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#we ball but at what cost
uselessimpulses · 6 months
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this dog does in fact bite ((cropped the full sketch page bc i didnt like the other pieces on it oops))
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muffinlance · 10 months
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Interest Check: Isopuppy Plushies
Anyone interested in buying isopuppy plushies?
Either as a pattern or actual sewn-by-me toys. Because I have crocheted So Many Toys over my children, and I am thinking it's time to go back to sewing for awhile, but I should also stop rampantly making toys without homes to send them to. So. Casual interest check. I am absolutely making one for myself; this just determines if I should go through the effort of making an actual pattern so I can replicate the process.
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uncanny-tranny · 7 months
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Honestly, I do think it's kind of funny when cis people talk about how Big Trans is forcing them to date, bed, or be friends with trans people because, truly, most of us wouldn't have wanted to be around them, anyway.
If you don't want to be seen as transphobic, there are ways to state your desires without being seen as transphobic. However, you can't have it both ways: treating trans people as second-class people while also not being seen as a bigot while doing so. You need to make your peace with that if you are going to go about this in a transphobic way.
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scraemoo · 6 months
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I cannot stand the thought of a team dying I can't I can't I can't I
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dark-elf-writes · 3 months
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Being constantly tired and having insomnia is a special sort of hell that words cannot describe
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deathtodickens · 11 months
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I fell behind on posting Ages Chapter 33 and ended up rewriting the whole thing. The universe used my overfloweth cup of stress to say, “Nah, that ain’t it.” And you know what? The universe was right. Because it’s better now.
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pipkrakes · 1 year
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girl what in the banned from broadcast ????
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tomatoswup · 1 year
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i haVE A ONESHOT IDEA READY TO WRITE BUT I LEGIT AM GONNA BE HITTING YALL BACK TO BACK WITH ANGST I WILL REDEEM MYSELF AFTER I SWEARRR I SWEARRR GNEKWKDJFJE
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czernysglittersoup · 1 year
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the ronan lynch-ification of conner kent
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ploffskinpluffskin · 1 year
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i’m taking my mom on a small trip to ireland
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onyxclub5 · 3 months
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entry #22
LMFAOOOOO AFTER HOW LONG******
first of all, i completely forgot about this blog-thing lmao
second of all, i have prom in like two days and i am so. fucking. excited.
90% of my class are pure assholes, but i literally don't give a shit, i have the prettiest dress in the world and i'm going to look so good and have so much fun and i'm filming a vlog-thing to edit and send to my friends where i get ready for prom.
being creative is so so so so fun. being braindead kind of makes you forget about that kind of stuff whoops.
these last few months have been ass but i kind of fixed my sleep schedule lately so i'm on a roll with my high.
ANYWAYS:
tomorrow i'm going to pick up my dress (my baby) and not. fold when we have backbreaking cardio at dance.
ciao.
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cinnabeat · 3 months
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oh my god so the faculty in my uni are going on strike (good for them) and my professors have been emailing us like yeah theres a strike we're participating theres no class next week etc etc and then start explaining why and deadass its disgusting what the administration is trying to do
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inkskinned · 30 days
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you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.
bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.
this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?
so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."
you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.
you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.
but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.
quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.
you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.
you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?
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gogobootz1 · 5 months
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The Mentor
Finnick Odair x Reader
Summary: As a mentor, you do your best to help your tributes. When one of them turns into a victor, she knows just how to embarrass you in front of people you’d like to impress.
part two | part three
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You whisk through the backstage hallways of the filming center, wet hair whipping as you turn corners. You’re on a mission. Apparently your tribute, now victor, is having a total breakdown.
Your fellow mentor told you he could absolutely handle her post-games interview. Clearly not, though, since your phone wouldn’t stop ringing while you sat at the bottom of your shower. When you finally pulled yourself out of your stupor to answer it, the district ten escort was on the phone begging you to get down here and fix her. You thought she was exaggerating until your stylist came on and told you it was bad. At that point, you threw on the closest clothes you could find and flew out of the apartment.
Darla is a sweet girl, and you’ve grown quite fond of her. You busted your ass getting her sponsors. Every year you try your best, but you thought she had a good chance and she proved you right. Seeing her in the hospital bed, though, you knew she was different. You thought something like this might happen, but you didn’t think it would happen during your shower.
