#also jimmy my beloved

[z0mbiew00d]

Life series text post memes but this time it’s BigB edition

[purpleskelet0n]

RVB GJINKAS!! THE MAIN GROUP!! YIPEE!!

tried my best to make them look like how they're described but I throw in headcanon as well :3 really proud of all of them!

I'LL DO SIDE CHARACTERS NEXT BUT I NEED TO RE-WATCH CHORUS FIRST

[alshaverpressbox]

your 2023-2024 minnesota wild (girls just wanna have fun edition)

[inspired by]

[ch0colatec0ff33-art]

My Scary Godmother hyper focus came back full force after reading the Omnibus!!

I LOVE THIS SERIES SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!

[parissfrogg]

So the newest chapter of When Fate Finds Golden Rings by the lovely @seasonal-writes was so sweet it killed me dead

+the little thing in the corner bc it’s hard to see

[cingulata]

The Mayhem writers talking about Zoot's surreal little world (and they answered my question wooo!)

[thetomorrowshow]

fighting back

Empires Superpowers au masterlist

this takes place about 4 months after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: food, flashbacks/panic attacks in a public place

~

“Here’s your menus, can I get you both something to drink?”

“Diet Pepsi, please,” Scott says, raising an eyebrow at Jimmy, who manages a stuttered, “Water, thank you.”

Scott nudges him after the waiter leaves. “Boring.” “Caffeine used to really screw with my powers,” Jimmy admits. “I haven’t had any in a long while, but I used to drink a bunch of Mountain Dew, and coffee every morning. Stopped when I was around twenty-three, I think.”

Scott leaves it at that, instead asking, “So you’ve never been to a restaurant before?”

“When I was a kid my parents would take Lizzie and me to, like, buffet places,” Jimmy shrugs. “But then my mom got really sick at one, and going out as a family to someplace nice was too expensive. So we got fast food drive-throughs on road trips or for celebrations, but not much else.”

“Criminal. What do you want to order?”

Jimmy thumbs through the plastic menu, biting his lip. “Um. Not sure. Do I have to get from—”

“Here are your drinks,” the waiter interrupts, placing a tall glass of soda in front of Scott and a matching one in front of Jimmy. “I’ll be back in a few minutes for your order!”

“Thanks so much,” Scott says, Jimmy echoing him. He takes a sip of the water, ice clacking against his teeth.

It’s not a fancy restaurant, by any means. It’s a diner in a cheap part of town, a place that Scott had said has the best fries and milkshakes and had gotten very excited when Jimmy had said he’d never really been out to eat before. Jimmy’s fairly sure that Scott’s made a list of places to eat, to go along with all the sights Jimmy’s never seen and the foods Jimmy’s never tried.

There’s a decent crowd of people here, too, which is why Jimmy’s more put-out than anything else when he feels a hand run through his hair.

He jumps a little, glances around to make sure nobody is near him. Scott glances up at him, then back to the menu.

“I’m gonna get the roast beef sliders. Anything sound good to you?”

No flashbacks sounds good to him, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, phantom fingers curling around his hair. He turns his eyes back to the menu, stares at it uncomprehendingly for a few moments. “Um, you pick,” he says, pushing the menu to Scott. “What’s good here?”

“Ooh, definitely the reuben if you like rye, but the turkey and swiss is always a safe choice. Good?”

“Mhm, sounds fine,” Jimmy mumbles. He tries to grab hold onto anything Scott had told him about the food here through the brain fog of flashbacks. “Uh, you said the fries are good?”

“Ooh yes, I’ll get us both fries and milkshakes. What flavor of milkshake?”

Jimmy can’t remember any ice cream flavor ever, suddenly. He checks the menu, picks the first thing he sees. “Vanilla?”

“Sure! I’ll match.”

As casually as he can manage, Jimmy slips an ice cube out of his glass, cradles it in the palm of his hand. It’s supposed to ground him, remind his body that he’s in the present. The hand in his hair stubbornly remains.

He holds onto the ice cube until it melts, dribbling water in a small pool on the table. It doesn’t do anything but make his hand burn with the cold.

He blinks rapidly, twitches his head several times to try and shake the hand away. His trained instincts are starting to settle in, his body going still. If he moves his head, he might get slapped.

“Everything okay?”

Jimmy smiles easily, brightly, in Scott’s direction. His boyfriend is giving him a concerned look, hand out for Jimmy to take. Jimmy takes it.

“I’m fine, babe. Just got a little lost in thought!”

The acting skills from that one role as Cod Number 3 in Empires South Middle School’s production of The Little Mermaid Jr are really paying off.

Scott’s face eases, just as he looks up to see the waiter approaching them. Jimmy orders with no issue, watches the very pretty way Scott’s eyes scrunch up as he pretends to examine the menu one last time before ordering.

That doesn’t get the hand out of his hair, though. Maybe he should buzz it. Shave his head. Nothing for phantom hands to touch.

The hand trails down to rub his shoulders and Jimmy knows that wouldn’t solve the problem.

