#I've seen some confused comments recently and I've been having thoughts

[emo-eyemakeup-evildude]

So, a couple thoughts on the recent bcb pages.

One, Lucy is experiencing the aftereffects of two severely traumatizing events. The first being throwing herself on a metaphorical grenade to save the friend group, and Mike in particular. The second being Mike in particular absolutely destroying her mental health (like yeah they're teens and she's not absolutely faultless here but he didn't need to go THAT hard on her y'know and we know what happened after that). It seems to me that her nightmare from the start of the chapter was about the first event, and her brain must have some complex emotions about that, and about Mike, due to the second event.

And so, two, just hearing his voice must have been enough to increase all the shitty brain trauma feelings she'd been feeling all day (even if she couldn't hear exactly what he was saying due to her hearing loss in one ear). She and Augustus probably figured they were unlikely to run into Mike if they ate lunch outside since Mike usually eats with the group in the lunch room. Augustus probably knew Lucy did have a nightmare about The Incident and that it was probably the worst possible day to run into Mike (and not that he's upset that like they all go to the same school or something).

Also I'm fully on Lucy's side like it's so exhausting to have people treat you like you're on your deathbed just because you're having a slightly off day. It just feels patronizing and dehumanizing to have everyone insist no actually you're not okay and we have to do something about it it's for your own good. That's also not great for your mental health.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

baby steps. l Joel Miller

Summary: you were his very quiet companion on patrols

Warnings:  angst, a little bit of swearing, mentioning pregnancy, mentioning loss of a child, mentioning abortion, mentioning suicidal thoughts, generally - a lot of unpleasant things, Reader is 30s or sth, I guess

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a long time. There are some not so nice things (read the Warnings!) but I hope the whole story won't be so awful. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

and i would like to thank you for the few kind words i have received recently. it scared me but was very nice. thank you!

The first time he met you was at Tipsy Bison when Tommy told him you would be his new partner on patrols. Footsteps were barely audible, and then a chair on the other side of the table moved and you sat down. 

Your eyes stopped on Joel's face for a moment, you nodded in greeting. The name quietly fell from your lips, and then you focused on the map that Tommy had spread out on the table.

Joel wasn't sure if you understood what his brother was saying to you. You were silent, sometimes nodding your head, nothing more.

"Is she even good for this?" Joel finally muttered as you said goodbye and left.

"What do you mean?" Tommy folded the map and put it in his jacket pocket.

Joel raised his eyebrows "She seems a little... I don't know. Distant?"

A quiet laugh escaped Tommy's lips "Really? And who's talking?" he took a few sips of coffee "Joel, you wouldn't patrol together if I wasn't sure she was good. She may not be the life of the party, but she's great at what she does."

Joel had the impression that he had seen you a few times in Jackson, but you were one of those people who kept their distance from others. So he looked like that to others too?

It was only the first patrol with you that made him change his mind about you, but he wasn't sure yet if this change was for the better. 

You were definitely not one of those people who needed to talk. Small talk wasn't for you, but you listened very carefully. 

The area around Jackson was no stranger to you, just like handling a gun. So Joel got used to you, and over time he even managed to get some information out of you.

You had been in Jackson for almost five years, you lived alone in a small apartment. You were alone. "That's the best way." No family or close friends, except for Maria. You were patrolling and searching for supplies. He was also sure he saw you in the library, but he never asked about it.

After a few months, Joel could clearly tell that you were the right person for the job. He even managed to make you laugh a few times or talk a little longer. You never asked him about the past, and when he asked you about it, you answered "We're at an age where everyone has some background, right? But not everything is suitable for talking about it."

"Your girlfriend seems nice." Ellie stated one day, and seeing his confused face added "I talked to her today. She said that this crap didn't let her finish high school, so now she's catching up on school readings. If I were her, I wouldn't bother. School sucks."

The warm coffee warmed his tired body, but after a moment he spoke up "You talked to her? When? And... She's not my girlfriend."

Ellie shrugged "We talk a lot. And you don't? You spend a lot of time together, I thought that..."

"You were wrong." Joel mumbled "Did she say anything else?"

The girl looked at him carefully. "You really don't know her very well, do you?"

He wasn't sure if he knew you at all. Did he have the right to demand that from you? You did your job thoroughly, he could rely on you, and despite everything you were still standing somewhere in the shadows, hiding from everyone.

"Is everything okay with you?"

Your voice tore him out of his reverie for a moment. You were walking through a quiet area, the fading grass crunching under your feet, and the cold wind slowly became more and more severe.

"Yeah, everything's okay." he replied, glancing at you over his shoulder "I was lost in thought."

"I saw. Good thoughts?"

Joel cleared his throat and stopped, and a moment later you stood in front of him, looking at him uncertainly. 

You really liked him. Miller might seem like a grump, but his personality didn't bother you at all. Women in Jackson also said he was handsome. You had a lot of time to watch him outside the city, you had to admit they were right too. But that wasn't what mattered, was it? You felt safe with him and you trusted him, that was important.

"Doesn't Ellie tire you out?" he asked finally.

"What?" you burst out laughing "Come on. I like her. She asks a lot of questions, but she's a cool girl. I remember when I was her age..."

You stopped as if the thought slowed down your thinking the moment it appeared in your head. Joel saw your eyes wandering around the area with an unseeing gaze.

"Were you her age when this started?" he asked, but you shook your head slightly "Older?"

"Not much." Your voice was quiet but calm "I was a senior in high school. It seems so stupid now... I had a crush on this one guy, fuck, I don't know why I thought of him now."

"It was important back then." Joel mumbled, absorbing your every word. "And your family?"

"They died. A long time ago." The answer was quick, but emotionless. "Why do you ask?"

Joel shrugged. "I don't know. Just like that. Maybe I'd like to get to know you better."

You nodded, analyzing his words for a moment. "You're weird sometimes, Miller." You finally stated. "Conversations like this don't lead anywhere. They only reopen old wounds."

You adjusted your rifle strap and moved forward.

Fall had come for good, and you were slowly starting to withdraw even more. He could see it. Patrols were almost completely silent, he rarely saw you among people or at evening community meetings. 

Even Ellie convinced him that something was going on, because when he asked her she said that she hadn't talked to you in a while.

"It's that time of year." Maria said when he asked her about you too, he was helping her fix the heating in her house. "You should get used to it, Joel. But... I didn't know you were so interested in her."

"It's not like that." he mumbled, but he felt a strange warmth creep up the back of his neck. "She's my partner on patrol. I want to know that she's okay."

"I get it." Maria nodded and sat down on the couch. "Have you talked to her?"

"I've tried, but you know perfectly well that it's not easy. You're her friend." the woman smiled gently. "Is there something she's not telling me?"

"A lot of things, Joel. Just like you, she's not very open to confiding. And this time of year..." she looked out the window where the wind was playing with the fallen leaves. "You should talk to her yourself, if you care about her. But you can also forget about it, be like everyone else, pass her on the street and just let her be. It shouldn't be that hard for you, right?"

And that was something he couldn't get out of his head.

When he saw that guy instead of you the next morning, a strange shiver ran down his spine. "She's sick." Mark said, pushing leather gloves onto his hands. "I'll replace her."

Joel nodded and they set off on patrol. However, his thoughts kept returning to you, he analyzed your last meeting, the last words you exchanged. You were even more subdued. He had the impression that he was forcing the next words out of you, and you just wanted to leave, to disappear.

"She's weird, but pretty." Mark replied when they took a break for hot coffee and a sandwich. "A few guys hit on her, but nothing came of it. Actually, I was hoping that you and her, you know..." he winked at Joel. "But maybe she's that type of person."

"What type?" Joel asked, chewing a bite of his sandwich.

"In times like these, people need each other. They want to at least pretend that things are normal." Mark explained, reaching for the thermos of coffee "And others simply adapt to it. They don't want to have anyone close to them, because it's risky, you know. I guess she's like that. A lone wolf."

But Joel wasn't entirely sure, because he knew you from a slightly different side, or at least that's what he thought. When he showed up at your door that evening, only silence greeted him. And it was the same for the next few days.

"Yeah, she's still in Jackson." Maria was sure of her words "I visited her yesterday, but I don't think..."

That was enough for him. That strange fear was creeping into Joel's heart again. He didn't know why. He was afraid, and all his thoughts kept running to you. It was as if a strange force was pulling him towards you.

"Hey! It's me. Open up." he knocked on your door, but it didn't help "I know you're there. I want to talk. You can't keep hiding."

No answer.

"I can easily break down this door." he declared "I'll make a mess and you'll just be embarrassed. I can do this, you know that. So... On three?" he cleared his throat as if he was preparing to actually do it "One!" Nothing. "Two!" he thought he heard quiet footsteps on the other side. He was about to open his mouth when the door opened slightly and he saw your face.