Rushing around another corner, you crash right into another body.
“Sorry!” You try to quickly remove your hands from where you’d steadied yourself, and sidestep this new obstacle.
“What’s the rush?” The obstacle won’t quite let go of you, though. Now interrupted from your task, you look up to recognize the person in your way. Finnick Odair. It couldn’t have been anyone else?
“Emergency,” you quickly dismiss, trying to get by him again. If you look into his eyes you will be thoroughly distracted. You generally try to avoid Finnick at all costs. His intense stare makes you rather nervous.
“Everything ok?” He raises a brow.
“It will be when I get through here,” you start to get antsy. You tend to accidentally default to short and rude with him.
He lets out a scoff of a chuckle, “you’re a tough egg to crack, you know that?”
You’re really not. The Capitol knows you as the gentle victor, who often visits classrooms and reads to children. You guest star on daytime Capitol tv, making some of your favorite recipes in your houses’s enormous kitchen. You’ve designed gardens and parks and are generally well liked here for your friendliness.
“Look,” you huff, “Darla’s in trouble.” This, at least, you know he’ll understand. “Let me through so I can help her.”
“That’s why everything’s been delayed?” He asks. He’s right, too. The time it’s taken you to get dressed, get a car, and get here is all time that Darla should’ve been on air.
“Finnick,” you snap.
He steps aside in an instant, “good luck.”
You breeze past him.
“Mother hen is a good look on you,” you hear from behind you.
“Shut up,” you bark over your shoulder.
Back on track, you quickly find the right door. Whipping it open and rushing in, the entire district ten beauty team turns to look at you. Their eyes are wide and they look quite upset.
“She’s been staring at the wall since before we called you,” the hairstylist whispers, quickly rushing up to you and taking your hand. You instantly tug it away, they are not your priority.
You breeze past them and slowly approach where Darla is sat. She faces away from you, and is curled up in a ball staring at the wall. Quietly, you sit parallel to her and enjoy a similar view of the wall.
“Hey, D,” you say quietly. Taking a slow approach will probably be more effective than trying to force her up. You’re certain the beauty team tried that approach, but quickly got scared.
She’s silent for a bit, “I can’t do this.” Her voice comes as a relief to you.
You hate what you’re about to tell her. You’d really rather whisk her away back to the apartments, but there’s not exactly another option here. “Look at me, honey, yes you can.”
“No, I-“
“Darla, you can.” You try to be firm, but it falls short.
“You don’t under-“
“Now I know you weren’t gonna say I don’t understand. Baby, I might just be the only one who does.”
Darla starts to cry, and suddenly she looks her age. In this moment she’s not a victor. She’s just a sixteen year old who’s been through far more than she should. You move from your spot to embrace her.
“I know, honey. I’ve been here. Sometimes I’m still here. I know. But they don’t- and they can’t.” You say as you hold her close to your heart.
“So what do I do?” You pull away to see her teary face. You rise to your feet and slowly pull her with you.
“We’re gonna clean you up, and send you out there good as new,” you say, trying to imbue some confidence in her.
Darla’s eyes widen in fear.
“Relax, honey, we’ve got time,” you wipe her teary cheeks. You wave the makeup artist over, as you sit Darla in a chair. “Now in the meantime,” you start, pouring a glass of water and forcing it into Darla’s hand, “I’m gonna tell you a story. How’s that sound?”
Darla nods reluctantly, taking in ice water through the straw. You sit on the glass coffee table in front of the girl as the makeup artist gets to work.
“Now this happened a looooong time ago- back when I was ten. It was a bright summer’s day on the ranch, and I was up nice and early when my Paw came up and told me he’d lost his wedding ring. Now, my Nana was an insightful gal- if she had noticed (and believe me she would’ve) she’d have pitched a fit.
So I was enlisted to help him find it. Well, we searched everywhere. All around the house, the garage- no luck. Finally, we headed out to the pasture. We were digging through manure, when suddenly my foot sank into a pothole and I went flying toward the ground. I landed face first in an enormous pile of shit. But that’s not the worst of it- ohhh no.
