#look i love them

[regainingparadise]

Relistening to TMA Season 5, I am again struck by how goddam badly Martin and Jon need couples counseling.

I love them both. I ship them very much. But oh lord they have issues

Like, these are two individuals who, under the very best of circumstances, would really need therapy both individually and together. They are both people with plentiful quantities of relational trauma from childhood that neither of them have worked through even the slightest bit.

And then you throw them into the apocalypse. And you add a metric fuck ton of guilt, helplessness, and the dynamics of being "The Antichrist and +1"?

On a surface level--Jon is in a perpetual state of information overload. Martin is in a perpetual state of "can you please just explain the basics of what's' going on in a given situation and not just say "it's complicated" or launch into a gruesome monologue"

But on a deeper level, their childhood relational traumas have left them each with opposing avoidant tendencies: Jon is unwilling to broach a difficult conversation, which leads him to hide information until he's confronted. Martin, on the other hand, has a finely honed ability to ignore information that he doesn't like until he no longer can hide from it.

Biggest example of their avoidance tendencies: Martin's Domain

Way early on, when we barely understand any of how the hellscape works, Jon mentions it, Martin shuts it down hard and deflects quickly with a bid for affection from Jon

Martin is in deliberate denial, but Jon admittedly wasn't particularly clear to start with.

"We all have a domain."

Jon means it, presumably, as "Me, You, and other 'Avatars.'" Jon is used to being grouped with those empowered by the Entities. Martin isn't. (see also: MAG185: Martin" Is that how these creatures see us now? As one of them?") But that's not what Jon says. And this is MAG167--they've only been through four domains, at least that we've seen. Jon is speaking from a place of knowledge, and assuming his listener has that same knowledge.

And when this issue comes up much later in MAG183, Martin has spent 17 episodes ignoring or forgetting that he has a domain, not letting that information in so that he has never processed it. (See also: Mag170: "Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them… slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them.").

Martin confronts Jon on his avoidance (because while Martin may be good at ignoring things he doesn't like, he's far better at bringing up challenging topics), Jon is able to manage some A+ communication on his feelings and the genuine challenging of figuring out how to share upsetting information when he has All The Information, Martin accepts that. I just desperately want a therapist to be there and make them continue this conversation and practice ongoing good communication skills!

Though they resolve this, even though Jon has an explanation that makes sense...he was really leaving this conversation to the last minute. Would he have "[brought] it up at the crossroads" as he claims to Helen? Or would he have avoided it entirely, as she accuses, or waited till they were at the threshold, as he does with The Desolation and the Hunt, leaving Martin to confront terrifying situations without forewarning or planning or explanation.

Again, Jon kind of tried to bring up some of the potential issues with Basira and Daisy before entering the Hunt domain, but kept it Vague and Ominous ("Things aren't...good"). Martin took that vagueness as an opening to avoid engaging with potential bad news. The teensiest bit of therapy for either of them about their communication issues could have let Jon add "I know you're exited but FYI here are some specifics that you should know" and/or Martin go "I'm excited to see them but given that nothing is good right now, can you be more specific?"

Instead, Jon approaches difficult conversations by being Vague and Ominous, Martin gets snarky or passive-aggressive at the vagueness, upset or aggressively avoidant at the Ominousness, Jon closes back up like a turtle into his shell, and the conversation only comes back up when the situation has drastically escalated, leaving them both more upset.

Jon wants Martin to trust him, because explaining what he knows implicitly is an ordeal for him, and because his upbringing by his grandmother has suggested that communicating is generally unwanted and burdensome (See: MAG081 A Guest for Mr. Spider).

Martin wants to know what is going on, because he's in an awful hellscape of shifting rules about what can and cannot hurt them, completely dependent on a brand-new romantic partner for his survival and purpose, and also because his upbringing and coping mechanisms as a caretaker rely on him knowing enough to help, and his time as an archival assistant has given him some not-inconsiderable trauma about being left in the dark (See: MAG118 The Masquerade) (There's also another post in my head about how MAG118 primed Martin for both the Lonely and his development as a more confrontational character in S5)

All that to say.

Martin needs therapy to deal with the way he chooses not to absorb information he doesn't like. Jon needs therapy to understand that sometimes it's ok to bring up important topics even if the other person will be upset. They both need therapy to cope with all the guilt and helplessness around the apocalypse so they stop taking it out on each other. They need therapy together to learn how to work through their conflicting coping mechanisms.

