#i will literally say nothing more on this subject

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death

AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!

Much love ~ emma

“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.

“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”

You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.

“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”

He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.

He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”

“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.

Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.

“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.

“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”

She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.

You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.

“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.

Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.

“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”

You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”

As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”

When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”

Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”

For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.

“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.

If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,

 “See you Monday,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.

She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.

“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”

“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.

“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”

She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,

“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.

“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”

“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.

You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”

Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”

“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.

Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.

When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.

Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.

A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.

You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.

Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”

“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.

When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in.  A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.

You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.

“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”

She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.         

“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”

She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.

“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.

“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”

“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the

orchard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.

When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”

“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”

“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”

“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.

He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.

He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?

It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.

You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.

You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”

“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”

“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.

He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.

“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.

You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.

Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.

“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”

Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”

“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.

“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.

“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”

“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.

A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.

“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.

“Thanks baby, I see that,”

She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.

“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.

“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”

“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”

You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.

“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.

“Whichever is the most juicy!”

“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.

Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.

A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.

“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”

“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”

Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.

“Can I, mommy?”

“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”

She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.

“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.

She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.

“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”

“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.

She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.

“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.

“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.

He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”

You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”

“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”

The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.

He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.

“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”

You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”

“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”

One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.

You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”

“You do that a lot,”

“I feel it a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.

Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.

You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.

There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.

Until tonight.

Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.

It was for someone new.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

tag list - @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @cali-888 @jamdoughnutmagician @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

[or3oartz]

hey so why are people suddenly feeling bad forJax?? Have we just forgotten the past few episodes??

"he didn't deserve it" YES HE DID!

Have whatever opinion you want, but Jax has been nothing but a TERRIBLE person and needed to be humbled SO bad. Don't get me wrong, I love him- he's my third favourite tied with gangle. But he's a terrible person. How did we go from hating him after episode 2, to now suddenly thinking he didn't deserve his treatment? 😭 mind you, he's been torturing the others for years! He had it coming.

Also the new Gangle and Ragatha hate also confuses me? Let me start with Ragatha.

From what I'm aware of, the hate is from what she said to Gangle. And I get that it wasn't nice, but as soon as she says it, she does point it out herself.

Just a reminder she's literally high out of her mind with no filter. There's no thoughts in that head, because they're all coming out. that's her thought in the moment, and people think unpleasant things all the time. We're just usually able to control what we say.

Ragatha like this also makes her feel more human- she has faults just like all of us do. She's not a completely good person all the time, but who is? People love Jax for being an asshole(me included) , so why hate on Ragatha? This also applies to the Gangle hate.

People tend to hate gangle in this episode because of how she acts, but personally I love seeing her being more than sad and pathetic all the time. She's doing a job that she has experience with. Yes, she gets a little carried away sometimes, but she's also a struggling person that's already not taken seriously by her fellow circus members.

By the end of the episode she seems like she's about to lose it if it weren't for Pomni being there to take the rest of the adventure for her (take the closing shift, which I really liked.) Hell, even then it's hard to tell if she did or didn't purposely fall into traffic. and she still took the responsibility for her actions at the end in the office with Caine.

You can disagree with me if you want, I don't really care. But I feel like people are so desperate to put characters into a black and white boxes of "good" and "bad". People aren't even like that, it's really hard to be an OBJECTIVELY good or bad person, because imo, that's subjective. one person's good is another's bad, and there's also some things that aren't good nor bad.

Sorry this post is so long, I'm just very passionate about this show and the concept of a good and bad person. But honestly, good on gooseworx because you know you're doing something right when you can evoke such strong feelings from people people. Props to her 👏

[fazbearedits]

Ok but can we talk about how insane Hazel was in lost and founders day?

I mean think about it, she literally witnesses her friend (dev) realize that he means pretty much nothing to his father (with the whole statue thing) and sees dev leave upset and all, at first she feels bad and goes to comfort him but she doesn’t and want to know why?

BECAUSE SHES TO BUSY OBSESSING OVER A MOTHERFUCKING HAT. A HAT!!!!!