The food arrives and Jimmy releases Scott’s hand to watch him for cues, not trusting his unstable mind to do things in the right order. Scott unwraps his silverware so Jimmy does so as well; Scott places his napkin on his lap and Jimmy follows suit.

Scott seems to enjoy his food, and Jimmy understands that his tastes good as well but it’s hard to process. Everything is hard to process. It’s too bright in here, too loud. A family with three shouting kids passes by and Jimmy can’t help but flinch away, a movement that he tries to suavely change into wrapping his arm around Scott’s shoulders.

Scott scoffs at him, wriggles out from under and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “How’s your food?”

“Good,” Jimmy responds automatically, taking another bite. The hand pulls hard enough on his hair that his head jerks back and he freezes, biting his lip. He’s not going to cry here. He just wants to enjoy a nice meal with his boyfriend. Why can’t he just have a good time?

“Scott, love?” Jimmy manages, the slightest tremble making its way into his voice. He gathers his courage before he’s too anxious to ask. “Could—could you touch my hair?”

Scott goes still. After a moment, he slowly turns to give him a concerned look. “Jimmy, your hair is off-limits. We set that boundary in place ages ago.”

Great, now Scott probably thinks something ridiculous, like he misses the feeling of horrible hands touching his hair. He doesn’t, he doesn’t at all—in fact, he’s so nervous about Scott touching him that he can feel himself begin to shake. He just needs a little push.

“I just—I—” he takes a calming breath, places his clenched hands on the table, “there’s—there’s a hand. In my hair. And I—I want a real one. So I can tell the difference.”

Scott’s eyes flick up, and Jimmy watches as his face morphs from confusion to understanding, then sorrow. “Oh, Jimmy. I’m sorry that’s happening.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jimmy grits out as the ghost hand yanks again. “The ice trick didn’t work, eating didn’t help, it started almost as soon as we got here and it just won’t go—”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Scott says, glancing around as Jimmy pulls at his face. He’s fine, he’s not freaking out. It’s just a flashback, just a stupid flashback, and he’s fine. He’s not—he’s not—

“We can get to-go boxes, eat later,” Scott offers, already looking to wave down a waiter. “Really, it’s fine—”

“No, I want—” he wants to have a good time with Scott, he wants to eat, he wants Xornoth to stop touching him— “I want to be here, can you—can we at least try?” he begs, peeking at Scott through his fingers. “Can you try touching my hair?”

Scott glances around again, frowning. “Jimmy, I—” he sighs, bites his lip— “Jimmy, we set up months ago that if you’re clearly distressed and want me to touch your hair, I’m supposed to say no. And baby, you’re crying.”

And now he’s crying. Great. He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes, takes in a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want—I wanted it to be good—”

He can hear the panic in Scott’s voice when he speaks. “Jimmy, do you know where you are right now?”

“The diner, with you, and so many people watching—” he cuts himself off, buries his face in his arms. There’s so many people here, all staring at him as he has a breakdown over a stupid flashback that he knows isn’t actually happening but just can’t shake.

“I’ll get some to-go boxes, okay? We’ll go home—”

“But I want to stay,” Jimmy insists, and he just knows he sounds like a petulant child. “I want to eat out with you, I want you to not have to worry about me freaking out over nothing! I love you so much, I just wanted today to be normal. . . .”

Scott’s silent for a while as Jimmy sniffles into his sleeves. At some point a waiter approaches, asks Scott lowly if everything’s all right.

“We’re fine . . . no, he’s got PTSD . . . thank you for your service too. . . .”

Scott waits until the waiter leaves, lays his head down on the table beside Jimmy. “Hey,” he says quietly. Jimmy blinks at him through the tears.

“I won’t be upset if we have to leave. I just want you to be safe and happy. You’re not a burden to me—I want to spend time with you, and it doesn’t matter where.”

Jimmy closes his eyes briefly as the phantom hand falls again to his back, rubbing lightly. “Can—can you rub my back?” he asks, voice small.

Scott immediately complies, and the feeling of something real—someone real—touching him where the hand was makes the phantom sensation drift away, off into the air like it had never happened. He relaxes into Scott’s arm as his breathing begins to even out, tension seeping out of him.

“Told you,” he grumbles, pressing his head into Scott’s chest. Scott being there, his head up against Scott’s firm and real body, makes all the difference. “‘S gone now. Just needed you.”

Scott’s hand, still rubbing his back, pauses. “I—oh,” he says softly, resuming the backrub. “I’m really . . . I’m really happy you trust me in that way. I’m really happy I can help you.”

“Sorry for making a scene.”

“You don’t need to apologize for a thing, love. Flashbacks are nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Jimmy’s embarrassed anyway, certain that there are still eyes on him. He sighs, rubs his eyes before reaching for his plate. “Can we still stay? I want to.”

Scott gives him a once over, frowns. “Okay, but on one condition: if another flashback starts at any time, we’re leaving. All right?”

It’s the right choice to make, and Jimmy nods his agreement.

