Hey, What Do You Think About Medea? I Know People Portray Her As A Cruel Witch But I Think She Never

What can people say? We are always waiting for things to happen, and boom-nothing really happens at all!

The most powerful thing you can do right now is to be patient while things are unfolding for you.

Who steps out of the shower half dressed and who exhales 'wow, I'm gay' to themselves ? For as many ships as you like!

🦝: blurb/ headcanons/ drabbles

Uh I'm not going to say *I'm gay* because I really want to do Jeyna. So is *I'm whipped* a good substitute?

So in the case of Jeyna:

Contrary to popular belief, whenever Jason steps out of the shower half dressed, humming some stupid show tune, Rey plays it super cool like it doesnt affect her at all. But inside her mind is just Wow Jason. HOLYSHITHOLYFUCK and shes mentally screaming because he doesn't know what an effect she has on him and like Jason totally knows but he acts like he doesnt notice and will basically tease her the whole time.

Thaluke (let's pretend these babies are alive/not immortal):

Its totally Luke. Luke is the definition of a simp. He will look at Thalia and his heart will just skip a few beats because he's like this beauty woman chose me of all the people she could be with. "Damn I'm so lucky" is a thought constantly in his head because he loves her so much, from her punk badges to the little freckles on her back.

Solangelo:

So it would be Will. Nico would come out of the shower and Will would be teasing him about using up all the hot water or something and then Nico will be like "for the last time, William" and turn to face him and Will's brain kinda short circuits because wow this guy is so beautiful and like he looks so good and holy fuck, hes so gay and he wants to marry Nico di angelo and his ghostly weebiness.

Tratie (this is canon, fight me):

I hc that they both dont start dating outright but more as like, friends with benefits or something. Then one day, Katie steps out the bathroom in a towel and she's yelling at Travis for finishing her shampoo and she's not completely got the soap off her body and her hair is all stuck to her head but at that moment, Travis is like wow. I love her. And then he just pauses and goes. Fuck. I'm whipped for Katie Gardiner.

Malcolm and Rachel (thank you @1ooo-w0rds for getting me to ship something that has 0 scope in this fandom)

Its Rachel. For sure. They're just roommates. He needs a place to stay close to his college and she doesnt really want to stay away from the world of demigods during the whole year she spends at her Art College. She walks into his room trying to ask him something and he's standing there in his towel and all Rachel completely loses her voice and she just mutters wow under her breath and she knows it's weird but she cant take her eyes off him and her mind is just doing a continuous chant of ohmygodohmygodohmygod I'm going to die.

Ahh I dont really ship anything else that much so I dont think I can just do headcanons randomly until you specifically request ygm

****

This sucks sorrryyy.

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated.

“Just when you think it can’t get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can’t get any better, it can.”

— Nicholas Sparks (via perfectquote)

I scratch this today at my class because I was so bored. I put some effects on it to make it...look good. BTW hats off to @xstarsarewrong for the fic...I almost cried in front of my class after reading it🤦‍♀️

Here’s how it works: we board the train. I sit at the back of the train, facing forward. You sit at the front of the train, glancing back. There is a distance, d, between us. The doors slide shut. The train lurches into motion.

If the train was moving at a perfectly constant velocity, we could pull the shades down over the windows, close our eyes, block out all other frames of reference, and believe that we were standing still, that our journey had not yet started, that it was not yet too late to stand up and disembark and still be standing at the station. But for now there is only acceleration, unmistakable, the train building, building speed, hurtling off towards the future.

It goes like this: we pass light and shade and light and shade and light.

Each time, a shaft of light enters from the very front of the train, through the engineer’s window, passes you and and travels the length of d all the way to the back of the train at 299,792,458 meters per second to reach my eyes. Then a moment’s shadow, then the next shaft of light, and so on, at regular intervals, so that in this way we can keep time.

We are constantly accelerating.

In the infinitesimal amount of time it takes for a shaft of light to travel the length of d, I have been accelerated forward ever so infinitesimally to meet it, reducing the distance each successive beam of light has to travel, narrowing the intervals between them from what you experience up in front, quickening the beats of light and shade and light and shade and light.

Time dilates.