IM ACTUALLY SO PISSED BECAUSE WHY. WHY. WHY. HAZEL I LOVE YOU BUT I CAN NOT DEFEND YOU LIKE THIS, AND WHEN SHE GETS THE HAT, SHE SAYS “this is everything I’ve ever wanted in life” LIKE ANTONY IS JUST NONEXISTENT????? I get she’s a kid and all and obviously didn’t mean it 100% seriously BUT STILL!!!

AND WHEN HAZEL AND DEV GET INTO THEIR LITTLE FIGHT NEAR THE END OF THE EPISODE, HAZEL SAYS “you’re just like your dad” WHICH IS A BITCH MOVE CONSIDERING SHE LITERALLY SAW WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE STATUE THING AND THAT DEV IS PROBABLY UPSET ABOUT THAT STILL SO ANYTHING REALTING TO HIS DAD WOULD PROBABLY BE A TOUCHY SUBJECT FOR HIM AT THAT MOMENT BUT SHE ALSO JUST DOES NOT LET HIM EXPLAIN HIMSELF, THIS IS A BIT MORE UNDERSTANDABLE BECAUSE SHES MAD BUT AT LEAST GIVE HIM AND SECOND TO EVEN SAY ANYTHING AT LEAST

she also says to him “I thought we were friends” before walking off and so in the next episode when dev thinks that Hazel hates him she goes “just bc we got in a fight doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore” BUT LIKE SHE SAID “I thought we were friends” TO HIM SO SHE KINDA HAS NO RIGHT TO BE SAYING THAT SO WTF?!?!?

In conclusion, I didn’t really like Hazel in lost and founders day

[moniquill]

@frogeyedape these tags have passed peer review:

#i really admire the refusal to bow to the social pressure of cancel culture while also really struggling with it#like there are elements of cancel culture that i am way too deep in the sauce in. like. how i post is often automatically defensive#and i think of my friend who said (years ago) how frustrating it is that people won't give up harry potter for the antisemitism#(not to mention how the antisemitism got completely overshadowed by the transphobia)#and like...in a balance between not being deliberately offensive vs speaking difficult truths about complex subjects...#it's probably healthier to be able to engage with “questionable” content and works by canceled/objectionable creators#(including not just authors but artists and artisans of all sorts)#you know...“offensive” is rather loaded...like...power gets offended by challenges...but it's the same word as for like deliberately rude &#bigoted behavior. who is speaking and who is offended is so important in judging whether offense is like...necessary pushback against#unbalanced power structures vs just being hateful & mean for the sake of it#and my mushy little falls-too-easily-for-black-and-white-thinking brain needs reminders that no actually nothing is that simple#the idea/goal behind cancel culture is...what? a) don't promote bad (bigoted-offensive sexual misconduct etc) actors to “prevent harm” (and#what does that mean?) b) maintain personal purity by refusing to associate with/read/etc any actor/topic/author/etc that has fucked up#sufficiently to be canceled (and like people do get canceled for legitimately bad behavior. but even assuming all canceled people actually#did what they're accused of some % of them can/do/did alter their behavior and yet remain canceled)...#is my disavowal of eg harry potter doing more harm to my nephews who note have a sorting hat e-toy i don't approve of than not boycotting it#would harm my trans & jewish friends? is not-canceling a problematic thing *harmful* in itself?#my nephews don't need a purer-than-though relative judging their playthings (even if silently) and making them feel bad or wrong#ugghh

The thing about 'cancelling' is that it's almost always performative and tied up in purity culture. I do not know what this person's beef with Neil Gaiman is, nor do I care, it's not even a little bit relevant to the thread. His name was mentioned in the context of 'Is an author' and 'started his career by publishing short fiction'. At no point did anyone claim that he is an example of impoverished rags to riches, or defend his character re: allegations. It was pure derail, plucking THE NAME OF A FORBIDDEN ONE, ONE WHO IS TO BE SHUUUUUUUUUUNNNED from an otherwise unrelated conversation and obsessing over it.

Never speaking about Harry Potter again is doing nothing to stop JKR from lending her support to transphobic causes; the important thing is not to give her MONEY and to refute particularly bullshit things she says while largely ignoring her. Meanwhile never speaking about Harry Potter again means missing out on the literary analysis of a fucking cultural juggernaut that dominated the 00's and fundamentally changed the face of YA going forward. It is important to talk about The Problems with those books/movies/the extended universe AND it's not Evilbadsinful to have fond memories of something that deeply impacted your childhood (even if it had Problems! Even if you didn't notice those problems as an actual literal child!)