"You'll hurt your shoulder. It'll be my fault and you'll be excluded from patrols for a long time." you said "That's pointless. Go away."

"I'm not going until you talk to me." Joel replied, his dark eyes full of stubbornness that you knew so well "You can't keep hiding."

"Maybe I'm sick?"

"You don't seem to be."

And then with one strong push he opened the door and before you could stop him he went inside. His gaze swept the apartment, he heard your protests but didn't care. 

Like a storm he passed through the small living room, peeked into the kitchen and when he entered the bedroom he found what he was looking for.

"Fuck! Get out of here!" you hissed, rushing after him, but then you noticed the bottle of whiskey he had taken from your nightstand.

"And these are bedtime snacks?" he growled, throwing a box full of medicines to the floor. "You robbed a fucking pharmacy?"

"None of your business!" you replied, he saw the fury in your eyes. "You're the last person who should be judging me."

"Or maybe I can, because I'm the only one who's ever shown up at your fucking door? What did you want to do, huh?" he put the bottle down with a bang and walked up to you, but you didn't take a single step back. "We were supposed to find you only when the stairwell started to stink? Did you think about Maria? About Ellie? That girl really likes you. Did you think about..."

About me.

Your gaze, although full of tears, was unwavering. You stood there, arms folded across your chest, your throat constricted so tightly that you couldn't swallow.

"Joel..." his name sounded like a prayer in your mouth. "I don't know what you were thinking, but this doesn't concern you. You shouldn't even be here. I tried to keep you out of this."

"Why?" his voice was a little calmer "Why are you like this? I can't figure it out. At first I thought we just didn't know each other well, but after so many months. I heard how freely you talked to Maria, Tommy said that you used to babysit their kid. I don't understand it!"

You closed your eyes as if his words brought you pain, as if they evoked all the emotions in you that you wanted to hide. Tears ran down your cheeks, and a quiet sob escaped your throat.

"I don't know how to deal with this, Joel..." you whispered after a moment, looking at him with eyes full of pain "It all hurts me so much. Every day. Patrols with you were an escape for me, you didn't ask stupid questions, I could feel safe there. But it's all always for a moment."

Joel approached you, his warm hand caressed your arm "You can tell me everything, you know that." you nodded "Come on, sit down."

He closed the bedroom door behind you as if he was leaving something unpleasant and bad there, and then sat down next to you on the couch. When you calmed down a bit, you looked at him like never before, almost with tenderness.

"When I came to Jackson, five years ago, I wasn't alone." you started slowly.

"Were you with someone? With some group?" Joel frowned, trying to remember that detail that must have escaped his attention.

You shook your head. "No, Joel. I wasn't alone, because I was pregnant."

Something twisted his guts. He didn't expect this.

"It was the middle of the seventh month, I guess. It's hard to get regular doctor's visits these days." The little joke was probably meant to lighten the mood, but even you didn't smile. "I've had a long journey. I was alone. Almost." you took a deep breath, and Joel felt his hands go cold and trembling in an instant. "It's funny, you know. Long time ago, women my age already had two kids. And I was completely unplanned pregnant and I hated every single day. I didn't want this baby, but it was there. It was growing. It was alive. I could feel it."

"What about the father?" Joel asked quietly.

A strange grimace crossed your face at the mere memory. "He wasn't father material, if that's what you mean. Some random guy. You know, as women we have another bargaining chip. Something that really tempts some men. Something we can use to survive."

He knew perfectly well what you meant. He had seen many women like that, but he didn't judge them. Everyone did what they had to to survive.

"He was nice, if that's any consolation. We stuck together for a while, and then we went our separate ways. After a while, I found out I was pregnant. But I didn't have anyone or anything at hand to help me solve this... problem." you rubbed your forehead with your hand as if you wanted to get rid of bad memories "Some guy told me about someone who could get rid of it manually, but I was afraid of infection. Then it was too late. Days and weeks passed, and I hated myself and this baby. The nausea was killing me. I was no longer good at smuggling. I also had no idea what I would do with a crying newborn... I got to Jackson, I thought maybe someone here would help me. Maria was so wonderful." a faint smile appeared on your lips, but you weren't even looking at Joel anymore. Your gaze was fixed on your clasped hands "I started bleeding a few days after I arrived. Then everything happened so quickly... The doctor at the clinic couldn't do anything. I had to give birth, but... There was so much blood... And silence. There was no baby crying."

Joel felt as if a heavy stone was resting in his stomach. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face, but he couldn't say any words that could comfort you. And what the hell would they sound like. But you didn't wait for that, the words slowly flowed from your lips. 

"The doctor said that my body was too weak, that long fatigue, improper diet, that he was too weak... I had a son. He was so small when Maria put him in my arms... And he was so perfect. I was so afraid that his crying would bring trouble to us, that he decided to be quiet."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault..." Joel finally choked out "Things like that..."

"Happens. I know that." You interrupted him calmly "But it was my fault, Joel. When I saw him... I would have given my life so he could cry, so I could know he was healthy and strong. How could I have ever thought otherwise? What kind of person am I?"

Your voice broke. You looked exhausted and tired of life. Joel understood your guilt perfectly, he knew what you felt. Sarah appeared in his head in an instant.

"I had a daughter." His voice broke the long silence between you. "I lost her right at the beginning."

"I'm sorry." Your voice was quiet, but full of something that gave him some relief.

"After everything I wanted..." he cleared his throat "I wanted to do the same thing you wanted. I even tried, but... I know how you feel, it's so devastating, and it will never get easier."

"I still have him in my mind, you know. He'd be five now. He'd ask a thousand questions, and I'd have to make sure he doesn't get into trouble. Sometimes I think about what it would be like, but then I hate myself even more... I didn't want him. I wanted to get rid of him. Maybe it's because of this..."

"Don't say that." Joel grabbed your hands and squeezed them tightly. "You might have thought so. You were alone, and this world had gone mad. You got into Jackson, you could be safe here, but... These things happen."

You watched him carefully. Never before had you and Joel spoken so intimately, but you didn't feel embarrassed by it. On the contrary, it was the first time someone had really meant it when they said "I understand you."

"I'm sure she was beautiful." you said quietly.

"She was. And very smart. Much smarter than me." Joel added. "She probably would have gone to college or something."

For a moment, silence reigned again. You had the impression that you were both lost in your thoughts about the losses that affected you. You weren't beating each other, you just allowed yourselves to feel it all again.

"Did you really want to kill yourself?" his question brought you back to reality for a moment.

You nodded. "Look at me, Joel. I have nothing, no one. I don't know if I could ever get close to someone again. And all these thoughts only make me feel worse. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to feel anything anymore."

He understood it perfectly. After Sarah died, he felt that this world wasn't for him. Every day was torture, and the longer it lasted, the more he closed himself in his shell. Years passed, and Joel barricaded himself so much that no one and nothing could get him out. 

And then Ellie appeared.

"You know..." he began uncertainly trying to find the right words. "I know what I'm going to say will seem pointless to you, but sometimes it's worth gritting your teeth and trying to live on. Not jumping into the deep end right away, but slowly, day by day. I know that your son..."

The name you gave him when you saw his face for the first time came out of your mouth. Joel repeated it gently.

"Your son would have a really fantastic mother." he said "I'm sorry you had to go through this. I really am."

Tears flowed down your cheeks and Joel struggled to put his arm around you so that you could snuggle up to him. You clung to him, and for the first time he felt the warmth of your body, your scent, your tender touch when you hugged him.

You sat like that for a long time. For the first time you talked about everything and nothing, he heard your quiet laughter a few times and noticed how much he liked it. It was all like honey to his heart. The feeling of loneliness he had disappeared when you were next to him.

He saw you the next day on patrol. It was the first sunny morning in a long time.

"Hi." Your quiet voice was the best thing he'd heard in a long time.

"Baby steps, right?" He nudged your shoulder lightly.

You smiled and followed him.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[cobblestone-butch]

jus saw ur post ab sculptor etho muse joel, ik u got forcibly ejected from the writers room but if i make another writers room will u write it /hj

hey tysm! I ended up writing a little something so it will be below <3 this is mostly just Cleo helping Etho realise what might be going on with his struggles to sculpt. I hope people like and mostly that anyone who knows anything about art would write for it too (I know nothing!)

"So, first things first! Why do you want to learn to pose armour stands, Etho? Have you got a specific project in mind?"

There's an awkward pause.

"I only ask so I can get a good idea of what to focus on. It's just good if we start our work with something you're already interested in, right?"