[wigglesdtuff]

L8r Sk8r!

[thenightwolf51]

I noticed something because of this gif

Clampers and Branch have a very similar if not the same skin color.

You know who else has similar skin as Branch

His brothers. But im specifically looking at John Dory right now

So therefore, Clampers has the same skin color as John Dory.

Now hear me out.

I love the headcanon about JD and Delta Dawn being exes or close to that. Absolutely adore the thought of them being young and in love.

I personally like to headcanon that JD passed through Lonesome Flats a year or two after leaving his brothers, and that something led to him staying a while. Maybe he accidentally broke some fences or other property and was forced by the then sheriff to fix them. Or maybe he got heat stroke or was injured out in the deserts and they allowed him to stay until he healed. Either way he ends up spending a bit of time with Delta Dawn, if she's already training to be next sheriff then it makes sence for her to keep an eye on the pop outsider. Over time JD starts to grow on the country trolls, they start to welcome him, and him and Delta start to fall for eachother. But then JD realizes just how deeply in love he is and it makes him panic. Maybe he gets it in his head that if he couldn't even be a good brother then he definitely cant be a good partner, and with his injuries healed/work finished he ends up leaving.

Honestly i love the possibilities for their ship. It can almost have a sorta Hallmark movie vibe and the potential angst that can come from JD still being hopelessly in love with Delta and her being bitterly still in love with him years later is perfect.

But

As much as i love Delta Dory

What if...

We had all that but instead, it was between JD and Delta's sibling.

What if when JD left, he unknowingly left Delta's sibling with an egg. An egg that hatched into Delta's little niece, Clampers.

Given Clampers' age, which i assume is at least 5, that would put the romance as being more recent. JD would have Rhonda and it makes sense if she accidentally caused the damage he has to fix.

But then the angst.

The fact that Delta seems to be Clampers' main caretaker suggests that ther sibling has passed away, thats one arrow through the heart.

Clampers being JD's daughter and he didn't even know. He missed her hatching, her first steps, her fist words, doesn't even know what color or patterns her egg was. Is he even capable of beimg a good dad? That's a few more arrows.

And Delta? She's gonna be real protective. This is her little niece, JD left her sibling heartbroken and she won't let him do the same to Clampers. If he could walk away once, he could do it again. Delta doesn't really want him to have a part in Clampers' life.

Oh or!

What if we kept everything and just changed Clampers to being Delta's Daughter rather than niece?

(Anyway thats it! That gif just had me thinking, especially when i noticed the matching skin.

And i admit to wanting to gush a little about Delta Dory, ive falling into another Trolls fixation era and a few fics have got me focusing on John Dory. Maybe I'll link a few in another post

Feel free to write or use any of the ideas, just tag me so i can read them.)

[theflann]

Mikey regrets his decisions.. BEHOLD my splinter design! he is tired and loves his kids but goddamn they test him. love them

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sorry about how long this took, i was sick for a week and struggling to breath, so i was too sick to properly take care of my body and some chronic issues flared up. But now i’m all better!

Expect more soon! i think!

[tech-obssessed-shark]

Enemies to Lovers speedrun

look zeb made a cameo in mando and its the perfect excuse to talk about them

[ejunkiet]

you’ve got red on you

prompt fill for the wonderful @pinksparkl about Milo’s reaction to Sweetheart having a panic attack in front of him for the first time.

(special bonus points to anyone who recognises the title >:3)

redacted audio: milo/sweetheart, rated teen. cw: panic attacks

Milo comforts his mate after a panic attack. - “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay. Just- breathe.”

READ ON AO3

--

you’ve got red on you

All it takes is a moment of distraction while he’s prepping dinner for his grip on the kitchen knife to slip, the sharp edge slicing across his palm and sending the half-chopped vegetables scattering. “Shit!”

“Milo?”

“S’all good, sweetheart. Just, fucked up with the knife.” It’s an understatement, considering the state of the counters, the blood welling from the cut in his palm spilling over onto the hardwood. Goddamnit. He knew better than to get distracted while using the good knife. Christ, the shit his mother would give him over this-

He wraps his hand in a dishcloth before he stumbles over to the sink, a litany of curses falling from his tongue as he fumbles the taps to turn on the water.