Fandom did some amazing things and they're worth talking about.

Why would you reblog someone citing Neil Gaiman as an example of traditionally published working class authors? Apart from the rape stuff, Gaiman was born wealthy and powerful and with lots of social resources.

Because:

I'm not the purity police, Neil Gaiman can still be cited as an example of 'author with recognizable name here on Tumblr.com' and the statement 'This very famous author started with short stories' is factually accurate

2. Ætherograph is my actual for-real friend.

Either read more of my blog and learn that I do not subscribe to total blanket cancellation (I'll even talk about the complex cultural ramifications of the Harry Potter series!) or read less of it and go the fuck away.

[genderqueerdykes]

part of me wants to revive my old ace/aro positivity/advice sideblog and part of me still hurts and shies away from it because of the discourse and some of the shit i went through on that blog just for daring to say that aces and aros are queer.

how do you do it? how do you keep a blog like this going when there's just constant nasty bullshit coming in? i miss running it and i miss being the one who got to tell people who weren't sure who they were that they could be whatever they felt and that they were welcomed and loved. but i do not miss regularly getting told to kill myself or that i need therapy.

you know, that's a very good question, i haven't thought about that

it is very hard and i'm sorry people have treated you that way. i don't know why people are so determined to be as rude as possible about aspec people. like folks are just ruthless and it makes no sense because romance and sex are so normalized in our culture that people who step outside of what is considered "normal" for human attraction are very much queer. someone who refuses to partner because it doesn't interest them is very queer. someone who enjoys erotica but not sex is very queer.

it is hard, i will give you that. i do receive a fair amount of nasty messages, but i've noticed they've decreased recently because periodically i go into the terf and rad fem tags to block everyone who is participating in those communities. i'm very proactive with the block feature, i will use it if i feel unsafe, uncomfortable or like that person would be unproductive to interact with. i naturally have a sort of confidence to me that comes with my autism. i know i'm right about what i'm talking about (most of the time). if someone wants to challenge me, that's their business, but i'm generally very sure of myself and what i want to say

i am also heavily medicated, so keep that in mind. i do take several medications for anxiety, bipolar disorder, and so on. so a lot of the time my emotions are kept in check by my meds. i've been in therapy for a very long time and if things arise i can talk to my therapist or friends about it. generally online trolling doesn't bug me because i've spent most of my time online ever since i was a kid. i'm very used to the patterns that manifest when people want to bother someone else. i don't like giving rude people what they want

i remind myself that rude people are entitled. they expect the world to work the way they want it to, but that's just not how life goes. i also have DID, which means i have other people living in my head with me that can take over if i get too frustrated. generally i quickly journal out my feelings, delete the ask, and then move on. the greatest piece of advice i can give you is that you do *not* have to answer every single ask or message. if an ask pisses you off so bad that you can't formulate constructive thoughts on it, just delete it. you don't owe internet strangers anything

generally i'm very socially oriented. i really, really enjoy talking to people. because i've always had very progressive beliefs, i'm very much used to people trying to challenge me on what i know about the world and how things work. i lived with republicans and libertarians early on in my life and saw the fascist patterns in their behavior and wanted nothing more but to discuss how life really can be more gentle, welcoming and opening.

after i started this blog, i realized that there are people who are hellbent on misunderstanding you and that's something you just have to cope with. it's literally impossible to make people all think and feel the same way on a given subject, humanity is too diverse for that. there will always be someone who wants to misunderstand what you're saying in order to suit their own narrative. once i was reminded of the strawman fallacy, i began to realize that so many people literally just make up people to be offended on their behalf. people make up problems where they don't exist. some people literally wake up in the morning to do this and you can't change it- and that's alright. you can always block and ignore them. just because they got under your skin doesnt mean you owe them anything.

