whatsoever but I was getting into it like

Tamlen: you shemlen need to stay out of Dalish lands!!

Me: YEAH! FUCK OFF, SHEMLEN! (hey psst Tamlen what the fuck is a shemlen)

@roadswewalk I wish I had any photoshop skills whatsoever! This is a lovely idea…I hope you won’t mind that I ran with it:


Home again. Sherlock is alone, or he’s supposed to be. John has placed him on twenty-four hour watch, and taken the first shift himself. He’s sat Sherlock down in his chair, and placed a mug of tea at his left elbow, but he won’t sit, won’t talk. He shuffles around in the kitchen, fussing about with a bag he picked up at Boots. 

Sherlock’s whole body is a mass of aching withdrawal and bruises. He is a walking, breathing pang. He doesn’t want to take paracetamol, or whatever else John has arranged for him to have. He wants to crawl every inch of his recovery on his own. He can’t allow whatever help John is preparing to offer.  

John clears his throat. He hovers in the kitchen doorway, his left hand clenching and releasing. 

His right hand is coiled into a fist. No: his fingers are curled around something. A small bottle, a vial. Sherlock’s stomach flips, as his mind whispers sweet possibilities. What will he say, if John offers him a top-up, a little something to ease the pain?

No. The answer has to be no. Besides, John would never. John is here to watch him, to make sure he doesn’t use. What, then? 

Sherlock shifts in his chair. The small movement sets his nerves to screaming, but he won’t complain. For John, he’ll breathe through each moment. 

For John, he will speak, will try to break whatever stalemate this is. “Won’t you sit down?”

“Mm.” A non-answer. 

Sherlock wills himself to continue through this moment, and the next. He picks up the mug, deliberately, lifts it to his mouth, and sips tea. He waits. He has no choice.

“I wonder–” John starts. He stares at the empty air behind Sherlock. Shakes his head. Rubs his eyes. 

“Yes?” 

Sherlock wonders, not for the first time, how things became so strained between them. He knows. Of course he does: too much damage, too much heartache, too many words unspoken. 

John shakes his head, walks stiffly to the desk, and pulls out the hardbacked chair. He places it inches away from Sherlock’s chair, and sits. So close, so quickly. Sherlock blinks at his tea, risks a glance at John’s face. John is looking down at his right hand. His fingers uncoil. Sherlock frowns at what he sees there. 

Nail polish. Sea Blue. 

When John speaks, his voice is gruff. “Hold out your hand.”

“John, I assure you, I am in need of many things, but a manicure is not one of them.”

John shakes his head. “No. We’re doing this.” He shakes the bottle, much more vigorously than necessary. He unscrews the cap, rests the bottle on the arm of the chair, and removes the brush, careful not to let it drip. He holds out his hand for Sherlock’s. 

Sherlock places the mug carefully on the side table. His hands are inclined to shake. He tries to keep still as he offers his left hand, his palm resting on John’s. John paints a swath of nail polish over Sherlock’s thumbnail. Sherlock sighs. The sensation is pleasant. Cool, in contrast to the heat of John’s hand. 

“Not that I mind, John, but are you going to tell me why?” He can’t help asking. The silence is too intense, too monumental. He shudders as John works on his index finger. 

“Withdrawal. You’re going to start to itch soon,” John says. His voice is whisper soft. He follows the ritual he’s established for himself: dipping the brush, shifting his hand under Sherlock’s to hold him still, running the brush over the nail of Sherlock’s middle finger, then his ring finger. 

“And?”

“The nail polish is bright, and your nails will feel a bit different to you. I’m hoping it will serve as a reminder not to scratch. No good going through withdrawal if you come out on the other end with all your skin hanging off.”

Sherlock chuckles, his voice low. His skin already feels like it’s hanging off. It would make no difference to him, if he stripped it all raw, but he will try not to, for John.

John finishes with Sherlock’s left hand. He leans over it, his thumb running over Sherlock’s skin, and blows a light stream of air over the nails. 