She's never seen Etho look so... Nervous. Learning can be a vulnerable thing, sure, but Etho has never been shy with questions and comments and the unknown the way some people are. It feels wrong to turn to insults, light as they may be, to ease the attention - they're at a complete loss on what to do other than let him work through whatever he's feeling.

"Nothing, there's nothing... Specific I had in mind. It's... I tried sculpting."

"Okay that's good. That's great! What did you like about sculpting?"

"I didn't like sculpting."

Cleo laughs, a mix of confusion and genuine amusement, "Alright! So why do you want to learn 'armorstandography' then?"

Etho is still looking down, picking what she now suspects to be dried clay or quartz from his clothes. His shoulders drop a little from their previously hunched state though, which is a good sign.

"I just figured that maybe it would be easier. N-not that what you do is easy, I mean, you're clearly very skilled, and that's why I've asked you-"

"Etho, slow down, it's okay. I am perfectly assured in what I do and how much effort it takes. But still, I appreciate it."

"I thought maybe something with color would be more, familiar? I like vibrant colors and how they go together, and sculpting out of quartz is so... Lifeless."

Cleo shakes her head, "I won't teach you, Etho."

Etho snaps his head upwards, looking for some sign that it's some dry British humor he's missed. Cleo's face is even more stony than his recent attempts at sculpting.

"I won't teach you", they repeat, "Not for that reason. Color won't inject life into what you make, Etho. I won't teach you something that isn't true."

"Uh huh..."

"And besides, I don't think I believe you. I bet your sculptures have plenty of life in them." Cleo sees a frown pull on Etho's features, "Go on, prove me wrong."

---

Etho puts his hand on the door leading to his storage area. It's a big enough space for art projects, and it's nice to hear items sort themselves as he works, frustrated as he's been with the outcome of his endeavours recently. Cleo reads his hesitance immediately, and knows that Etho won't find comfort in their reassuring words. Here, at the doorway, she pushes past him.

She's drawn to her own face first. Sat on a block is her own head, looking back at her. She sees her own soft features, big eyes and strong nose. A dozen other faces around the room, and she can just about identify them as their friends. There's one off to the side, hidden enough to not drawn attention but not hidden too much, as if he's given himself plausible deniability for doing it. Etho's problem is not that his sculptures look lifeless. Etho's problem is denial.

It takes Cleo seconds to spot and minutes to confirm - there's only one sculpture amongst the collection that properly resembles the person it's modelled after. Every other head or bust has been affected by it, flawed in different ways but for the exact same reason. They all look a bit too much like Joel. It's in the furrow of her brow, the fierceness of Scar's smile, the curl of Doc's hair. Their eyes are all bright, smiles meeting them in genuine warmth, and Cleo can see even with just quartz how skilled Etho is at what he does.

Cleo isn't sure how aware Etho is that he's making them all in Joel's image, so they opt for asking something less direct, "What do you think the problem is? With these sculptures?"

"They're all... Wrong. I just can't get anyone right, and I'm not exactly going for artistic liberty."

Cleo laughs kindly, "That's not exactly true, is it? I can see one that's particularly uncanny."

"Uncanny valley?" Etho makes the joke before she can, but it's not what she was pitching for.

She walks over to and stands behind the sculpture of Joel. "I like this one. I've definitely seen this face before I've died a few times."

Etho laughs, and it stops the ever-shifting of his feet and the picking at his hands. He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at his neck as he rubs at it in slight shame. "He's, ah, a vicious one, Joel. He does this little huff thing, and it sounds like a tiger- he's always in some kind of mood and it's always so big, he can't do anything calmly or slowly, you've seen how quickly he builds, and, I just thought what's the most 'Joel' face I can think of? I remembered how he looked building that TNT cannon..."

Cleo lets him talk. It's nice, after all the awkward, to see him talk to openly about all the thoughts that went into the Joel sculpture. She can almost see what he means when he says the other attempts are lifeless; the animation in his voice when he talks about Joel makes everything else pale in comparison. She doesn't think he realises.

"Do you know what a muse is?" They ask after Etho has run himself out of steam, or perhaps noticed a conspicuous lack of interjection from Cleo, a usually very active listener.

"You mean like an inspiration?"

"Yeah! Well, sort of. In Greek mythology, the Muses were goddesses, and their domains included art of all kinds. And we've sort of derived meaning from that, so plenty of artists say they have muses that inspire them. And it helps them make art even if it's not always about them."

"Uh huh. So you think that I need to find my muse?"

"I think you already have, Etho." She looks down at the head between them, and Etho follows her gaze. Joel's eyes look back at him, intense and alive and challenging. He averts his gaze, something complicated settling over him - what they shared was so long ago, in a time and place so far from here. To feel the pull of that, it feels cosmic and mythical in a way Etho naturally rejects.

It's like Cleo can see through him, always. "It doesn't have to be complicated. It can be as simple as knowing someone well enough to capture a second of their likeness. That's what a lot of my armour stands do, they're just snapshots in time. Maybe you should just talk to Joel."

"Oh, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"He'll be insufferable about it."

Cleo actually snorts at that. "Fine then, don't talk to him. Just make more excuses to send him mail and wait for an extrovert to bring you to his base to talk, or whatever it is that you guys do."

"You're not far off, Cleo."

"Oh, I know. I have to hear all about it."

"What?! The next time I see Scar..."

---

Joel stares back into his own eyes. The head was left at the gate to his base, like something the mafia might do as a threat. There was a single sign next to it: Feel free to alter or remove - Etho. It's incredible, seeing his likeness through someone else's eyes. He didn't know his hair was so fluffy, his smile so sharp. He picks up the head with a grunt (Bloomin' heck, is this thing solid quartz?!) and moves it somewhere it can be seen, before pulling a book from the chest under his mailbox and penning his sculptor a message.

[bucksdaffy]

okay, so i've seen some people claim that tim minear is an avid buddie shipper and that he's slowly but surely laying the groundwork for buck and eddie to become canon in the future and...

i'm just thoroughly confused about this assertion.

i'll preface this by saying i'm very new to the fandom, so i'm prepared to be wrong about this. i'm aware i may lack crucial context because i've been here only so long. also, i don't know tim personally, so i obviously can't speak to his true intentions, but i'll make my case anyway.

i'll cite two RECENT comments by tim that i assume people might draw this conclusion from:

[?: There is a sect of the fandom that just wants 9-1-1 to be the Buck and Eddie show, and any cut that removes a second of them is going to get the same reaction. Nothing short of renaming the show "Christopher's Two Dads" is going to make them happy.] T: I totally get that. I even appreciate it. Which explains the entire first act of last night's episode. I kind of did for the Buck/Eddie fans (I mean I really do it for myself in the end). I just thought... they'd like it? Shrug. I liked it, so whatever.

Minear tells Rolling Stone that he hasn’t just been aware of fan reactions, he’s actually changed storylines in the past to avoid being accused of queerbaiting. But rather than help, he says it made the show worse. “Nobody wants to be accused of queerbaiting so I kind of stopped writing those characters together. And I think it hurt the show because I was so afraid to be accused of something that I wasn’t going where I would naturally go with the stories,” Minear says. “I just decided that I just have to write the thing that I think is right. I just have to be honest with the story I’m telling and let the chips fall where they may.”

now, i may be biased, but this doesn't read to me like he plans on buddie endgame at all.

while it's clear he loves the bond between buck and eddie and enjoys highlighting it in the show, saying he totally wants them to end up together feels like a reach.

he discusses being accused of queerbaiting in the past, which led him to backtrack a little and stop writing buck and eddie together. how does this suggest he did it because he wants buddie to become canon? if that were his intention he could have continued to drop more (apparent!) hints that buck and eddie may love each other in a non-platonic way. he wouldn't care about the accusations of queerbaiting so much, because he would be planning to make them canon all along. sure, there are external constraints that could prevent this from ever materializing, but that doesn't mean he couldn't write the dialogue in a clearly ambiguous way so that once he gets a pass and everyone else involved is on board with it, he could confirm that "yeah, you were right; it was a good ol' friends-to-lovers slow burn trope all along. congrats!!" no. instead he backtracked because he didn't want anyone to think he was writing buddie as anything other than a platonic relationship. that's it. but he eventually realized it doesn't really matter because people are going to think what they want to think regardless. and he obviously loves buck and eddie's friendship so he might as well just make the most out of it at this point. and if he ever feels like maybe it is a good time to turn their friendship into something more because it feels right for story, he'll go for it. but if not, he won't.

i see a lot of people claim buddie is a six-season-long slow burn, being carefully crafted right now for future canonization. and they say tim basically confirmed this. but i really can't see his comments being a confirmation of the sort.

if there are any quotes i'm missing that suggest otherwise, i would love to go through them. so if anyone's aware of any, please don't hesitate to hit me up.

but at the moment i believe y'all are just setting yourselves up for disappointment.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

Yautja X Reader who has stretch marks

I believe someone else has written this prompt before but I've only seen one other before so I wanted to make one too as I really loved what they wrote. Recently I've been working on accepting my stretch marks and learning to love them so I feel like writing this can help me and hopefully other people too.