When I pushed myself off the ground, I saw my nana had come home. She’d brought four of her friends and all of their grandkids. That included little Jimmy Price, who I happened to be enamored with. (Not that I ever spoke to him since I was so shy.) And in that moment, my Paw, back turned to the whole thing, held up his ring and shouted ‘found it!’ Only to turn and find me covered in cow poop and his wife watching with all her friends.”
Darla smiles a bit at your misfortune, “so he found the ring in the poop?”
“Oh no,” you shake your head, “it was in his pocket all along.” Darla cackles this, nearly messing up the eyeliner her makeup artist tries to fix from her earlier tears.
“So what was the lesson in this fable?” Darla asks teasingly.
“Oh none,” you reply innocently, but a smirk grows on your face, “but at least you’re not heading out there covered in cow shit.” Darla grins and shakes her head, feeling up to the task now. The makeup artist nods at you and dashes from the room.
“Now honey,” you start, pulling Darla up from her chair, “you just blame your tardiness on me. Tell Caesar I was fawning all over you like a mother hen.” At least something useful came out of your run in with the Capitol’s darling.
Darla smiles a little, nodding. “And remember, just be your charming self- everyone here adores you,” you remind her. She seems a lot better now.
“Oh hey, where were you earlier?” Darla asks, about to head out the door.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” You tell her, smile dimming.
“Now you really sound like my mother,” Darla quips back, and you grin again.
With that, a stagehand pulls Darla away to where Caesar’s been waiting. There’s not much else you can do for the girl now. Out of your hands and into the Capitol’s. You can only hope Darla won’t freeze feeling all their eyes upon her.
You shouldn’t have been worried, though. Darla nails her post-games interview. The audience finds it adorable when the girl says she took so long because her mentor was fussing over her hair and her dress.
“You wouldn’t think it- but she’s a real mother hen.” Darla says, and you smile as you watch from backstage. The audience erupts into a gleeful sort of laughter at the comment.
Caesar knows just what to do with it, too, “well it’s no wonder, I’m sure you’ve made her proud!” Darla beams, and very convincingly so. “Let’s take a look back at Darla’s games!”
To your great relief, Darla holds it together through the recap. The girl gets boisterous applause as the leaves the stage, then comes flying into your arms once she’s out of sight. The force of it makes you stumble, but you quickly plant your feet and return the hug.
“You did great, kiddo,” you tell your tribute.
“Thanks!” Darla replies, speaking loudly from the adrenaline rush, “and thanks for telling me about when you face planted in a pile of cow poop back home, it really helped!”
Every single person milling around backstage turns to look at you when Darla says it. Not that the girl notices the extra eyes.
You drop your chin, trying to avoid the stares of these people. This is what you get for comforting her at your own expense. Taking a calming breath, you look up only to meet a pair of sea-green eyes.
Of course Finnick Odair heard that, and of course he’s smirking teasingly at you.
Like Jimmy Price all over again.
You stick your tongue out at him.
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I did not edit this so I hope it’s ok lmao. The new hunger games movie was great so ofc finnick’s been on the brain
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the0doreslover · 4 months
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Theodore nott | miscommunication
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pairing: theodore nott x reader
warnings: angst to fluff, readers a bit annoying at first, use of y/n, mattheo riddle and hermione being a dream team, not much tbh, not proofread
summary: you get in your own head about people’s opinions and almost cost your whole relationship, but hermione and mattheo are not about to let that happen
it just wasn’t fair.
Because of the colours he wore he wasn’t allowed to love you?
He’s the one who holds you at night
He’s the one who helps you study
He’s the one who makes you smile
Bullshit, it was all bullshit. You were both happy loving each other in secret until a few weeks ago when he found you in the astronomy tower.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed a gentle kiss to the side of your face. You looked back at him and gave him a small smile.
“What’s wrong?” he asked you
“nothi-”
“don’t give me that, what’s wrong?”
“do you not worry about our future?” you sighed
“not really, why?” he unwrapped his hands from your waist and turned you to face him.
“do you think we even have a future?”
theodore took a step back “i do, do you not?”
“I just think” you looked down “we’re setting ourselves up for failure, Think about it theo, everyone will have an issue with us, which is why we have to love each other in secret. Why are we doing this to ourselves.”
he took a breath in “do you want to tell people about us? i don’t understand”
You felt bad, but you couldn’t explain it to him.