Sherlock closes his eyes, feeling John’s breath on him, and the warmth that builds in his belly, and the relief from the pain he holds inside him. 

It’s temporary, but so very welcome. 

“The other hand, then,” John says.

Sherlock shifts in the chair, his whole body turning toward John, so he can offer his right hand. John leans over this hand as well, and he is so close, inches away from Sherlock. Sherlock breathes John in: the scent of the pomade he’s taken to wearing, ever since he allowed his hair to grow longer. The faint scent of toothpaste. It’s all bathed in the much stronger scent of the nail polish: butyl acetate; ethyl acetate. Overripe banana and pear, mixing with the stench of toluene. Not nearly enough to get high on. 

“Do you really think this will work?” Sherlock asks. He casts his eyes down to watch John work. John is hardly himself, hasn’t been himself for years, Sherlock knows, but at least he still has good, steady hands. It’s something. It’s a lot. Maybe, even, enough to start something new. 

John finishes painting the nails of Sherlock’s right hand. He purses his lips and blows air across them as well. Sherlock shivers. 

John frowns as he screws the lid back on the bottle. He puts it on the desk behind him. Sherlock holds up his hands to admire them. 

“I hope you like the colour,” John says. “Matches your dressing gown.” Not answering Sherlock’s question. Evasive. John is still sitting in the chair, inches away. To Sherlock’s surprise, he shifts forward, and his knee presses into Sherlock’s thigh. 

Sherlock sighs. “It’s…nice. It looks nice.” He wiggles his fingers. It does. 

John sighs raggedly. He takes Sherlock’s hand in his again. This time, he turns it over. He leans in. He presses his cheek to Sherlock’s palm. 

Sherlock is unable to move, unable to speak. John’s eyes are screwed shut. He rubs his cheek against Sherlock’s hand, the first hint of afternoon stubble scratching Sherlock’s skin, his fingertips. John presses his lips to Sherlock’s wrist, kisses his pulse point. 

“Please remember,” John says. “Don’t hurt yourself. Please don’t hurt yourself any more.” 

They hold there for a long moment. A tear escapes from the inside corner of John’s left eye, makes a track down his face. Sherlock is turning inside out, his whole world coalescing down into his hand, into John, into the shade of blue that adorns his nails. 

“I won’t, John. I won’t.”

“Ramsey.”

“Bruce,” Geoff says as he holds the phone to his ear. “I didn’t know you even had my number.” The words were casual but the accusation underneath was not missed.

“I got it from a friend.”

“And who-”

“We need your help,” Bruce interrupts, his tone firm and not betraying any further intentions though Geoff could tell immediately something was up.

“And what makes you think we’re going to provide you any help? I thought you would ‘rather lose your dick than accept help from us’ if I remember the conversation right.”

Bruce doesn’t react, doesn’t correct Geoff that that wasn’t what he said and Geoff frowns in concern. Clearly Bruce wasn’t fucking around. This was serious.

“We need your help. They have Elyse.”

Geoff takes a sharp intake of breath, face hardening. Geoff starts trying to calculate what weapons they have, how many people he can spare at this moment, how fast he could get there-

“What do you need us to do?” Geoff says, already preparing himself to do whatever is necessary to help.

anonymous asked:

Do you use default replacements in the uber cute Bickley House? Because I had to enable custom content to be able to see it on the gallery.

Nope, I had no CC and no mods in my game whatsoever while I was creating and uploading that house so I have no idea why it’s marked as having CC, so annoying.

As soon as you place it though you can see that nothing’s missing or been replaced so I dunno. I’ve seen other people complaining about the same issue though so I think it might be just a gallery bug or something =/

Why does this show have such a hard-on for Damon?!?!?