He glances up to find the shape of his mate in the doorway, their features shadowed by the busted light in the hall he’d been meaning to fix before they came over. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just me being a fuckin’ idiot.”

They take a step further into the room, their eyes focused on the bloody dishcloth, and they’re not saying anything, although they look - strange. Off. As if they’re feeling sick.

He sees it when their hands start to shake, their breaths coming fast and shallow, as if they can’t get enough air. The way their eyes lose focus, pupils dilating, even as their aura flickers, their silhouette going hazy around the edges.

“Sweetheart?” They’re still not saying anything, and unease stirs in his gut, prickling at his skin. It’s not like them to lose their words like that - they always had plenty to say. “Hey, you okay?”

“I-” And just like that they vanish, flickering out of existence as if they had never been there in the first place.

Fuck.

He can’t see them. Can’t feel them, the warmth of their presence, their scent. But he can still sense them in the room with him - feel the quiet flicker of their aura, subtle in the air but distinctive, if you know what you’re looking for.

And he’s familiar with that aura now, familiar with finding it in a way that’s becoming second nature to him, and he steps away from the sink, crossing over to where they had been standing, where he thinks he can feel them now.

If he concentrates hard enough, he can see the faint shimmer of their magic vibrating in the air, like heat from sun-baked tarmac. He pauses, squinting. “Sweetheart?”

Every instinct in him is screaming at him to do something, to fix this. But he’s not even sure what this is. He’s got an idea - his pop used to get like this after a bad night, frantic and non-verbal, disappearing into his office for hours until his ma could finally coax him out.

She was good at stuff like that. He - he wasn’t. He didn’t have her soft touch, her endless patience. Shit, he’d probably make things worse if he tried.

Panic squeezes at his throat like a vice, even as he tries to swallow it down. “Sweetheart, can ya - can ya talk to me?”

A flash, and their hand appears, reaching out to grasp his wrist, gripping tight. A rush of heat floods his hand, followed by a sharp pinch that makes him curse, before the ache in his palm recedes, the wound closing.

He flexes his fingers as they flicker back into view, their mouth pinched into a tight line, eyes still too big but focused as they stare down at his hand.

It’s still bloody, the skin of his palm freshly pink, but he can feel the way their fingers tremble around his wrist, and fuck, it must be the blood. Christ, Milo. You’re a fucking idiot.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he focuses on his core, weaving the pattern of a simple cleaning spell, his breath leaving him as the magic runs through his system. He flexes his fingers once it’s done, checking over the clean skin. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

They still won’t speak, won’t look at him. Their hold on him is tight enough that he can feel their pulse through their fingertips, still too fast, and carefully, telegraphing his movements, he reaches out, guiding their face up to meet his. “Hey. You still with me?”

They take a breath, deep and gasping. “I-I’m sorry.”

“None of that. You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

They finally look at him, their bright eyes wide, slightly dazed but calmer now, a little more like themself. It settles something in him, although it's not enough - he needs more, needs to know that they’re okay, feel them against him.

“Can I hold you?”

They melt into his arms, soft and warm and perfect, like they were made to fit against him like this, and fuck. He runs his fingers through their hair, pressing his face against their throat until he can breathe them in, deep.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay. Just- breathe.”

–

“So, it’s the blood?”

They release a low hum, sinking further into him where they’ve settled on the couch, his arms around them, their legs across his lap and their body tucked against his chest.

“Yeah. I saw you standing there, and I couldn’t-” Their voice cuts out as they swallow, taking a moment to catch their breath. He holds them through it. “It just hit me, all at once.”

This was new, then. They hadn’t reacted like this to the shade - or at least, he hadn’t seen it at the time. There was that period after the fight, when they’d met with the department, but considering they were at his place immediately after that, he didn’t think it did.

And they’d been working, then. If he can remember well enough the stuff that had happened with his pop, then things like this tended to happen in the aftermath of an event - hours, maybe even days, later.

The fucking department. His grip around them tightens as he grits his teeth, tamping down on the urge to growl. “You’ll tell me, if this happens again? If there’s anything I can do-”

“There isn’t.” They wince, as if their words came out sharper than they intended, and they shift in his arms to look up at him. “But I’ll tell you, if it happens again.”

They lay their head back down against his chest, right over his heart, their fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. He can feel the rhythm of their breath match up to his, easy and quiet, and he loves them. He loves them so fucking much in this moment, it makes his heart ache.