honestly, sometimes a person is cut out for it, and sometimes they're not- not saying you're not. it's *very* hard to do this, don't feel like you're a failure or anything. it's very exhausting at times. i take breaks and answer asks when i can for that reason. i don't want a schedule. i don't want to force myself to do this every single day. it's a job, but it's not. i like being an activist. i like helping. and i like changing people's minds. i don't mind having stressful conversations, because they're the ones people avoid the most. i've never been scared of having "tough" conversations. again, my autism helps me out in this regard

i think at the end of the day it's my love for other people that drives me. i've always been selfless and put others before myself. i really care about community and people uniting, it's literally my goal and passion in life. i've always wanted to become some type of figurehead in the community who is here to help. so for me, it's aligned with what i want to do in life. i'm aware that i have to take some blows in order to do it, so i do my best to take em on the chin

i hope that made sense or helped at all. i'm here to try to help spread awareness for folks like you who maybe can't due to mental health reasons. it's absolutely okay to not be able to keep up with it because of the amount of absolutely rude comments. i do what i do for people like you. maybe in time you'll be able to do so again. good luck out there! take care of yourself

[observeowl]

Second Chance | Chapter 21 - Once Again

Series masterlist

You woke up next to Natasha the next day after borrowing some clothes for the night. Perhaps because you felt comfortable with Nat, you slept all the way until 11am, or perhaps it was due to the movie marathon the both of you had the night prior. Either way, you slept soundly and haven’t felt so well rested in a long time. 

You reached for your phone and noted that your friends texted you about the release of the school results. You quickly tapped Natasha to wake her up and told her to check her results too. 

“There’s no need for that, I always get As, darling.” She mumbled as she buried her face in your torso. 

“Good for you.” You mumbled. Natasha whined as you got out of bed to use her laptop to check your results. After logging in, you scrolled through all the other emails and finally got to the one that you were looking for. 

It was quite easy to navigate, you only had one column to look for, which was possibly why it was so easy to see that you didn't get the results you wanted. 

What’s the point in working so hard? Hard work doesn’t translate to good results. Only achieving B+ for 4 out of the 5 modules you take and even getting a C- for the last one. This is the worst result you have gotten in your entire education. 

You let out a sigh but caused Nat to open her eyes and sat up a little. She didn’t know what to say, but she knows for sure that you didn’t get the results you wanted. “Didn’t get what you wanted?” You shook your head as you entered the bed and back in her arms again, this time with a slightly disappointed look in your face. “Doesn’t matter, you know I will earn enough for the both of us anyway.” 

“Yeah… but I just want to get a good result for once. I don’t understand why everyone thinks that I am an A student, when I’m struggling not to get lower than a B. I mean, this is literally my second time taking the exam.” 

“Good things come to those who wait. Who knows, you might be an all A student by the time we graduate.” She holds you tighter as she gives you affirmations. 

“Hope so…” With two more semesters to go, you aren’t sure how much catch up you could make. 

===

Over the remaining holiday, you spent the majority of the time with Natasha. But you didn’t forget to spend time with Diana and Camellia as well. They even urge you to bring Natasha along when everyone hangs out. 

Natasha didn’t mind going anywhere as long as you were going. She even followed you to the hospital when it was time to remove the cast. But even after that, she still made sure you didn’t exert yourself too much. 

It wasn’t long until school started and the time you get to meet Natasha decreased. But nonetheless, it seems like Natasha has gained a tingling sense for you when you’re near. She’ll spot you and leave her friends without a thought just to be able to say hi to you. Knowing that she loves to see your face light up, you gave her a quick kiss before you had to part ways to your classes. 

“We are having dinner tonight?” It has become customary for her to come over to your house to have dinner together and sometimes she will stay over if she feels like it or return to her dorm if she has early class the next day. 

“Always. I’ll be waiting.” You gave her another quick kiss before following your friends to enter the classroom. 

“You guys are really fast balling this.” Camellia commented when she saw the interaction between you two. “From not wanting to be associated with each other to being each other's girlfriends in the span of 3 days. I really applaud you both.” 

“Well… we just really understand each other.” 

Knowing results means a lot to you, she tries to help out on your assignments as much as possible. She may not be learning the same subject, but she is able to provide a new perspective and sometimes all you need is someone with you to brainstorm a little. She’s able to help a lot when it comes to those written essays that have nothing to do with accounting, but more about logical thinking and reasoning. Her way with words is a lot stronger than yours and she’s always happy to proofread your work and amend any grammatical errors or add some flair to earn some marks.