They act like he has NO agency whatsoever, and that every single season they can go back and blame Stefan for all the sh-t he’s done. I have no idea why they think STEFAN is the one who is supposed to be asking for forgiveness (for the 100th time). It’s like everything Damon does is blamed on either Stefan or Katherine because supposedly Damon of the last 150 years has had absolutely 0 control over his own actions.

And to bring back Tyler and Vicky in some glorified “we must forgive Damon” episode, pls save me from this hell hole.

I get Bonnie forgiving him (barely) but to gather everyone and watch them all shed tears over this man that they’ve had legitimate reasons to hate for 8+ years is unbelievable. Why can’t this show just accept that Damon is a villain instead of kissing his ass every season and forgiving him for his numerous crimes.

Theory: What if Rika Had a Wish? And Met the Wizard?

[MAJOR SPOILERS FOR MYSTIC MESSENGER AND DANDELION] 

WARNING: This theory SPOILS the secret endings of both of these games. Please do not read if you have no idea what happens in them. 


It’s easy to know exactly what kind of wish Rika would desire: a wish where everyone will be able to live in peace without any hurt and pain. 

From what we learn in the secret endings, we learn that Rika was the one to found Mint Eye in the first place. The reason? To create an organisation whose aim is to spread happiness among all it’s members and to invite others to join them in this everlasting party. 

Now… we know for certain that Rika was crazy enough to the point where she would even drug innocent people *cough* Saeran *cough* in order to forcefully follow her ideals of a perfect world. 

As much as Rika damaged the majority of the RFA members, in my personal opinion, many people in the fandom still don’t understand the fact that she’s a victim of mental sickness. I mean, the poor woman even knew herself she was ill and tried to warn V. 

Take a look at this screenshot:

This statement is alarming. By a lot. Like, a lot. 

Rika is a Catholic, and judging her saying, this shows she has completely lost hope in even her own Savior. Her own God. Now what if…

She met the Wizard before these chain of events happened?  


I’ll retell the theory in a simpler way, so imagine this scenario is set before she meets V:

  • Rika hopes for a world full of peace and no harm
  • She gets absorbed into this hope, and eventually this hope in turn, becomes a desperate wish. 
  • This wish whisks her away to the Wizard.
  • Introductions are made. And the Wizard finally asks Rika her wish.
  • However, instead of fulfilling Rika’s desire, he refuses to grant it
  • Why? 

Well, think about it. There are two reasons for this:

1) It would perhaps take up a large supply of energy to grant this wish. As much as it may cost ALL of Rika’s memories, it still wouldn’t be enough due to the fact that her wish applies to EVERY SINGLE HUMAN BEING ON EARTH (maybe even including the cats and rabbits from the Grimm Continent as well as the dolls with living souls in them). 

  • Basically, this means she could lose all of her memories of everyone around her (like loved ones) since her wish is related to them (because she has the need for everyone to live in peace). But it still wouldn’t be enough.   
  • This wish is very big and Rika’s memories alone wouldn’t be able to sustain the amount of energy the Wizard would need in order to carry out this wish. 

2) Remember that if the Wizard were to be involved in Mysme, and he still had his powers, MysMe would be set either BEFORE or DURING the competition of Dandelion (since the Wizard loses his powers in the end). 

  • Granting this wish could mean losing all the progress he made into hosting the animals’ competition. His goal is to make Heejung suffer through the confusion of why her lover is gone. Thus, finally gaining a wish that will lead her to him. 
  • The keyword is there: “Suffer”
  • Meaning, if the Wizard were to grant Rika’s wish, he would lose the chance to meet Heejung face-to-face since she wouldn’t be suffering and making a wish due to the help of Rika’s own wish.

So he rejects the idea, and sends her back to her world without taking away her memories of their meeting. 