Warnings: talks of stretch marks, body touching, possible mention of sexual acts, incorrect description of stretch marks

If you feel I missed a warnig please comment or dm me and I will immediately add it.

Minors don't interact this isn't the blog for you!

Contains: yautja absolutely loving their partners body, worshiping their partners body, being possesive space cats, samples of a male and yautja separately but if you want to imagine their both your mates absolutely go for it, no gender specified or in mind, mostly fluff

Written on a phone sorry if it looks odd if your on some other device

-----------------------------------------

Male Yautja

When he first sees your he does a double take. He thought were scars at first and wanted to know was beast caused them. This poor man was so confused when you explained to him that they weren't scars but in fact stretch marks. You might have to spend a lot of time explaining it to him before he somewaht understands it.

Once he does though he will ask to touch them, he will start to trace them with interest. They do look very cool to him. He had no idea oohman skin did that. It honestly freaks him out a little, at forst he thought it meant you were going to burst out of your own skin, he felt silly for thinking that but with enough kisses he'll get over the foolish thought though it does still linger in the back of his mind.

If you wear clothes to bed that show off your stretch marks my goodness is he purring up a storm as he gently traces them while cuddling you. The stretch marks are greatly soft compared to his scares and it's a texture he rather likes. His oohman is so soft he can't keep his paws off them.

If you ever pull out a body safe marker and start drawing on your stretch marks to accentuate them and he sees?? He is asking. No he is BEGGING to let him trace them for you. He has the most concentrated look on his face, he hasn't even focused this hard on a hunt than he is in this moment. So focused on tracing each little stretch mark. Oh boy if you put your hand on his head like he works it's purr city, he's vibrating like crazy he can hardly hold the marker still.

He is in heaven, if he had a phone it would be filled with pictures of you and your stretch marks. He's never seen anything as beautiful as your before. Your mate is torn though, he wants to show you off to everyone that he has the most amazing mate in the whole universe, but he also wants to keep you all to himself and be the only one who gets to see this amazing part of you. Which one your comfortable with is what he's doing, he never wants to make his little mate uncomfortable.

Will kiss each stretch mark of you let him, please let him he will die of joy of you do.

Female Yautja

Stretch marks? No those are life battle scars.

She knows what they are and stops you when you try to correct her. To her their gained only from living each day so in her mind their your beautiful scars gained from the great battle of life and she's so proud of you.

You could have gotten them from gaining weight, giving birth, working out, absolutely anything she loves each one.

If you have them on your hips or thighs and she sees you with no pants on, she's walking up behind and grabs your hips or thighs rubbing them lightly. She'll have a proid smile on her face as she admires her mate.

She will ask if she can rub oils into them, she has lots of diffrent oils and lotions she takes skin care very serious and wants you too as well. Actually she just wants to touch you but hey if she gets to rub oils into you that's just a bonus.

If anyone ever says something even slightly negative about you or your stretch marks their gone, no ones seeing them ever again. Poof. No one insults her mate. She's flair her mandibles angrily at them first bit later after you've gone to sleep she'll slip out to go deal with the trash.

No doubt if she lives with you she'll hide your clothes. If you have stretch marks on your legs you'll find all your pants suddenly missing, or your shirt if you have them on your shoulders or chest. She'll deny it at first before eventually giving you your clothes back. May or may not keep a shirt though so she can sniff it when she's away.

You have stretch marks on your inner thighs? She wants a closer look, you should totally wrap them around her head so she can get that close look please. May do grabby hands if she's feelimg needy about it. Your comfy and she loves holding you can you blame her for wanting to cuddle you after a hard day? No promises that she won't playfully nip at your thighs.

[pretty-toru]

Recently I've been thinking about how Gojo would introduce his non-sorcerer s/o who's completely unaware of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery about that part of his life. And he'd maybe start by explaining his blindfold or black-out sunglasses.

I'd like to think that he still sometimes forgets about the small things and shows up at your doorstep in his teacher's uniform paired with his blindfold after a tiresome day of work. You've never really seen him outside of his sunglasses and casual attire and Gojo has kept the details of his profession hidden from you for good reason. Now he's less careful about his appearance since he feels ready to reveal more about himself that's "otherworldly".

Besides, Gojo thinks that it's easier to break the news about how he's part of the Big Three Clans, inherited this special pair of Six Eyes, and he's the Strongest Sorcerer who exorcises curses for a living AFTER you've fallen so hopelessly in love with him that you'll choose to stay with him no matter. (You'd probably flat-out reject him if you knew from the beginning).

So when you answer the door doing a once over of a strange and tall man dressed in dark clothing with his eyes covered sporting a wide grin upon seeing you, you're almost wary as you keep the door open enough just to see out.

"...Can I help you?"

"I've had a long day, sweetheart. Aren't you going to let me in?"

"???" "Sorry? But who are you?"

"Ah, right right. Gimme one second." Gojo then removes the cloth obscuring his eyes and his soft white hair cascades over his forehead as he switches to his sunglasses and you suddenly realize that the stranger is indeed your boyfriend. "You know, I'm actually hurt you didn't recognize me because I'd know you anywhere, angel."

You're dumbfounded as you lower your guard and Gojo enters your apartment and places a kiss on your pretty lips, commenting about how something smells amazing and asks what's cooking for dinner while he unzips his outerwear and tosses it on your couch. But you're still dazed about what just happened and it felt too weird to simply gloss over the fact. "Hang on, aren't we going to talk about what just happened?"

"Hm? Talk about what?" Gojo feigns perfect innocence, making his sweet way to your cabinets and drawers to retrieve two plates and utensils after observing the table hadn't been set yet.

"Your blindfold? And what you're wearing?" Your hand is placed firmly on your hip with a skewed expression, gesturing the wooden spoon in your grip that was used to stir the pot of beef stew at him.

"It's my work uniform. The blindfold is part of it."

"I'm confused, I thought you were a teacher? How are you able to see in that?"

"I'll tell you all about it once I have some of your delicious food in me, okay hun?" Gojo's quick in his stride to set the dishes in their rightful places before he's gently cooing your suspicions away and leading you back into the kitchen with his hand on the small of your back. "C'mon I'll help you finish dinner then I'll answer your questions. I promise you."

You deflate with a sigh. "...Okay."

After enjoying dinner, Gojo helps you clear the table and with all the promises he makes to you he earnestly keeps. He's quite sure you'll come up with more questions than you already have as he's slowly but surely eases you into his world as a shaman — his way of telling you that he’s serious about you. Gojo loves and trusts you enough to reveal all the parts of himself to you in due time, and he can only hope that you'll wholeheartedly accept him in his entirety.

[pasteloctoz]

Hi there! So- @ajfromthestarss and @darlin-collins decided they wanted some angst and gave me the prompt "Darlin has a nightmare‼️ Sam comforts them🔥the nightmare was abt Quinn ‼️" So I wrote it. Fair warning- this is a bit intense, though it's also the first time I've posted angst before. But also, because I felt like this was pretty intense, there's some fluff at the end cause DAMN Darlin needs it. Also, It's 1,749 words so that's something.

Anyways, triggers: flashback to trauma, with mentions of character death and light details of body horror, there's a small panic attack and what I would consider a bit of a dissociative episode after the flashback, though that bit isn't too bad. I also kinda leaned into the canonicity of Darlin having body issues, specifically toward their scars so be aware of that. Like I said this was intense to even write about.

The ghosts of your past

You find yourself curled in bed, comfortable, scrolling on your phone. It was close to midnight and your mate was fast asleep next to you. Despite not needing sleep, he enjoyed it when the two of you would lay in bed together until one of you fell asleep. This time he was the one who fell asleep first.

You turn over onto your back, turning off your phone. Looking up at the ceiling, you thought about everything that had happened recently. Thoughts and feelings mixed in knots that desperately needed to be untied. Though, at that moment, there was no one there to untie those knots. No one to reassure you that everything would be okay. So, you let your mind wander, and before long, you were fast asleep.

When you opened your eyes, you felt for the dip in the bed where your mate layed. He wasn’t there which was to be expected with the way he slept. What was weird was that the dip didn’t even exist anymore. You got up, reaching for your phone on your nightstand, only to grab the air. Confused, you examined the room. It was familiar, you knew that much.

Your heart skipped a beat. You were in the small, unfurnished apartment you shared with him years ago. There was a gentle humming coming from outside the bedroom door. You recognized the humming from anywhere. He was here. Immediately your anger was pressed down by a solemn, calculated feeling. You took a deep breath and thought, “Now’s a better time than any, I guess.”