“No- no that would make it worse”
“y/n do you think this is fair” he scoffed
“think what is fair”
“us having to hide because people have their opinions”
“theo-”
“no! this is not how i want this to go, i love you” he waited for you to say it back.
“i love you” he walked closer to you lifting your head up with his hand.
he waited for a few seconds before sighing and turning towards the railing
“theodore” you could tell he was angry
“you had no issue saying it to me last night, or the night before that when you were practically throwing yourself at me-”
“What the fuck is wrong with you” you seethed “i think we need to seriously think about us theo”
“what’s there to think about?”
“well we clearly have an issue if you think this can work just like that” you walked away from him
That was the last time theodore had spoke to you in four weeks.
The valentines ball was tonight and you had no issue missing out, infact that was your plan. No theo, No point, even though you knew it was your fault, that stupid outburst you had on the astronomy tower had been haunting you.
“God why are you not ready? The ball is starting soon” hermione gasped at the sight of you in your blanket.
“i’m not going hermione”
“like hell you aren’t, get up and get ready” she snickered
“no, i’m really not going” you asserted.
She came and sat on the edge of your bed, her hair was pinned up and she was waiting to put her dress on. “What’s wrong? do you not have a date? neither do i, i’ll go with you”
“No hermione it’s not that i promise”
“then what is it?”
you sighed running a hand over your face “What would you do if i told you i loved someone”
“i’d be incredibly happy for you”
“but what if i told you i loved someone that everyone would have an issue with”
she thought for a moment “then i’d say tell theodore you don’t care what others think and you want to be with him.”
registering what she said you felt yourself smiling
“y/n we both know how bad it gets when you get in your own head, next time speak to me, we all know about you and theodore. You’re not slick” she laughed
“thank you mione” you pulled her into a hug
“you can thank me by getting ready, and fixing it with nott”
“how’d you know there’s something wrong”
“come on? sweats, seriously?”
That’s how you found yourself in the middle of the great hall with a glass of fred and george’s famous ‘fruit punch’ in a long dress and uncomfortable heels contemplating whether or not you should just go back to your dorm.
Theodore was in a similar position, he stood with a glass of ‘punch’ leaning against the wall watching his best friends dancing.
“Theodore stop being grumpy and come dance” pansy called out to him.
“i’m good thanks” he grumbled back.
He watched as mattheo walked towards him before leaning on the wall next to him.
“You’re a stupid man theo”
“tell me something i don’t know”
“you should go and dance with her”
“who?”
mattheo laughed silently before pointing his head towards where you stood looking bored and theodore’s breath caught in his throat.
“why- why would i dance with her?”
“you forget that i’m your bestfriend, you’re not slick”
“she doesn’t want to dance with me”
“For gods sake Nott!”
both boys looked to where hermione had magically appeared out of nowhere
“Go and dance with her!”
Theodore was in a bit of shock actually.
“You know what maybe i’ll go and dance with her” mattheo rolled his eyes and began pushing himself off the wall.
Theodore pushed him back and placed his drink in his chest. “No way that’s my girl”
Hermione and mattheo watched as he strolled over to you.
“We make a good team granger” mattheo smirked
“back off riddle”
“dance with me?”
“… yeah sure”
you sighed for what felt like the 100th time that night, you had sat yourself on a random table next to a few sobbing girls when you noticed theodore walking towards you.
Quickly you stood up before he got to you so you were face to face.
“Hi-” you both said at the same time making you both laugh slightly
“I’m sorry!” you quickly rushed out before he begun talking
“no, i’m sorry”
“what are you sorry for theo? i started it, i got in my own head can we forget about it?”
“You dressed up looking all gorgeous, i’ve already forgotten about it” he grinned extending his hand towards you “will you dance with me”
Grabbing his hand you pulled him towards you and smashed your lips onto his, wrapping your hands around his neck you felt instant relief when he reciprocated your actions and begun kissing you back.
When you finally broke the kiss, there was a shared understanding in your eyes, and with the taste of reconciliation lingering in the air, you and Theodore shared a knowing smile. The tension that had built up over the past weeks seemed to dissipate completely.
"Shall we actually go and dance now?" Theodore suggested, his hand still intertwined with yours.