  • This would leave Rika agitated, and wondering why her wish has been ignored by the Wizard, the being himself who claims his job is to grant any desperate wish, and even having the power to raise the dead.
  • This leads her to being diagnosed with mental illness, and thinking that no one will be able to understand her. Somewhere along the way, she meets V for the first time. 
  • She plans forming Mint Eye with the idea of thinking that she is able to carry out peace through the method of drugging people .-. However, V is unaware of this. 
  • V finally finds out about her illness. And she says, “Even God can’t save me”, showing that she’s still sane enough to know she is mentally crazy and ill. 
  • And this is where her line is assuming that no one, absolutely no one, can help her now that the Wizard has rejected her wish
  • And this all happens due to the Wizard refusing to grant her wish.  

I will be splitting this theory into two parts, so the next part will be explaining the timelines of Dandelion and Mystic Messenger and how they line up in relation to Rika’s story. 

NOTE: Please know it is very important to let me know if there are any flaws in my post. If there are any, please don’t be afraid to inform me :) If anyone has any theories or thoughts around this theory, any of the Cheritz games or pretty much anything else, please feel free to share them to me ^.^ 

I still can’t believe that while Yuuri was freaking out and in a slump and depressed as hell and considering retirement he had not one but two of Russia’s champions loving him and wanting him to keep skating

and he just had no idea whatsoever

Confessions (Bucky x Reader)

Word Count: 1,500

A/N: kk guys so i have like no ideas at all like whatsoever so ur going to just have to deal w the bs i post until one of ya’ll sends me a request 

                When you finally got together with Bucky, as an official couple, you expected him to tell at least Steve. It had been a couple months now, and when you two were by yourselves, it was amazing. He would treat you like a princess, he never stopped smiling, he would always be touching you, someway, somehow. His hand was glued to either your waist, the small of your back, the back of your neck, or your shoulders. He just loved having the human contact.  

               But when you two were with the team, he barely looked at you. You were lucky if you got a single smile in a whole session. You had tried to sit next to him, but he refused to put his arm close to you or around you, and it was starting to make you angry. You knew that he could do better, but you hadn’t known how ashamed he really was of you. He wouldn’t even let his friends know about you.

Keep reading

10

8½ (1963) - Dir. Federico Fellini

“I thought my ideas were so clear. I wanted to make an honest film. No lies whatsoever. I thought I had something so simple to say. Something useful to everybody. A film that could help bury forever all those dead things we carry within ourselves. Instead, I’m the one without the courage to bury anything at all. When did I go wrong? I really have nothing to say, but I want to say it all the same.”

anonymous asked:

22 for andreil!! I love your writing

fic meme 1-100: andreil + 22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

send me a pairing (preferably from aftg/trc) and a number and i’ll write you a drabble (1-50) (51-100)

Keep reading

Imagine somebody asking you if you knew who Dan Howell and Phil Lester were and you had no idea who or what this person was talking about. Imagine living in a world where cat whiskers and microwaves had no significant meaning behind them whatsoever. Scary thought right? Before I found Dan and Phil I had quit everything. I stopped dancing, I stopped twirling baton, I didn’t even apply to college. I had given up. I actually wanted to just stop existing. Then, December of 2015 I had come across the Japan haul video. Little did I know that would change my life forever. After watching it, I had thought that they were pretty funny so I decided to watch some of their other videos. I had become addicted. I felt as if I had found my best friends through a computer screen. Dan and Phil have taught me to never give up no matter how hard life gets. They inspired me to dance and twirl again, as well as go back to school. Fast forward a year later…I was California state champion in baton twirling and dance, I had got accepted into my dream university, and I had got accepted into a dance program that I had auditioned for. Honestly I am probably the happiest I have been in a while. So thank you Dan and Phil. Thank you for giving me my drive and motivation back. I have no idea where I would be without you.

anonymous asked:

tell us about yourself! whats your zodiac sign? do you have hobbies? how long have you been playing pokemon? what other fandoms are you a part of? other games you play? ps I love the blog, friend !!

Oh wow okay, I love it when people want to know things about me! Anyways, I was born on October 23rd so I’m on the cusp of being a Libra and a Scorpio (and I don’t really get into it beyond that); I’ve always personally considered myself a Scorpio but I can see myself being either. 