Let’s pretend: that before we boarded we set our watches to move in sync, that they beat in perfect unison, that by some coincidence each tick marks the precise interval between shafts of light from my perspective. Let’s pretend that I am sitting here in the back, my world in order, moving with perfect regularity. The speed of light is a constant. Tick, tick, tick, for every burst of light.

Even then, in the front, though your conscious mind could not possibly begin to perceive it, you might subconsciously begin to sense the irregularity: that your watch was moving faster, out of sync, that each tick came a fraction of a nanosecond before the next beam of light; that, on a long enough time frame, you would eventually come to overtake it, that you would gain an extra second, then another, then another, time compounding inevitably until we both knew for sure that I was lagging behind.

We have to accept this: that the speed of light is a constant, no matter where we are relative to each other, no matter our velocities, no matter the directions that we’re headed. That in the equation of S = d / t, speed is distance divided by time, it is time that has to change to compensate. That if we are to exist under the same laws of physics, we have to accept the seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, all the relative differences between us.

I am seated on the back of the train, looking forward into the future. You are seated on the front of the train, looking back into the past.

Actually I was half expecting Jason to be on the show cos I already knew you would definitely put that guy on the show😁

What do you think about both Gwen and Hylla being overprotective towards Reyna? Do you wanna write a fic about them? Just asking, you know... BUT I WOULD LOVE TO READ A FIC 'BOUT THEM!!! CAN YOU DO A ONE?

I personally dont like Hylla being super protective of Reyna coz like gurl you abandoned her but I totally get Gwen. Gwen is her best friend and is 1000% protective of her.

I was going to do a really short blurb but my hand slipped?

Anyways this is crappy and unedited (sorryyy)

******

"Are you sure you don't want me to beat him up?" Hylla asked, a scowl on her face.

Reyna sighed. "Honestly guys. I'm fine. It's just a date!"

Gwen piped in, "But he broke your heart once already!"

Reyna shot her a dark look and muttered, "Thanks for the reminder, Gwen."

Gwen squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm just scared that he's going to pull the same shit again."

"You and me both," Reyna murmured.

Hylla said, crossing her arms, "Well, if he does it again, I'm going to break his face. The first time was, okay, not his fault but if he does it again," she made a menacing gesture, "he's done for. No one leaves my little sister behind!"

"No one except you," Gwen grumbled softly.

Reyna gave out a small snicker just as the bell trilled.

Hylla said, "Its your boy, Rey." She made a gagging face at the word boy and made her way to the stairs. "I'm going to threaten him for a few minutes. You just..finish up whatever she's doing," she pointed at Gwen, "and come down."

Shaking her head, Reyna sat back down as Gwen straightened the last bits of her hair.

Gwen whispered, "You sure about this?" Her eyes looked concerned.

Reyna nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure."

She walked down the stairs slowly, her heels already digging into her feet. Gwen trailed behind, lips pursed, staring at Jason.

Jason looked..well, hot. A blue button down, black pants and he had even combed his hair. Wow. He was talking to Hylla with a resigned look on his face, nodding his head in agreement to whatever she was saying.

As she reached them, Hylla glanced at her before she said to Jason, "Look at her, she's beautiful and perfect. You better take care of her this time, wolf boy."

He sighed. "I will, Hylla. I promise."

He turned to look at Reyna and his eyes widened and he let out a small breath. "Wow. You look...wow. Holy shit,"

Jason leaned down to kiss her cheek and Reyna could smell his cologne and for God's sake, she wanted to forget about the date and just take him back to her bedroom. But common sense prevailed.

When he moved away, Gwen walked up to him and poked his chest.

"Ow!" He exclaimed.

"Don't hurt her again," she said, softly.

"I won't," he promised.

Reyna interrupted, "Alright, let's leave!" She grabbed Jason's hand and practically dragged him out the door before she said, "Love you both. Byee," before slamming the door shut.

She said, "I'm sorry, they're just too protective,"

Jason squeezed her hand before bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly. "Its alright, Rey Rey."

Reyna sighed softly. "Its been ages since you've called me that."

"How about I make it up?" He said, a small smile on his lips before he leaned down to kiss her.

****

So @crownseabird not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's all right?

Tagging: @xstarsarewrong @evolving-into-icarus @kuuhakublank00 @knowitowl @cometlite @hayliemyers-agentofshield @kasoe21 @dragoncreek319

✨stockings✨

Okay, so this made me want to write about stockings, but then I got inspired by that one scene from Brooklyn (2015) and my own grandparents and here we are. 