Nat tried to help adjust your study method. Just putting your head down and reading your notes was not going to help you. She offered to be your partner in reciting the key points and making sure it stays in your brain. She even came up with new games to make sure it was fun and interesting. 

In the end the hard work paid off when your results came back finally with one A and the rest B+. You were with Natasha when you checked the results once again and you celebrated the results with her by going out to a nice restaurant. 

“Just dress up nicely. I’ll handle the rest.” She smiled as she dropped you off at your house after having lunch together. “I’ll come pick you up at 4pm.” 

“Alright, can’t wait.” She puffed her cheeks out for another kiss and you huffed before giving her what she wanted. 

“In hurry to go somewhere?” Your mother commented as she heard you moving about quickly. “Yeah, I’m going out with Natasha later to celebrate.” You commented as you hopped into the shower immediately instead of laying in the bed and using your phone. 

“So you’re not coming back for dinner right?” She checked. 

“No dinner!” You shouted through the door to make sure she heard it

You didn’t have to think what you were going to wear. Okay, that’s a lie. You had to think, but not much. You were going to wear the outfit you bought with Natasha the other day when you went shopping. It wasn’t often that you would choose to wear a dress. But you found something that you were confident in. It was just the right length for you. Not too short that you have to worry about your actions and not too long that it’s difficult to walk. 

“Mum, can you help me take a picture?” You gave your phone to your mum and stood somewhere with good lighting. Previously, it’s not often that you took photos of your own, even less of others. You didn’t have good photography skills and it’s not something that bothered you. But, it didn’t give you the opportunity of looking back for memories. “Make sure you take it properly.” You ordered. 

“Yes yes, I wouldn’t dare take a bad picture of you.” She snapped a few shots before giving you the phone to vet the pictures. Once you deemed it acceptable. You sat on the couch waiting for Natasha. 

Knowing what she’s like, she arrived earlier than 4pm and even brought you a bouquet of flowers that you placed in a vase. While filling the vase with water, you were reminded how you had to get one ever since Nat started giving you flowers each time she visits your house. You told her you didn’t have any place to put the flowers and it would be such a waste for them to wilt and she immediately went to get you one. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” You said to break the flow of conversation that Nat had with your mum. 

“You look absolutely lovely, Y/N.” Nat complimented. 

“Thank you, Nat. You look gorgeous as well..” She was also wearing the clothes that she picked. 

“Since we are little early. Do you want to walk around a little or head straight there?” She asked as she brought you to her car which she borrowed from her mother. You thought about it for briefly before deciding to leave the walking for after dinner when it’s much cooler. 

The drive there was relaxing, blasting pop music, excited for the night to come. “We’re here.” She said and rushed to open your doors. 

“Nat, I know you want to open my doors. You don’t have to rush. I told you, I will wait for you.” 

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting.” Natasha said as you linked arms together.

As you approved the door of the restaurant, you noted there was something different. “Are you sure this is the right place? It doesn’t seem open.” You looked at Nat and asked.

She only gave you a cheeky smile and nodded before pushing the door open. True to your observation, the lights were off and Natasha had to find the light switch to turn on the lights. “I pulled a favour to get the place for the night.” She said as she flicked the light switch. 

There were pictures hanging from several lines and some that you don’t even recognise. “What’s all this?” You asked. 

“Just take a look.” Nat led you through the lines of pictures and you realised you were in every single one of them. “I had to ask your friends for some of the pictures.” 

“But how? You only know Camellia and Diana. And they aren’t there for the archery events.” You commented as you noted some of the pictures were during the events that your club held. 

“I asked Clint to give me their numbers. Easy job.” She shrugged her shoulders like it was nothing. “Now you get to have something to reminisce about. I’m sure our kids would love to see how cool their mother was shooting arrows.”

“I think this is my favourite.” Nat said as she took one out from the pegs. It is a picture of you being surrounded by your friends with a medal around your neck after having won the team event. “Your smile looks really great here. One of elation and relief.”

“Yeah. That’s definitely what I was feeling.” You smiled remembering all the hard work you had to put in to achieve that result. Moving forward, some of the pictures were in school and you couldn’t think of anyone who would take those pictures especially when it looked like the picture was taken quite a distance away. 

“This… who did you get this from?” 