A sense of relief washed over you, and you nodded,
He guided you toward the dance floor, and as you began to sway together, the world around you blurred, and all that mattered in that moment was you two, not anyone else who had an opinion, they could fuck right off.
“by the way, everyone knows. We’re not slick baby”
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ssahotchnerr · 2 months
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hi babe! was wondering if you could write something abt hotch + reader having their daughter’s first birthday and all of the team is there and it’s so cute and we get big brother jack.
maybe it including light bickering between them but it’s so clear they love each other so much still and it really is just pointless bickering. something fluffy for sure.
up to you! i trust your wonderful writing , thank u bunches !
- 🕷️ [is this anon emoji taken yet? oops if it is!]
take the bench
AHH that's so adorable 🥹 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, domestic banter <3 and aaron being very dad <3
"are you kidding, look how cute!" you exclaimed, holding up the little outfit for all to see. your daughter's tiny hands immediately made a grab at it. "this is perfect for spring."
"after two boys, i can't express enough how fun it is shopping for a girl." jj gushed, resting her chin comfortably on her hand. "new section of the store unlocked."
all had gathered for baby girl's very first birthday, and it's been quite the eventful afternoon. lively conversations, a plentiful spread of food, cake on the horizon.
currently your daughter was sat comfortably on your lap, while you orchestrated the whole present-opening extravaganza.
at her young age, she could pull the tissue paper out of the gift bags as instructed, you and jack helped with the actual paper ripping as needed. whether it was you tearing off a starter piece, or jack proudly fulfilling his big brother duties - simply unwrapping it entirely himself and excitably showing his sister what she had received.
and meanwhile, aaron had the most dad job: trash bag duty. it was right up his alley naturally, being sure to punctually collect the scraps of paper before they touched the ground; preventing a mess at all costs.
which ultimately, led up to a new game.
"jack," aaron grabbed his son's focus, holding the bag open and jack caught on instantly. he grinned, balling up and throwing the tissue paper in hand in aaron's direction.
it started off gentle; quiet cheers when jack made the shot, not to mention the growing smiles on both ends. but then it soon turned into them firing off at each other, a bit too aggressive in the constraints of the living room. jack's laughter heightened with each throw, and henry even began to join in from time to time.
while still enamored by the gifts, all thanks to her brother and father's volume, baby girl's attention was quickly drawn to them. she let out a high pitched squeal every time wrapping paper flew over her head and through the air, attempting to wiggle her way off your lap.
as much as you loved aaron and jack carelessly enjoying themselves, and the addictive giggles emitting from your daughter, you also didn't want to take the focus away from everyone's generous gifts. they had spent time, and money, and deserved the proper recognition in return.
"aaron." you warned lightly, raising an eyebrow when his gaze shot to yours - a silent, but loving nonetheless, quit it.
"alright bud," aaron caught the last makeshift ball from jack with his hand, shoving it into the trash. "take the bench. the ref is giving me that look."
"but dad-"
"you heard me. and your mother."
jack let out a small whine, but promptly complied. he returned to the stack of his sister's presents, shifting through and looking for the next one to give her.
"for someone on clean up duty, you sure are making quite the mess." you teased once you caught aaron's eyes again, jack placing the next gift in front of you, "a larger one, if i may add."
"mess isn't in my vocabulary." aaron quipped right back, a delightfully smug look on his face. "you shouldn't be the one talking."
you cocked your head to the side, comically, "oh?"
"who's side of the closet is currently exploding?"
"who's sock drawer has seen better days?"
"the parents are fightingggg." derek stretched out his voice, murmuring humorously under his breath and nudging penelope with an elbow. while the soft tone, his statement was for all to hear.
now, it was your turn to (lightly, as to not jostle baby girl) chuck a ball of wrapping paper at him. derek ducked, barely, laughing loudly as he straightened his posture back upright.
"good try, but not good enough mamas. you gotta work on your aim."
"see, i'm not making a mess." aaron teased as he came near to grab it off the carpet, taking a detour as well to give your lips a quick peck. "you have that title perfectly under control, darling."
you playfully rolled your eyes, a smile dancing its way onto your lips. aaron couldn't resist the sight, kissing you once more. "oh bite me, hotchner."
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