A 1930s Everlark 🌹:

1938

The only reason Katniss agreed to the Friday night dance was because Prim had promised to do all her Saturday chores if she’d come. “Mama won’t let me go unless you come,” her sister had pleaded, crawling across their shared bed, hands folded together. “Please please please, Katniss?”

“I hate those dances,” she argued, shoving her sister off her notes. “Plus I have an exam next week that I need to study for. Why can’t Mama take you?”

Prim looked aghast at the suggestion. “I can’t take my matka to the dance! I’d be the laughing stock at school! Katniss, please? I’ll do all your Saturday chores and take care of Babcia all night instead. Please?”

She likely would have gone without the promised bribe, but if Prim was offering to batter out dirty rugs and polish their mother’s silver and deal with their strict grandmother for a whole Saturday evening, then Katniss wasn’t going to bypass it. So here she sat in her church’s basement, huddled in the far corner where the girls with no dance partners sat, counting down the minutes until 9 o’clock.

The room was crowded with kids from the neighborhood, excited to congregate together without total parental supervision watching over them, and she saw Prim near the band with some fellow she recognized from church, her head thrown back in laughter. The guy’s face was a bit too close to her sister’s neck, but Prim would never forgive her if she stepped in and played matka. Katniss crossed her arms and sighed, slinking down in her seat.

Sixty-seven minutes to go.

“Not much for dances?” a boy next to her asked, causing her to jump. He hadn’t been there a moment ago.

She frowned. “Am I that obvious?”

“Most girls over here are scoping the dance floor for fellas. You, on the other hand,” he said, eyeing the clock, “keep checking the time. Got a hot date or something?”

Her cheeks flushed at his forwardness. “Gee, you talk to all the girls you’ve just met like that?”

“No,” he smiled, leaning closer to her, “but I think it’s important to make sure I’m not stepping where I shouldn’t be stepping. So is there a lucky fella? Or are you free to dance with me?”

Katniss gave him a hard look, amazed at just how forward this guy was. She hadn’t been asked to dance often, but she’d seen the bashful way boys usually asked Prim and Leevy. They were never as forward! She sniffed the air. “Why would I tell you such a thing? I don’t even know your name.”

“Peeta Mellark,” he said, holding his hand for her to take. Katniss lightly grabbed his fingers, gave a halfhearted shake in greeting, and put her hand back in her lap. “What’s yours?”

“Katniss Everdeen.”

“Everdeen?” he frowned. “That don’t sound Polish. Are you crashing this dance, too?” She tried her best not to notice how his blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the church’s poor lightning when he smiled at that.

“That’s because it isn’t. My mother’s Polish, but my father wasn’t.” She checked the clock and held back another tired sigh. Only five minutes had passed.

“Time would go faster if you danced,” Peeta suggested teasingly, leaning back in his seat. “I’d be happy to fill that time.”

Her fingers drummed on her knees, considering his offer. She still had an hour left of this thing and he wasn’t wrong about time moving faster if she was doing something.

“Okay,” Katniss agreed, holding her hand out. “One dance and you leave me alone for the rest of the night.”

He hurried to stand and grabbed her offered hand, bowing dramatically at the honor. She rolled her eyes and told him to move it along, before she changed her mind.

They walked to the dance floor just as the band was starting a new song. It was a swing tune, one the whole room cheered to as couples started to sway to the rhythm. It took Katniss a moment to pick up the new steps, unfamiliar with this particular dance, but with Peeta’s laughing encouragement, she was soon dancing and laughing along with him. He shook his hands to the side as the gentlemen in the talkies did and spun her around until her head spun. He even convinced her to take center floor with him as they kicked and stepped to the beat, the couples around them cheering around them.

Before Katniss knew it, they had danced four more times together. He didn’t ask if she wanted to stop after that first one and she didn’t bother to deny him as he kept pulling her back for more. Her hair was a bit disheveled now, her curls coming loose due to the room’s humidity and her own movements, and her feet hurt in her heels, but it’d been awhile since she’d had this much fun. Prim was never going to let her live this down.

Finally, the priest announced the band would be playing one last song, even though it was past 9 now, because they’d all been such a great group tonight. It surprised her, how fast time really did go by when she wasn’t sitting in the corner, pleading with the clock to move faster.