“Myself. I also love the way you’re focused in class or trying to solve a problem. Makes you look very sexy.” She whispered next to your ears. 

“That’s kinda stalkerish.” 

“You can’t blame me, babe. I look for you each time in school.” 

“What about this? Why is this empty?” You pointed at a blank piece of paper that was hanging with the rest. 

“This? I am hoping to add the picture of our engagement.” She continued forward until she was at the end and turned to face you. 

“Y/N, consider this the renewal of our vows. I made the mistake of pushing you away causing us to drift apart. Fate gave us another chance but I refuse to correct myself when the best thing has been in front of me all along. Finally thanks to more pushing and guidance, I was brought back to you once again. Something which I would never take for granted or let go ever again. This time, I promise to take better care of you, protect you and fight for you. So, will you marry me again?” She knelt down and presented you with the beautiful engagement ring. 

“Yes. Yeah I will marry you again.” You nodded your head, trying to hold back your tears.

“Really? Yes! Yes!” She jumped up and hugged you and gave you kisses all over your face before slipping the ring on your finger. “My fiance. Not for long though. I can’t wait to actually call you my wife again.” 

“Soon enough darling.” 

“Give me a moment.” She held up a finger before running to the front door and shouting. “She said yes!!” 

A parade of cheer sounded and so many people started streaming in. Your friend, parents, Melina, Alexis, Yelena. She had invited everyone prior to this knowing you would want to share this time with your family and friends but at the same time leave the intimate moment to the both of you. 

“So, did I earn 10 out of 10?” She asked as she came back to your side and held your waist, wanting to hear your praise. 

“9.5 out of 10.” The pout of her face was immediate. “I thought you would bring the marriage certificate as well.”

“I may have some connection. But not that much! I can’t bring the solemniser here.” She defended.

“I know I know. You have done very well, darling. Here’s to the rest of our life.” You took a glass from the table and raised it for a cheer and Natasha did the same. 

“You’re going to get showered in love for the rest of your life, babe. Better be prepared.”  

Series masterlist

@queen-of-chaotic-surprises @esposadejoyhuerta @gemz5 @natsxwife @dyslexic-dreamer @unexpected-character @eternalnight410 @leenasayeed @oh-thats-sad @skz-xii @gay-frogs-dancing-around @justspance

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[fraternum-momentum]

the internet was cut off and i ran out of data so i asked my brother if i can connect to his hotspot and downloaded dol on my phone,,,,,,,,,

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

you know if we do accept the last epilogue-esque sequence as a sort of dream/wish of ted's and therefore not necessarily canon, very funny if we then simply go "yeah, trent's book is called 'the lasso way' actually. he didn't change that. nope."

[fantomette22]

Also kind of funny how people say i’m quite discreet and don’t talk a lot when i’m afraid i talk too much (maybe too loud or too fast) and afraid i ended up annoyed them. (Can smn explain pls xD)

anyway it’s late i apologize if it doesn’t make so much sense it is late)

[violentlydefending]

genuinely always so shocked to see mirei hate. like literally god forbid women do anything.

[androidboy]

after callin me a guy who’s “very easy on the eyes” my coworker was like “hm. it’s cold out. i’m driving you home” and then facetimed his cute wife and cute baby to tell her he’s driving me. they both tried to get the baby to say my name (semi success) and to say bye to me (success) then he turned on led zeppelin and gave me music fun facts all the way home. like can i please be your third. isn’t there a little wiggle room for one extra person to watch the baby and kiss. dream relationship

[p2iimon]

drawing more furry fnaf art. yknow just to keep you posted. i love posting in the tags sorry these ones got away from me

[imperiuswrecked]

I've only ever asked 2 former online friends to not contact me after I wanted to go our separate ways due to irreconcilable differences and the first one circumvented my blocks at least 3 or 4 times to talk to me including sending me emails from 2 different email addresses after I refused to speak with them on tumblr/twitter/discord and each time I told them to leave me alone, that took place over a period of weeks.

The second one made a burner account to talk to me after I publicly asked them not to. I'm done talking. I'm done listening. I am allowed to restrict access to my person, my time, my emotions, my own mental health.

People need to respect boundaries others set down.

[astro-inthestars]

Hi guess who feels like he just experienced 8 consecutive days in a matter of 2?

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"