I have no hobbies whatsoever and have been playing Pokemon long enough that I had to use logic rather than memory to realize when I began (which was October 23rd, 2000, my parents bought me Silver for my birthday). I was a Pokemon fan before that though, and I have no idea when how or why I actually got into the Pokemon series itself. I’ve only been into competitive battling as a concept since 2011 and genuinely since 2012 though. 

I was obviously joking about hobbies, clearly I like playing video games and watching anime/tv/movies and whatnot, I also love drawing, writing, and cooking but am hopelessly inept at all three, and I actually think that’s about it unless you count just talking to people as well.

I’m into a lot of other games series and shows but when I get down to it I think Pokemon is the only actual fandom that I’m a part of since I don’t really talk to anyone about other stuff I’m into. With that said, I like Fire Emblem (most of the time), Zelda, Kirby, Xenoblade (sort of), Ace Attorney, Final Fantasy, a bunch of assorted anime, Star vs the Forces of Evil, and a few others I may be forgetting. 

As far as other games I play I kind of answered that already; I’m not too into non-Nintendo games (since you can summarize almost all of them with the phrase “angry white man with stubble shoots things”), Final Fantasy (and I guess Ace Attorney if you wanna be strict) is about as non-Nintendo as I get. 

Anyways, thanks a bunch for the ask! 

Day 1 (February 19, 2017): Sunday, February 19: Write about what your aromantic / aro spec identity means to you. This can include your experience finding the identity that feels the most right to you, and can absolutely involve disclosing what your identity is (though, of course, that is not required).

To start off, Happy Aromantic/Arospec awareness week everyone ! 

I’ve been looking forward to this for a while. Finding out I was on the aro spectrum, was honestly such a huge relief to me. I never understood why I felt differently than anyone else, and I always thought there was something wrong with me. I found out which label fit me best back in october. Up until then I had no idea whatsoever what aromanticism even was, or that it even existed.Since then,  I’ve always just said I’m aro, using it as more than just the umbrella term. I originally told someone I was ace, and then looking up the definitiion realized it fit. From there I also learned about aromanticism, and found out that hey, that explains exactly how I feel too. 

Recently I sort of realized that I’m still on the aromantic spectrum, just not fully at one part of the spectrum. I realized that the term Frayromantic explained exactly how I used to experience romantic attraction as well. So at this point, I use aromantic as both an umbrella term, and to explain how I experience romantic attraction now.  It’s taken me a while to accept that I’m different from everyone else, and I still struggle with it a lot, especially when I see some people being so negative about it as a whole.  I don’t know where I belong, but I’m happy to have finally found why I’m different.

Beyoncé came to the studio, and I was sitting at the piano when I met her. She was just lovely. I came up with something to go with an idea she had; I just embellished her melody. I think the idea was to use some of her lyrics, but I didn’t realize that—I misunderstood and did something entirely different from what she wanted. But it didn’t matter, because she really liked it, and they ended up using [my version]. Blue Ivy was there, too, which was nice. She was singing along to the song, which was a huge compliment, because kids just don’t have any pretense whatsoever.
—  James Blake and the Pursuit of Happiness: “How did the Lemonade feature go down?”
Imagine having to spend a long car ride with the Winchesters and Crowley...

It wasn’t that you hated the king of hell, simply that there was nothing in this entire world that you disliked more than that slimey smirk. It’d been that same smirk you’d woken up to the day you’d found your closest friend had in fact not been your friend at all, that she’d had a demon using her as a vessel for the past month. It was blind luck you’d survived that day at all, Crowley hadn’t been interested in you, only in the demon inside your friend but being the spare pawn you were, you’d managed to slip away reasonably unnoticed. It’d been too late for her and before that day, you had never thought yourself one to hold a grudge, but Crowley? No, you spoke truthfully, you didn’t hate him - you outright despised him.