You opened the door, yawning while pulling up your hair into the signature bun you wore when you were with him. You noticed that your normal orange creme-colored pajamas had been replaced with some very old blue and white pajamas that you never wore anymore. You were nervous upon seeing your ex. Though, you didn’t know why. The last time you saw him you felt a strong deal of hate. You couldn’t recall the last time you had seen him for some reason. You didn’t care as you focused on the conversation.

“Hey, precious,” He smirked as he let a long breath of smoke out, almost like a dragon. The smoke detector was laid out on the kitchen island as he leaned against it. He never bothered to open a window, but he would put in all the effort to take apart a smoke detector… or at least mangle it ‘til it stopped screeching.

He handed you a cigar, to which you declined, “Not today…”

“C’mon precious, it’s just one. I know you don’t like them, but it’ll grow on you. Trust me.”

You ignored his comment, which seemed to get on his nerves. Though, he kept his cool as you spoke to him. You figured you’d pull the bandaid right off, “I- I think we should break up.” A chill went down your spine. It was that night. The night that you truly felt alone after so long.

“No,” you thought, “Not again. I can’t live through this night again. No. I- I have a mate. An actual mate th- that cares about me- Hi- His name is… What was his name?” You couldn’t remember your mate’s name even though it was on the tip of your tongue. You weren’t in control of your actions. You couldn’t tell him to fuck off. You couldn’t go see your friend, you couldn’t protect them. You were helpless to let this play out the way it always did. Whether it was in your head or in real life.

Your vision went black and within a few seconds, you found yourself wandering a dark void, helpless, alone, and scared. Eventually, you came across your friend, unempowered, helpless, and scared. They lay on the floor in front of you, staring into the abyss above you. Quickly, you rush to their side, worried. As you hold them in your arms, you take in the familiarity of their mutilated body. The bite marks, the scratches, even the small burns caused by your ex’s weak magic. You knew this part, you knew they’d still be alive you just had to get them to the hospital. You brushed their bangs out of their eyes, whispering gently to them, “Everything’s going to be okay, I can fix this,” but dropped them quickly when you realized their eyes were lifeless. You backed up quickly before bumping into something.

“Hello, precious,” your ex’s accent startled you as you whipped around, quickly to see nothing.

You heard him behind you again, “How’s your mate doing?” He spoke in the normal, teasing tone he used when he spoke to you last, “And his progeny? Oh, I’d give anything to see Fred now that I’m gone officially. Kind of makes me wish I had taken him the first time I met him.”

“How are you-”

“Nevermind that, I just wanted to let you know that no matter where you are. And no matter where I am, Sam is never safe-”

You wake up in a cold sweat and frantically look to your side. There he was, your mate, sound asleep. Catching your breath, you check the time… 3:34 am. You sigh and carefully make your way out of the room you shared with your mate, careful not to wake him up. You make your way to the bathroom after grabbing your clothing for the day. All of your thoughts and feelings were a jumbled mess.

You felt your heart was still racing as you walked over to the sink. You looked into the mirror, giving yourself a second to breathe. As you took your pajamas off, you examined the scars across your body. Slipping into your new clothes you thought for a moment, “These scars could’ve been avoided, had I not gotten with him.” Immediately you regretted your thought. If it weren’t for your ex, you wouldn’t have met your mate. Your mate that loved you, and cared for you. That didn’t excuse the things he did, and you knew that. You still held the same hate you had for him the moment he attempted to make your life a living hell.

After getting ready for the day, you sat in the kitchen drinking a coffee, thinking to yourself. You tried keeping your mind on other things, but nothing worked. You scanned the room for something to do, eventually, your eyes fell on your mate’s coat that laid across the sofa. Quickly, you finished your cup of coffee before grabbing a monster from the fridge and wrapping yourself in the coat. Instantly, you felt better as you walked out to the front porch and scanned the tree line surrounding the house.

After a while, you hear the gentle voice of your mate, “Darlin’? Did you fall asleep on the porch?”

You yawn, realizing that the sky was now fading into the morning. It was almost dawn, and Sam was out there to wake you up, “... What? Oh, yeah… I guess I did. Sorry ‘bout that.” You got up, remembering that you brought a monster with you outside. The can still felt cold, and you realized that your hands and feet were icy cold as well.

“Don’t apologize, I just seemed to get out of bed at the right time,” He reached out for your hand and was startled to find out how cold it was. “Jesus, Darlin’! How long have you been out here?”

You shrugged, “4:10 just about.”

He looked at you, concerned, “The hell were you doing up at 4:10!?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, why not?” his face softened, though his accent was harsh along with his tone.

You decided it would be best to tell him the truth as the two of you made it into the living room, “I had a nightmare.”

The two of you sat down on the couch as worry crossed his face. It seemed to make sense to him after everything that had happened recently, “... Was it about him?”

You rubbed your arm awkwardly, “Yes.”

Immediately, your mate held your hand in his, tightly. He looked you in the eyes and spoke in a gentle, loving tone, “He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I- I know… I’m just angry, I guess,” you gazed into his silver eyes as a soft smile teased the corners of your mouth. Just being near him would make you feel better about anything. You continued to speak as he looked confused, “I didn’t think that after it was all set and done with that he’d still bother me. I didn’t think he ever had that much of an effect on me.”

“Darlin’... I- Can I give you a hug?” you nodded and he held you as closely as you’d allow him to. He continued speaking to you as he embraced you, “Just because the problem is fixed doesn’t mean that all the… damage he caused you are healed. It takes time and patience to let a wound heal, and he left a pretty big fuckin’ wound. I should know.”

“I thought he would go away finally. I thought that he would stop haunting me. I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened, what I could’ve done, what I could’ve said. I don’t even want to think about him, I just want him to leave me alone.”

“Darlin’, even though you have ghosts in your past, you shouldn’t let those ghosts affect you in the present. What happened has happened. And I don’t know about you but even though there were some hardships, I’m happy the way it turned out. Because now I have you,” He held you tighter and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“Sam… I love you,” you said, finally coming to terms with the fact that you would need time to heal. You knew that every step of the way Sam would be there, to comfort and take care of you.

“I love you too, Darlin’... You wanna know something?” He asked you as you pulled away to look at him.

“What?”

“I think It’s pretty damn cute that you wore my coat to go fall asleep on the porch.”

“I was cold.” You told him, smiling mischievously.

“Really? So that’s why you had your arms wrapped around yourself like you were giving yourself a big hug?” He smiled as he teased you.

“Just let me have this one,” you said as you sat closer to him and cuddled into his chest.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

can i req like xavier x reader where theyre rivals but readers liked xavier for a while now but xavier has no clue. xavier always teases reader when he gets the opportunity to yk but one day he has been like avoiding reader/not talking to them for some reason and reader confronts him abt it

oo

WHAT'S THE POINT?

pairings: Xavier Thorpe x Reader Summary: ^^^ Warnings: light swearing

it's really frustrating when you have a slight crush on a guy that says he hates your guts.

you don't even know why or how you like him, you should hate him by the way he talks to you, the way he speaks about you. but there's just something about him that's so...enticing.

maybe it's his eyes, his deep hazel eyes. so harsh at first look but shows something deeper than that when you look deeper

or his hair, his long light brown hair, looking so soft making you want to run your hands through it.

or maybe his lips, the same lips that held the harsh words, but the same lips that were so plump and pink that made him look so...kissable.

but it didn't matter what made you take a liking to him, the fact is you do and that was that.

but every mean comment seemed to hurt a little more because of that fact.

but you thought back to all the times he was arguing with you, and questioned if it was actually flirting instead of fighting.

-

you smiled down at your paper, seeing the mark written in red at the top.

you had spent ages studying for the test and it seemed to pay off.

you looked up in front of you to where Xavier sat where he proudly showed you his mark, smirking at you as you looked at his 100%!

you rolled your eyes, sighing at his childishness

"better luck next time, sweetheart" he winked

"you would you know if I didn't get the same mark?" you questioned

"did you?" he raised an eyebrow

"just shut up" you groaned

"aw, don't worry, you'll beat me next time, dingus" he pouted

-

an during the poe cup.

you tripped over and cut you knee, the blood pooling out and sliding down your leg.

you winced in pain and held onto your thigh to to stop the bleeding as two Jesters came running to get their flag

"Go and get it" Xaveri yelled to Ajax as he stopped in front of you.

"how could you possibly do that, idiot" he chuckled as he bent down to your level

"oh piss off" you whined

"are you ok?" he helped you up slowly

"I'm fine" you sniffed

"are you sure, you can always tell me when you feel small or hurt or like you've failed and lost" he smiled smugly

"you'd love that wouldn't you?"