He’ll ask his ma about this, and maybe… maybe get in contact with his pop. They’re long overdue for a conversation, anyway.

[alienfae]

You honor they are in love

[mando-din-lorian]

DINCOBB HOURS

[radioactive-cloud]

if they wear their stožice outfits again tomorrow i swear to god

[jitters-box]

more dreamtale neutral anyone (featuring one of my favorite audios)

[raventrigonsdaughter]

I better not be seeing Rebels fans going on rage rants when Ahsoka's show ends up SURPRISE SURPRISE being mainly about ahsoka and not about the ghost crew

Her show may be a direct continuation to it but it def wont focus on them, it will probably be what bad batch is to the clone wars tbh, with a little more conections... it also aparently seems like there will be more than one season so don't go crying when season one's 6 episodes arent about showing Ezra and Thrawn and Sabine as much as it will be showing the titular character dealing with problems

This is not me hating on anyone in particular cause i saw this complain more than once between the rebels fandom and i understand, but keep your expectations realistic about that guys...

[transcriptasareversa]

Is them, is my bois.

[apollos-boyfriend]

i’m gonna cry it’s raining right now and i just passed by a family where both parents were without an umbrella but their kid who couldn’t have been older than like 3-4 was proudly holding this GIANT umbrella whose diameter was as tall (if not taller) as the kid. both the parents were getting absolutely drenched but u could tell the kid was just so happy to have an “adult” task and carry the umbrella themselves and i think that sacrifice is what love is all about

[almondpiglet]

ppl were drawing mikus from all over so heres habesha miku and her lil twin sibs rin and len!!

[ejunkiet]

how to pamper your werewolf

>:3 this is a fave project of mine, ngl. part one of two. <3

redacted audio: davey/angel. rated teen, but will go up. mentions latest audios.

READ ON AO3

--

Angel plans a day of rest and relaxation for Davey.

-

“Tell me what you want.”

“You.” It’s the best he can manage. He feels - almost overwhelmed. Their hands on him, slow touches, their mouth against his. He wants them. All of them, always.

“I’m yours.” Their eyes are soft as they lean in again, pressing a slow kiss against his skin, the gentle brush of their breath sending shivers through him.

--

how to pamper your werewolf.

It starts with a simple request from his mate.

Let me take care of you. Their expression had been open, honest. Please. You’ve earned it.

It’s been a long few months. A long year. There’s still work to be done, paperwork for the company, and details for their latest job, supporting the Solaire clan’s preparations for their monarchal summit, the ever looming threat of Quinn complicating matters further.

But tonight, there’s just him and his mate. And they’d asked, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for them when they asked him like that. He’s never been able to say no to them.

And that’s exactly how he finds himself here. Stripped down to his skin, standing in front of their ceramic tub, deep-seated and filled to the brim with the steaming water and the bath salt mixture they prefer.

He appreciates the gesture, he does. It’s been a year since the last time they’ve done something like this, and the memory is still sweet, even in light of everything that came after.

But still, the bath is excessive. “There are too many bubbles in this.”

They laugh as they shake their head, seafoam green eyes bright. “No such thing.”

Running their hands through the sudsy mess, they hum in satisfaction at the temperature before turning off the water and straightening fully.

“It’s all ready for you, big guy.”

He snorts, raising a brow. “You’re not gonna join me? There’s room enough for two.”

“This is meant to be about you, remember?”

“I want you with me.” His voice has softened, but he doesn’t mind it. He lets his thumbs play with the edge of the towel, already hanging low enough around his hips that he’d be self-conscious if it was anyone else. If he didn’t know the effect it had on them.

They’re biting their lip as they follow the movement, a flush rising high on their cheeks and he grins. Turning away from them, he steps into the water, letting the towel slip down his hips and onto the floor.

He doesn’t miss the way their breath catches, that little skip of their heartbeat. The way the heat in the room rises. He can picture the way the flush on their cheeks spills down their throat, all the way to their collar bone.

“Fine. You win.”

He can hear the soft rustle of fabric against skin as they lose their clothes, before they follow him into the water. The tub is deep, painted ceramic with iron feet that had felt ridiculous when he bought it, but fits into the design of the room. Classic, but not too overstated.

More importantly, they both fit.