The band started one last time, crooning a slow ballad. Couples paired up and she saw her sister on the other side of the room with the same guy as earlier. Were they serious, she wondered, Prim and this guy? Peeta’s hand on her lower back pulled her back to them, their bodies pressed together now. She rested one hand on his shoulder, realizing just how tall he was as she looked up at him, his smile causing something in her to flutter, and she smiled back. Peeta smelled nice, she noticed, pressed against him so close now. Like fresh baked bread and a seasoning she couldn’t place. Dill maybe? His body felt warm against hers, but she welcomed it, despite how hot she was after all the dancing.Their hands laced together as the music swept through the room, couples spinning slowly to the tune.

“This is nice,” he said near her ear. “Glad you said yes, Katniss Everdeen.”

“It is,” she agreed, deciding it wouldn’t be a bad thing to rest her head on his chest. The other girls were doing it and well, Prim always said these dances were for meeting fellas.

“Hey, Peeta?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Hey, Katniss?” he asked in return, that smile of his still there, looking down at her.

“What’d you mean when you asked if I was crashing this dance?” It’d been bothering her since about their second dance. “Are you crashing?”

He laughed and spun them around. “Does Mellark sound Polish to you?”

“Well, no,” she frowned, not even thinking of that when he introduced himself. “I guess I just figured you were like me.” She couldn’t be sure, but it felt like he pulled her closer. Not that she was complaining about that.

“Both parents are German,” he said, his cheek pressed on top of her head. “As hard German as you can make them, really strict, you know?”

“So what were you doing at a Polish dance, then? Don’t the Germans have their own dances?”

“Oh yeah” Peeta said, laughing, “We do, but I like coming to your dances. They’re more fun and well, I really like Polish girls.”

Katniss tucked her face into his shirt to hide her blush. “German boys aren’t so bad, either.” If it was at all possible, his smile grew.

“I’ll take you to one, if you’d like,” he promised. “You can see for yourself how much more fun your dances are.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Peeta?”

“Would you say yes if I was?”

Katniss bit her bottom lip. “I would, yes.”

He spun them around one last time before the song ended, resting his forehead on hers. The music had stopped, the couples around them breaking apart, but Katniss and Peeta stood there, still holding on to each other. “When can I take you out?” he asked. “Please say soon?”

Glancing over at Prim, who had clearly noticed where she was and giving thumbs up in approval, Katniss smiled. “You free tomorrow night?”

Ahh, my boys with their father❤❤❤

I’m not crying you’re crying

In our restlessness, we’re always tempted to climb every hill, to cross every skyline to find out what lies beyond. But yet, as you get older and wiser, it isn’t just flagging energy but rather increasing wisdom that teaches you to look at mountains from below. Or perhaps, just climb them a little way, for at the top you can no longer see the mountain. And beyond, on the other side, there is perhaps just another valley like this.

- Alan Watts

There you go girl... life is a fucking shit without its hopes.

Pandora opened the box—

inside the box there was a great wickedness. inside the box there was an apple. inside the box there was the knowledge of good and evil. inside the box there was a mirror. inside the box there was the contents of her own heart, given form and volition. inside the box there was a darkness that was dispelled the moment it was opened, leaving her only with an open box and all the world around her and an amorphous sense of dread.

inside the box there was another box. inside the box there was the box itself, unopened. inside the box there was a replica of the world and all its ills, made miniature. inside the box there was an infinite series of progressively smaller boxes, so that her labor might never be complete, nay, not til the end of mankind.

inside the box there was a secret. inside the box there was the bloody remains of all the women who had dared to open the box before her. inside the box there was a great treasure, a revelation that could outweigh all the splendor of the idyllic world around her. inside the box was whatever evil her Creator had placed inside of it to begin with. inside the box was the innermost portion of the soul that must first be known in order to be loved, were she to love Him in His entirety. inside the box was her inheritance. inside the box was evidence of a crime.

inside the box there was a promise. inside the box there was nothing at all, nothing but a moral lesson. inside the box there was a tiny image of Pandora herself, her head bent over a box as if seen from a great height, and when Pandora looked up it was then for the first time she saw the four walls surrounding her.

Inside the box there was a perfect world, just waiting to begin.