"I would, I would really would" he nodded cockily

-

but you highly doubted it was flirting, i mean it couldn't be, could it?

but he did always have a reason to talk to you, either to rub in your face that he got a good mark, to ask you how you are sarcastically or to just tell you that you should do better and try harder

but recently he hasn't been doing that, he hasn't been near you at all.

you haven't seen him in a week, in fact and it was pissing you off.

you always had a snarky comeback to throw at him when he insulted you.

but now that he hasn't come to do any of those, you haven't been able to do that and it made you mad.

so you went off to find him.

following him through corridors past people, you managed to catch up to him.

"hey! Xavier, wait up!" you called out to him, he stopped walking and turned around to see who it was

"what now?" he huffed

"what are you planning?" you questioned him as you stood in front of him

"what do you mean?" he asked

"you've been avoiding me" you crossed your arms

"just because I haven't talked to you doesn't mean I've been avoiding you, besides, we're not friends, I'm not obligated to talk to you" he announced coldly

"I know that" you paused "but it's not like you"

"it's not like me how?" he shook his head confused

"you always find an excuse to talk to me, but you haven't bothered lately, why?" you inquired

"what's the point? all we do is bicker, it never gets anywhere, so why bother?" he glared at you softly- if that was even possible

"well that's not my fault" you argued

"yes! yes it is your fault! it is all your fault. everything is your fault!" he yelled at you, frightening you at his sudden outburst

"no it's not, I haven't done anything!" you replied

"yes it is! you drive me insane!" he covered his face aggressively

"that's not my fault!" you scoffed

"yes it is! everything about you drives me crazy!" he spoke anxiously

"what's that supposed to mean?" you questioned

"it means that they way you laugh at things even when they aren't funny, the way you always have a smile on your face, the way you try your hardest to do your best at school, the way you always know what to say to cheer someone up, the way you see the best in anyone, even when they are the worst possible person ever and the way you make me feel drives me absolutely insane." he admitted

you were silent, seeing that he wasn't exactly done with what he was saying

"and I get to experience none of those for myself, none of those things are for me" he muttered

"what's your point?" you tilted your head in confusion

he turned to look away before looking back at you, the corner of his lips lifting to a smirk.

"my point is that I want you to do those things with me, but all I get is you rolling your eyes and scoffing before you walk away" he said

"so what you're saying is that..." you took a deep breath, looking directly in his eyes

he sighed "it doesn't matter what I'm saying, it won't change anything, because you don't like me back" he whispered the last bit

"are you kidding?" you chuckled

he rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek

"I've liked you for ages! but you were too dumb and oblivious by rivalry to even notice it!" you confessed

"oh"

"yeah" you gulped

"well- um, I won't avoid you anymore then" he coughed awkwardly

"seriously" you huffed, throwing your hands by your sides

"well, would you want to do something sometime?" he asked

"yeah" you smiled "yeah, I'd like that"

------------------------------------------------

[therainbowwillow]

I am not by any means someone who has a large platform on the internet, but seeing as my most popular post of all time, seen by tens of thousands of people, was on hbomberguy's Plagiarism and You(Tube), I would like to publicly get my thoughts straight on what has happened since.

I've seen a lot of discussion about who is to blame for James' recent mental health crisis and I would like to firmly state that hbomberguy (and Kat, his producer), others who made good faith videos on the situation (The Ace Couple, Jessie Gender, Todd in the Shadows), and people who commented on the situation in good faith are not to blame in the slightest. At the same time, I understand that the sudden loss of support, friends, and a career undoubtedly harmed James Somerton and that it is upsetting to me to see anyone put in that position, regardless of their actions. I believe that hbomberguy used his platform responsibly. From the beginning, I noticed that he was making clear, intentional choices regarding his treatment of the situation, including framing Nick as a possible victim rather than an accomplice to the plagiarism, reminding his audience not to harass James Somerton, and refusing to stoop to personal attacks in his video. Having seen hbomberguy's professional handling of the situation, I believe that he is a person who has a good understanding of the sway he has online and how to use that power delicately. I'm sure a choice was made weighing the benefit of speaking out against the possible harm and I believe that hbomberguy & crew made the correct decision. The same goes for The Ace Couple, Jessie Gender, and Todd in the Shadows. I think it is a creator's duty to understand that regardless of how professionally they treat a situation, there are bound to be some bad actors in their audience who will attempt to harass others in their name. It seems to me that all of these creators understood that and made an educated decision to speak out publicly. Had they kept quiet, harm would have continued to be done to the authors and artists who had their work stolen and monetized by someone who did not fairly compensate them (or even acknowledge their existence). With this in mind, I do believe that it is important to have empathy for James as well. I understand feeling hurt, betrayed, and skeptical of the legitimacy of everything he says from this point on, knowing what we know now about how he built his career. I have those feelings myself. They are valid. However, there is no situation in which people should be publicly speculating on the legitimacy of his mental health struggles or celebrating his suffering. I do believe that James knew what he was doing, I believe he knew that he was causing some harm (to what extent he understood that, no one but James can say), and I do believe that it was wrong. At this point, the community does as well. I think the best thing for him would've been to step away from the internet, but at the same time, I understand why he did not. He went from being a fairly popular online queer voice to one of the community's most hated content creators. I imagine there was some whiplash and confusion and that it must've been upsetting and scary. James did not make the right decision in trying to come back and that poor choice was his own, but at the same time, I don't think there's much use in rehashing that to him in the comments of his apology or on Twitter.

I don't think it would've been any better to let his actions fade to complete obscurity, but I also believe that trying to hold him immediately accountable was doomed from the start. If there was a path forward as a content creator, James strayed far from it. Regardless, I think the moral thing to do right now is to treat him with grace and not speculate about his honesty or intentions online. I hesitate to invalidate people's concerns, but regardless, they don't belong in the public sphere at this moment.

Ultimately, I wish James the best. I hope he finds safety, comfort, and happiness going forwards. I also wish hbomberguy & team as well as all the other creators and audience members who spoke to their experiences in good faith all the best. These people are not to blame for James' mental health struggles. If we mean to reduce as much harm as possible, I think the ideal path forwards is show empathy for everyone involved and lay the idea of blame to rest.

[blocksruinedme]

(hi there! sorry if this is disrespectful or anything, feel free to delete this ask! i was just concerned because in the comments of jimmy's recent videos, it seems that he might make a video reacting to fanfictions...

very concerning! especially because it seems like he didn't contact the creators of the edits in newest video beforehand. no offense to him, but i genuinely do not trust him to handle fanfiction in a respectful way. he's very hard-working, but he's getting dangerously content-brained!

anyways, the reason i'm sending this ask to you is because you seem to frequent his streams a lot. VERY sorry if this is disrespectful to ask, but if you do attend his next stream, is it ok to ask that you try and send a message in his chat? i would myself, but he streams after midnight where i live T^T i really hope that someone well-versed in the rules of fandom spaces (maybe scott (ｰ ｰ;) ) can talk him out of it, but i would be very grateful if any chatters could discourage him during his next live.

thank you very much for reading!!)

-a shy chinese anon who experienced the banning of ao3 in china because fans of a celebrity mass-reported an rpf fic to the government :<

(Hey shy anon, I didn't show up until a little after the ban, but I was on the english side of that fandom so i know a lot. my eternal condolences, I'll never stop being upset about what happened!)

It is not at all disrespectful to ask politely, which you have! I am not going to send a message in his chat because it is an absolute hellhole, but people I know have left thoughtful comments on his youtube, which I think is 20x more useful. He sees those in his own time and can think about it. Chat is running nonstop, super fast, you get instant reaction in the chat from all kinds of sorts - seriously i love jimmy and i have nothing against younger people, but holy hell that chat is mostly intolerable to read. Most streams I don't even have it visible. Jimmy has very little time to think in response to chat messages, it can't be nuanced, and the first thing he says is now public record.

Overall, I don't think Jimmy will react to fanfic. If he does (and I've been wrong predicting Jimmy before!), it's going to be something like Wholesome Seablings Adventures. I can not imagine Jimmy reading ship fic - unless I guess it's incredibly pg canon-ship? There's all kinds of "pg youtubers", and Jimmy's more on the Katherine side of thing, appealing to families and genuinely little kids. If you look at the saucy things he lets in, you generally need some real non-pg context for it to feel non-pg. (there's always exceptions)

When people demand he address shipping he tries to say as little as possible. He's been shown nsfw fanart while he was streaming. He knows what is going on and he's not going to touch that. He's thoughtful when it counts, and since these aren't stream reacts, he has time to think hard about what he's actually going to use. So if he did do fanfic, there would be plenty of never seen footage of Jimmy of going "holy moly!" and moving on. When it matters, he is generally thoughtful and respectful.