There’s a smile playing on their own lips as they settle in across from him, sliding forward until they’re seated between his folded legs. Their eyes are dark as they glance him over: the bare expanse of his chest, his shoulders, his arms.

He stretches out, the bold lines of his tattoo sleeve stark against the white foam. The bubbles catch on the hair scattered across his chest, and he'd feel ridiculous if it wasn't for the way their hands move on him, sliding along his skin, nails trailing through the mess.

“Like what you see?”

They hum, biting their lip as they look up at him from under their lashes. There’s a heat there that he recognises, a similar tension simmering in his veins. “You know it.”

They don’t act on it though. Their eyes flicker across his features, softer than they have any right to be, before catching his gaze once more. Their fingers tap against his shoulders, the delicate silver on their ring finger glimmering in the light. “Turn around for me?”

It’s a tight fit, but they manage it. It’s worth it when their hands run along the planes of his back, teasing out the tightness. His eyes slip shut, as they let out a soft hum, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the damp skin of his shoulder.

“It’s been too long since we’ve done this.” Their words are pressed into his throat, their lips soft against warm skin. The softness of them combined with the heat is enough to loosen some of the tightness in his muscles, the tension he’s been carrying.

They’re right. It has been too long since they’ve taken the time to relax together like this, just the two of them. From now on, he’ll make sure they find the time.

Their lips trail across his throat, their fingers mapping a path along the slope of his shoulders, before they murmur into his ear. “Tilt your head back. I want to wash your hair.”

He releases a shuddering breath. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” He can feel the shape of their smile against his skin. “I want to.”

It’s an awkward shuffle, but they move together until he’s deeper in the water, leaning back against them. Moving quickly, they work his hair into a lather with the shampoo, fingers firm against his scalp, teasing out the tension.

The intimacy of it makes him shiver. He lets out a groan and they laugh, their eyes soft as they look down at him, lips curled into a fond smile. “Feels good?”

He huffs under their stare, ignoring the heat rising on his cheeks. “What do you think?”

Their smile grows. “I’m glad.” Readjusting their weight, they lean down, the longer strands of hair that have escaped their braid tumbling into the water as they press their lips against his forehead in a lingering kiss. “I love you.”

His breath catches as they draw back, their eyes soft as they trace over his features, as if memorising them. There’s an ache in his chest, soft and sweet, and he wants to kiss them, to feel the shape of their mouth against his, and memorise them in turn. His mate.

But before he can, they pull back completely, their hands retreating down to his shoulders.

“Sit up for me?”

The move is easier this time, as they press him gently upright, their hands slipping down until their fingers can dig into his shoulders, working at the knots in the muscle there. “You’re always so… tight.”

Their grip is strong, their fingers deft, and fuck, their hands feel like heaven.

“You take responsibility for everyone. I get that it’s your job, but… we worry about you too.”

The water splashes as they lean forward, and he feels the gentle heat of them against his lower back, the brush of their hair against his cheek, before they press another kiss against the base of his throat, soft and warm.

“I worry about you.”

Their hands slip down his sides, warm and encompassing, their scent around him, and they’re all he can think about, and he can’t wait anymore. He needs them, like he needs air to breathe.

“Angel.” His voice is strained, breathless, and they draw back, a questioning light in their eyes as he catches their gaze. “Kiss me. Please.”

A smile curling up their lips, they do.

All he knows is the warm press of their mouth as they kiss him, claiming his mouth as their hands roam the planes of his body, soft and damp against him.

They break away from the kiss too soon, their eyes soft as their fingers trace across his features, their palm warm, curling against his cheek.

“Let me finish up here, okay?”

They stay like this for a while, their hands teasing along the planes of his body. They use shea butter, working it into his skin with strong fingers, until he’s warm and loose, melting into the water and the gentle care of their touch.

He’s barely awake when they draw closer, leaning down over him until they can catch his eye, that familiar smile playing at the corners of their lips.

“Still with me?” Their eyes gleam as they hold his gaze, smugly pleased, and they’re going to be insufferable after this, but fuck, he loves them. He loves them so fucking much. “Come on. Bedroom.”

[crabussy]

challenged myself to make simpler redesigns that match the show constraints because I often create very complex designs and I wanted to see if I could make something I liked without going too over the top!! pretty happy with these [:

if you have any questions about my design choices ask away!!

part 2 with ten gazillion background characters including sunburst, luna, and twilight's canterlot friends!