So, knowing this what better than to spend an 8 hours in a confined space with him?

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you wiped up some spilled water off the basin and plopped your bag in the sink. Dean had gotten pissed at you last time you’d attempted to do your make up in his ‘baby’, and the mirror of the crappy port-a-loo wasn’t exactly dressing room quality, but it was enough to adjust your make up. A girl had to allow herself a few luxuries like that even on the road and it just happened to be an added bonus that it gave you a few minutes away from Crowley. You took your time, applying your make up with precision that you’d usually only save for… well, you wouldn’t normally take this long at all.

There was a knock on the door and you heard Sam’s muffled voice from the outside, “hey, Y/N, how long you gonna be? Dean wants to get going.”

“What?” You screwed up your nose, “I’ve barely even been 5 minutes!”

“You’ve been 15 minutes, we’ve got to get moving, I’ll see you back at the car.”

You grimaced and packed down your make up back into the little brown bag. Talking a final glance in the mirror you thought that at least you’d had a few minutes to chill off, it wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing. Plus to a certain extent you didn’t just feel like you could kill him now, you looked like you could too.

Stepping down out the cubicle, you made your way back to the impala to see Dean and Sam waiting with the engine on and presumably, that left Crowley in the boot. You opened the back door and tossed your bag in before sitting down in the other seat.

“You good?” Dean asked, making eye contact with you in the rear view mirror.

“I’m good,” you smiled.

A muffled sound from Crowley came through the seats but was quickly drowned out as Dean turned the keys in the ignition and the engine roared into life. Dean threw you a wink and you settled back into the seat as the miles began to slip by the window.

It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes before you heard Crowley humming in the boot. You tried to ignore it knowing that he’d be doing it for a reaction but he just kept going. The same few notes over and over…

You looked over at Sam who was clearly as frustrated as you were, drumming his fingers relentlessly on his knee before he finally caved and started fumbling for the tape box Dean kept locked in the glove compartment.

“Preferences?” He said, looking to Dean poignantly.

Dean glanced back towards the boot and just muttered, “anything loud.”

ralphrius  asked:

I still need to watch Kamen Rider 4, but I have to admit KR Taisen is a guilty pleasure of mine because of the sheer ridiculousness of the entire thing. I dream to one day show it to someone who has 0 context about Kamen Rider/Super Sentai whatsoever.

I did that once at a convention, just showed the first Super Hero Taisen.  Some in the crowd knew the characters, others had NO idea.  It still got a great reaction from everyone, so I showed the second one!

I think it was because there was so much going on, so many fights and explosions, so many ridiculous moments that they became crowd pleasers. You know, for a lot of us, our introduction to Kamen Rider was like that, I remember seeing Kamen Rider ZO with NO context or knowledge of what Kamen Rider was.

Why I Don't Have A Pregnancy Kink

So I’ve had a few people ask me why I dislike the thought of being pregnant in an AU and/or being opposed to the kink in general. I would like to first point out that if you’re into it that’s great. I’ve no issue whatsoever regarding your interest in this particular idea.

But why I hate it, hilariously enough, is because I’ve been pregnant. Twice. I have had the experience of miscarriage before as well.

Pregnancy is something very near and dear to my heart because it was something that was quite difficult for me both times around. I won’t get into too much background stuff but my first pregnancy was scary. I was very sick and just starting a new job. Repeat pregnancy tests had come back as negative, and I worked more to take my mind off of my constant spotting and side effects. I had my first child six weeks premature and in less than fifteen minutes. I barely made it to the hospital.

The second time around I found myself on bed rest for nearly half of my pregnancy due to my first one. My husband was often out of town for work during this time and I had a very active toddler running around me as I kept trying to entertain him from the couch or kitchen. Sickness was common almost all the way through. My dad said that others would judge me for not going out and walking or doing something with my kid during this time. I lost nearly all of my amniotic fluid before I went into labor and I was induced three weeks shy of the full 40 as a safety precaution. I was in push labor for 8 hours because my daughter wasn’t ready and I finally gave out which caused a scar to appear on where her eyebrows are today.