Like the time he realized he was confused about asexuality (he didn't know about aromanticism) and slowed down to be really careful he didn't say anything accidentally hurtful. (for context shelby is ace but dates and he knows that. look at his poor little face trying to understand.)

Maybe he'll mess up this time, I sure hope not, but I'm not personally freaking out.

Also, exactly one time he opened tumblr on stream, it was the sexyman poll, and he read my reply to the post (i'm the one who called him a wet paper bag of a man, my claim to fame.) I showed up to apologize, he was a sweetheart, and he said this about tumblr, that he knows we want our own private space. He's respectful at heart.

I am not on tiktok, but until your ask, I'll admit it never occurred to me he might contact the creators before reacting. Thinking on it, I guess I think of TikTok like youtube, where it is loudly tossed out at the whole world for attention, but I'm not on TikTok.

And why do I think ao3 is different? Well, I have no coherent answer besides "vibes" and "more contained audience" and "everyone knows everyone is on youtube and tiktok".

Here are some more Jimmy clips I've wanted to share on tumblr for one reason or another.

In the end, I have been hyperfixating on this man for sixteen months and I believe it'll be okay. If I'm wrong, well. We'll make it through this, gang. We'll take care of each other and keep going. Nothing's stopped us yet!

If you want to say something to Jimmy, leave a yt comment, don't go into his stream, please, not there, you'll just provoke people and he might have to respond to that, please

Everyone out there who read ao3 not logged in - go log in, people are locking things.

People on ao3, lock or don't lock, as you see fit!

(also joel lizzie and oli did fanfic readings/reenactments/whatever years ago, including writing their own snippets, i got through like 90 seconds of one, youtube at your own risk.)

[thejadedjewel]

Little Muppet Sesame Things #50!

When Family's Grieve is considered to be a spiritual successor of Farewell Mr. Hooper, which I completely agree with. It takes that concept of a loved one dying and expanding it to help kids process grief and the loss of someone.

Having Elmo being the one being told what death is was an understandable choice. He's younger than Big Bird was when he was told about death, but they made it something much more close to home. The special was made for military families like Elmo's dad being deployed and Rosita coping with her Papi being in a wheelchair. So, who was it that Elmo is being reminded that had died?

His Uncle Jack. A previously unknown character and part of his family. Jack was Elmo's dad, Louie's little brother, loved baseball and jokes, and had a wife, Jill, and daughter, Jesse...

And he had recently died.

We get to see how adults cope with the passing of someone, mainly a loved one. Jill's comment about "we were always Jack and Jill, but now...," just makes it more of a gutpunch and shows to kids that adults can also be upset over someone dying.

We also see them helping explain to Elmo that, yeah, Uncle Jack isn't alive anymore, and it's ok to have a lot of feelings. Adults do, too. Also, Jill, you hair is incredible, honey.

And then there's Jesse. We see how other kids can express grief in different ways. While Elmo is confused and feeling a whole lot of emotions, Jesse's trying to hide her own feelings about her dad dying. However, people bring him up and seeing Elmo and Louie hugging makes her remember her daddy. Quick aside, I love Rosita being a good amiga and offer words of comfort, even bring up the fact she knows how hard change can be, referencing what happened to her Papi. I love when Sesame keeps continuity.

Some people I've seen online had come up with a fridge horror/sadness theory on what happened to Uncle Jack. Since Louie's in the military and Rosita's Papi, Ricardo, was said to have been injured while in the military... what if Uncle Jack had died as part of the military? What if the thing that left Ricardo in the wheelchair... you know, led to Jack's death? It's a morbid thought, I know, but some people have some interesting, if dark, thoughts, and it could add more to why Louie is upset. It wasn't just that his little brother died, it was that they were both in the military... and only one came back alive while a friend of theirs, Ricardo, was injured so badly he was left in a wheelchair and would later be revealed to have a brain injury that made him have 'stormy moods'.

It also would explain how Rosita knows Jesse. It wasn't just through Elmo, it was through their dads that they know each other.

We do at least have some happiness and lightness shine through at the end with Jesse opening up more about her feelings, remembering good times thanks to Elmo bring Jack's favorite hat, and revealing that she has a special box that she carries around in her bag filled with her memories of her dad: funny teeth, his favorite tacky bowtie, drawings and photos, and mementos of things they've done. Like I said with the Mr Hooper passing in the past bit, it's good to have things like pictures and mementos to remember the one you loss, to think about the good times you had with them. That's what I have to think about the people I've lost.

So thank you, Uncle Jack, and rest in peace.

Say hi to my Uncle Tom, Uncle John, and Uncle Mitchell, and my grandparents if you see them. And tell Mr. Hooper he still lives on in his store.

[magniloquent-raven]

Sexuality headcanon for Billy?

Prepare for probably more rambling than necessary to answer this question, because I have a lot of thoughts about Billy!

I've always seen him as 100% gay, and fully aware of it since he was a kid.

I think his mom knew too, maybe before he did. They never talked about it, she never would've brought it up because there was no way of knowing where/when it would be safe to, but on some level I think Billy knew that she knew. She'd have a grim, knowing look on her face whenever Neil made pointed comments, and it was the only kind of bullying she never defended him against.

Before she left he figured she just didn't want to draw attention. He imagined that if he was ever honest with her she'd accept him unconditionally. After she left he started to wonder if she'd decided raising some little queer was too much work. Maybe she never argued with Neil when he called Billy a fag because deep down she agreed with him. Maybe she always resented Billy for being this way.

(I think the reality of it would be more complicated than that. She might've been a little uncomfortable, a little confused about how to handle her son being "different." She didn't have any idea how to argue with Neil without confirming all his suspicions about his son and putting Billy in even more danger. I think if Billy had ever said anything she would have been terrified that the wrong person might hear him, and that fear might've made her react badly, but she would have tried to be supportive, and she would've made it there eventually, if she'd had time.)

I also just really like the idea of him being somewhere on the ace spectrum. I don't always write him that way but it IS always tickling the back of my brain. Like, he's such a character who uses sex as anything but what it should be between well-adjusted adults. It's part of the tough guy persona, it's a power play, it's for flirting answers out of people, it's a way to control his interactions with older women because he doesn't want anyone mothering him. He enjoys being hot and the fact that it gives him leverage, that doesn't mean he actually wants to fuck anyone.

His weird obsession with Steve could come down to the fact that he's not stable, just, in general (and that's definitely playing a part lol) but I like toying with the idea that either he has this massive nonsexual crush on Steve and the weird split between his internalized homophobia being pissed at him for having gay feelings at all and his internalized aphobia being disgusted at him for not wanting to fuck Steve, because what kind of teenager with a crush doesn't want to get their dick involved (and toxic masculinity making a whole mess of both issues). OR he is sexually attracted to Steve and it's not a thing that happens to him much because he's somewhere in the grey-ace area, so he has no idea how to handle it. And he handles it poorly.

Fun little side note, I've recently become half-jokingly into to the idea of Billy deciding to pursue Chrissy romantically (for three reasons 1) he does not like Jason, who has a really obvious crush on Chrissy 2) he needs to be seen dating girls in order to feel secure and 3) they're actually kind of friends and he's tired of dating annoying girls) only to develop actual feelings and have an entire crisis about it. Months after he's tentatively started accepting he might be bisexual, Chrissy comes out as transmasc and he's like OH.

I just think the conversation would be hilarious, Chrissy coming into it like, worried that Billy will feel different about their relationship, all prepared with a speech and an exit plan if one becomes necessary, and then Billy's reaction is basically just "Yeah, that's kind of comforting actually."

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Transmasc tip: get an eyebrow pencil!

I've seen lots of posts about contouring and masculine makeup but I don't own any of that stuff and I don't have the time and energy to do it every day. But I've found that just filling out my eyebrows is actually really effective in making my whole face more masc-looking, and it only takes a few minutes!

Lee says:

When I was younger (maybe in middle school?) I asked for makeup for Christmas, despite having sensory issues and no interest in makeup, because it seemed like something that 'other girls' had and did so I wanted to have it and do it too.

My aunt bought me a compact of makeup (the little box thing that has a few sections of makeup inside it) and I was pleased since I had asked for makeup and received it, but I didn't really know what the next step was so I asked her how to put it on.

She seemed pretty confident when she showed me how, and I thought it was great fun, and we went to show my mom and I showed her each of the little sections in the box and explained what to do with them as my aunt had shown me.

And that's when my mom explained that we had been doing it all wrong-- the stuff we put on our eyelids was blush, not eye shadow, the stuff we put on our cheeks was lipstick, not blush, the glittery stuff that we just kind of applied all over the face was actually eye shadow and not setting powder, etc. and the end result was we both looked clown-ish.

My aunt had some neurological stuff going on so that's probably why she was confused, and she didn't wear makeup when I knew her as an adult anyway, and I had never seen anyone put makeup on so I had no clue either.

I'm sharing this story because I wanted to share a silly experience that I had with my aunt (who I miss a lot because she has recently passed), but also because it goes to show you that if you don't get feedback from someone who knows more about it, you might not know what's goin on.

So to my fellow transmasc folks who have never heard of an eyebrow pencil before but think that they can just walk down to the pharmacy and locate and identify an eyebrow pencil and buy it and go home and draw on their eyebrows and look more masculine but in a discreet way where people don't realize that they're wearing makeup-- please get a friend or family member to take a look at the result before you go out into the world! Make sure they also agree that it looks subtle and won't look like you're obviously wearing makeup.

Some folks might assume that was the look you wanted and not say anything, and others might assume that you didn't intend that look but also be too polite to say anything, so don't assume that people haven't noticed if they don't comment on it-- that's why it's important to get feedback from a trusted friend who will tell you the truth.

You may also be able to tell if it's working simply by noticing whether you get misgendered more frequently (which means you've applied it wrong and it's backfired), less frequently (the makeup is applied correctly and is working), or whether it's the same (it has no effect but you may want to continue doing it if it makes you feel good).

Obviously, this story and warning does not apply to those of you who are not-like-me. If you already know what an eyebrow pencil is and have seen one in use, or are willing to watch tutorials on it, then please proceed ahead!

But folks who are unfamiliar with makeup and had to google the makeup words in this post need to be aware that using an eyebrow pencil to fill in your eyebrow may end up making you look more feminine instead of less.

If you overshoot and apply too much or use the wrong color, the effect can come off as wearing-makeup-but-badly instead of looking natural, and you can't always tell how it looks by taking a selfie-- it may be more noticeable to another person in the sunlight outside than it is in your camera in your room.

Anyhow, thank you for the tip anon :)

[the-new-pokespe-futures]

Announcement:

A Little Something to all Toxic Chain Possession Kieran AUs out there...

TC Pecharunt: "Hey Guys, so um, about a little something we're cooking up with...we're actually screwed. Not in that way, we had some screw ups here and there and uh...yeah. But anyways, I have some good news! So, who's ready for-

S&S Pecharunt: "Oh, will you shut it? We're barely getting the team together! It's pointless!

TC Pecharunt: "... What?"

S&S Pecharunt: "Have you seen ANY of our creators interacting with one another? No! Plus, some of these creators never get anything done."

TC Pecharunt: "Ok first of all, how did you get here? And second of all, what makes you think that way?"

S&S Pecharunt: "It's only been roughly a MONTH since our event was released and people have been hyping up for the leaks of us only to get disappointed by the supposed 'really good' 'Mochi Mayhem'. It's only the fanmade Toxic Chain Possession Aus, Toxic Chain pokemon and theories that's helping us.

TC Pecharunt: *grumbles* "Have you been looking at Twitter again?"

S&S Pecharunt: "You mean 'X'?"

TC Pecharunt: "TWITTER, X, WHATEVER IT'S CALLED!! Why did they even change it...But the point is, those people are just haters and enjoy being toxic. Don't you dare tell me you actually believe them!"

S&S Pecharunt: "So where is it? Huh? They have been working on their Aus for quite some time, yet some of the Aus and stories are incomplete AND some of them have improper schedules when posting their stories!

TC Pecharunt: "You do realise that these people are doing this for fun right? But they still are actual people with lives, schedules, family, friends and not dedicated their entire lives to running their blogs much less the Aus?! Those people that hate the Toxic Chain Theories or others probably won't even see the Au, much less see it in-depth themselves! You have a lot of NERVE to say all of THAT to MY face!"

S&S Pecharunt: "... But the guy writing this is-"

TC Pecharunt: "GAAAAHHH, I HAD IT WITH YOU!!!"

*The 2 soon started a fight before a figure looms over them...*

???: "ENOUGH"

Both Pecharunts: 'Huh? Oh Shit it's PV-'

PV Pecharunt: "You two are annoying me, I'll take care of this myself..."

...

"I know you are there, and you have seen us. But don't fret, because we, The Korrosion Klan. WILL get you next time, watch out heroes, wherever you are, you can't run, you can't hide, and soon, your soul will be mine...hahahahaha....."

...

...

...

TC Pecharunt: "There, now are you satisfied?"

S&S Pecharunt: "Really? The people would still be confused by what's going on."

TC Pecharunt: "Ugh, gimme a second..." *Brings a piece of paper.*

"Basically, The Korrosion Klan is a group consisting of Pecharunts involved in their own Toxic Chain Possession Aus. If any user wants their Pecharunt to join the Klan, they can reply in the comments or reblog to state if they want to join. We are open throughout the year, so you can join anytime and anywhere."

"There, better?"

S&S Pecharunt: "Much better."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've been wanting to do this for some time! A crossover between the different Toxic Chain Possession Pecharunts is something I've recently thought of. I probably won't make a sideblog about it, but just a fun idea I thought of. Also, this is directly inspired by Mario's Madness Funk Kast trailer. Adn a few things were directly copied from it but most of all, it has changed.

Also, credits to the original owners of the Pecharunts:

Toxic Consequences (TC) Pecharunt belongs to @tealmaskmybeloved

Sweet & Sour Dipplins (S&S) Pecharunt belongs to @dipplinduo

Project Venus (PV) Pecharunt belongs to @milliemuus

[phil-lesterfan]

What are your thoughts on Squidbob tell me now

HI!!! i know you said now and it's been a few hours but we'll put it up to time zones. anyway, i was thinking about this ask and ultimately it's that quote from dan in that interview, right? "best friends, arch enemies, husbands, business partners, partners in crime, soul mates, just mates, who the fuck knows?"

obviously it's antagonistic, but on spongebob's part, it's unintentional (my knowledge is rusty, and i'm not fully caught up on spongebob, though i've seen a few squidbob moments from more recent eps) and when he does hurt squidward, he genuinely feels bad about it – when he picks up on it, at least. but, like, when squidward says spongebob has hurt his feelings or when it's really obvious, spongebob takes accountability and tries to right his wrong(s). even if that means making the situation worse, lol

AT THE SAME TIME, yes, squidward can really hurt spongebob and even enjoys seeing him hurt, but he understands when things have gone too far, and it seems to me like he doesn't just want to be in spongebob's good books for the sake of his reputation. take "fools in april" for example: squidward really hurts spongebob with his "prank" and it's a very public prank where people make clear their disapproval of his actions. of course, no one wants to be seen as the huge asshole, and squidward even says "it hurts, doesn't it?" to plankton when plankton becomes the most hated thing in bikini bottom. BUT when squidward apologises to spongebob, while he struggles, it's clear he wants to (he just physically can't) and he doesn't know everyone else is at spongebob's house. he genuinely just wants spongebob to like him again. (plus, he finds it humiliating when it's revealed other people are there – clearly, it's not about reputation)

the other obvious one is "dying for pie" where he puts spongebob's life in danger and realises he doesn't want to be responsible for spongebob's death nor does he really want spongebob to die at all.

it's also insanely cute to me that he's, like, as far as i know, the only one who calls spongebob "sponge" – i don't think i've heard any other character refer to spongebob like that . . . except maybe patrick? but i might be confusing it with a – you guessed it – squidbob scene.

also the way squidward's voice goes all soft when he calls "spongebob sponge" :') and how he's protective of spongebob too. like in "pizza delivery", when the customer is rude to spongebob and spongebob sobs, we can infer squidward KNOCKED THE GUY OUT!!!!! and he went back over to spongebob and reassured him that the customer was happy with the order and everything was ok :)

squidward also gets flustered when spongebob compliments him and spongebob likes it when squidward is having fun. i think deep down, they both genuinely care for each other, and they both want the other to be happy, they just have different ideas of happiness and aren't sure how to get them to align. there's really great potential there, and i personally love relationships like theirs where it's just so fucked and they're more prone for divorce but they keep remarrying anyway

sorry for this mostly focussing on squidward . . . spongebob is a bit more complicated to me bc he's a mix of childish and mature and you're never entirely sure when which facet will be more prominent. ultimately though i think they have the potential to balance each other out but still have a good time together (as in, they won't settle right into "BORED old married couple"). when i have more thoughts on spongebob's side of the relationship, i will let you know o7

i know this spawned from the "to be loved is to be changed" post tags, but for squidbob's part i feel i was mostly joking or i probably made a tblitbc comment while watching spongebob with my irl and i've forgotten why, LOL – let me think on it some more and let me watch more of the show, and i'll get back to you on that. :)