When I needed to deliver the placenta (cause that happens) it wouldn’t loosen causing me to bleed out. I hemorrhaged, losing about half of my blood, finally saved by my OBGYN who was the only barrier between me and surgery. I spent the next two days attempting to hold my daughter while passing out from anemia.

I will add here that I’m being tested for endometriosis, I’ve been diagnosed with PCOS. I’m pretty well infertile by this point. And both my pregnancies were far from the joy that many have experienced during their own process.

I am thankful for my two beautiful children. They are witty and active and sharp as a tack. They are an exquisite blend of both my husband and myself and I couldn’t be more proud and thankful that they will grow up in a great environment with a comfortable life.

But due to these circumstances, along with miscarriages, I have developed some type of trigger to pregnancy AU or certain fics that describe it. It’s brought me some major anxiety and I choose not to read it because of historical events.

As a final note, I appreciate if you read this. And I understand if you don’t want to. I ask that you simply leave this be and/or tag it if you reblog. I’m not writing this because of discussion or anger or annoyance. Simply a statement or fact as a general answer behind the curiosity.

It’s a Percabeth au but i have no idea what to call it so here you go with a title with no indication for the AU whatsoever
  • Okay so an au in which Percy works at a lifeguard/swim teachers on the weekends.
  • So one day Annabethn shows up with Bobby and Matthew, because honestly, they’re 7, they should know how to swim.
  • Percy can’t stop staring at her. It’s her hair that caught his eye, but everything about her is just so pretty. And the way she talks to her baby brothers is just so sweet, and they seem so happy when they’re running to the poolside. (Percy later tells them they can’t do that. “Slippery when wet”, he tells them, pointing to the sign.) She walks over to the bleachers, sits down and takes a book from her bag.
  • He looks away as fast as he can after realizing he’s been staring.
  • Annabeth glances at him too, just a lot less obvious. His abs and his back, it’s so clear he’s a swimmer, and god is hat attractive when he’s only wearing swim shorts and his skin is practically glowing because of the water. Needless to say, Annabeth can’t focus on her book.
  • After swimming lesson, on their way home, Matthew and Bobby keeps talking all excited about their awesome and funny teacher Percy. Annabeth believes them when they say he’s the best teacher ever.
  • Next week they’re back.
  • Percy and Annabeth keeps glancing at each others.
  • Beckendorf notices and gets sick of their shit.
  • “You should talk to her,” he tells Percy.
  • Percy is all suspicious, because no, she would probably not like him at all, but Beckendorf just says “She’s checking you out too, I’m not as oblivious as you, just GO!”
  • So he goes, because Beckendorf is his best friend, he wouldn’t lie about that,
  • They are so awkward. They intruduce themselves, but after that they’re silent for a painfully long amout of time.
  • Finally, Annabeth says, “My brothers thinks you’re a really good teacher.”
  • Percy gets all flustered. So does Annabeth, because when Percy is nervous he runs his hand through his hair, which leaves it looking all styled and showing off his biceps and hell he’s good looking.
  • He decides they don’t have anything else to talk about right now, so he runs back to the water and continues the lesson.
  • When they’re finished he hurries out of the pool and tries to work up the courage to ask her out.
  • He doesn’t have time before the boys come running, grabbing one of Annabeth’s hands each dragging her up from her seat. They’re jumping up and down, telling her they’ve learned how to swim, and that she promised them ice cream when they had.
  • Annabeth raises an eyebrow at Percy. “Did they really?” He nods.
  • “Then we’re going for ice cream!” Annabeth said, rubbing their heads. Bobby and Matthew ran off, already discussing which ice cream flavours they were going to have.
  • Annabeth smiled at Percy, and considered for a moment before she asked him “Care to join us?”
  • “Thought you’d never ask,” he replied, smirking.