He’s still not used to luck being in his favor, but he doesn’t have another flashback, and he finds he can push through the exhaustion and enjoy dinner with his boyfriend.

There may be flashbacks, and panic attacks, but really? Everything . . . everything’s okay. For the moment, he’s happy, and he knows that a flashback is a minor setback.

He leans against Scott’s shoulder, sucking on his milkshake, and lets out a contented sigh. Everything’s okay.

[cryingincrocs]

Writing Ranchers angst is so scrumptious :3

Words happen between these bits but I liked these parts especially!! The work that these pieces are a part of will see the light of day soon-ish I'm so so excited

[columboposting]

No greater feeling of pain than when the obscure character you’ve been pulling for in a tumblr tournament is put up against a character with an unstoppable horde of dedicated fans. And in the first round too. My despair is immeasurable. Injustice in the tumblr poll tonight I fear

[juergenklopp]

Wait, their dads have talked about their connection before? Do you have a link for that one? That's so sweet 🥺

[...] and what both dads noticed the most: they love each other, and they love to prove others wrong. Q: Do they have possibly one of the most unique connection in football at quarterback and receiver? Jimmy Burrow: I think that's a definite yes. A special bond there between Joe and Ja'marr, and really, between our families. It will go beyond their NFL careers. Jimmy Chase: I think they both are like the same kind of person. Don't tell them what they can't do—that's the worst thing you could do. If you did that, it's over. They both have that kind of mentality.

From Jeremy Rauch on FOX19

[aliferous-ly]

Freefall and el rancheros 👀

Would all of their deaths be a poor case of wrong place, wrong time? It was a scant few seconds in reality, but the world slowed to a sticky-slow pace as Tango watched Jimmy get struck with the arrow. They both winced in tandem but Jimmy, Jimmy winced right off the edge of the tower, and Tango cried out, reaching for his soulmate in helpless terror.

Jimmy fell. Two mere words. Tango stuttered on an inhale as his gaze followed his rancher, their hands twin to Adam and God, reaching for one another as if it would help. Jimmy with relentless furvor. Tango with despair.

In the breath before Jimmy struck the ground, Tango thought, oh. So this is what it means to be cursed.

[duckmumbo]

i adore the team rancher idea PLEASE tell me more (also jimmy gets to pull a grian by following him to his home server lmao)

~moonie

Original post for context

OK SO BASICALLY this is really only legally blonde inspired bc i wanted to have the trope that breaking into a server is very dangerous and can actually kill someone, solely so Jimmy can break into hermitcraft and be extraordinarily injured and tango freaks out in that way where you get mad but it's just because you're scared and he goes "YOU BROKE INTO HERMITCRAFT??????" and then Jimmy goes "What like it's hard" and then passes out for several days.

also for Plot Reasons Xisuma is the only one with admin abilities and also is nowhere to be found nor can he be contacted (there is nothing angsty going on here he is simply taking his yearly very long nap) and so they can't let Jimmy actually die because he's not whitelisted and wouldn't respawn on the server, if at all

also also one day after Jimmy recovers, martyn pops up and jimmys like :o how and martyns like i have no idea and then theyre hanging out and then suddenly stuff starts to go missing and theres glitches and all the hermits are on edge because it reminds them of the end of s8 (which was not a simulation here) and they start accusing jimmy and martyn of causing it and they try to defend themselves but also they cant really because they have no proof but it's actually not them it's something else

[lolliputbug]

I’ve caved and made a tumblr, anyway, here’s the bad boys

[pharawee]

Wait is that (half of) Jimmy on the right??

It is!! 😭🙏

Hhhhh! 🫠

[rosenbergamot]

“What is he doing here.” 

“Huh?” Jimmy turns to stare at him with those big brown eyes. His face splits into a grin. He’s got a little cocktail in his hands, his wings fluttering excitedly as he sees him. “Grian! It’s lovely to see you!”

“What are you doing here.” He reiterates. 

Jimmy leans over the table to spear a piece of cheese onto his toothpick, pops it into his mouth, and then shrugs, still perusing the snack table as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “Uh, I dunno, man… Tango just invited me here, so now I’m here.”

“Uh-huh.” He won’t say he’s not happy to see him here, but they’ve got this thing going, and Grian would rather be thrown out a fucking window than be the one to break a bit. “And now you’re just here? All comfy with your fruity little cocktail?”

He laughs, hearty and full. Not the least bit offended. “Well, yeah, mate? Tango’s at the bar right now, so I got whatever the heck he made me-- tastes wonderful, though, I’ll tell you that! The man’s a great bartender--”

“Tim,” he cuts him off. “I don’t care.”

Another piece of cheese is deposited into his mouth. As he chews, he says, “alright, man. Jeez…” 

And maybe it’s because he’s drunk, but Timmy is looking extra pathetic today. And he’s feeling extra emotional. And maybe-- just maybe-- he’s got a soft spot for the guy. So he sighs, shakes out his wings, and then slowly, so slowly, begins to wrap his arms around Jimmy. The guy drops his next piece of cheese.

“Grian?!” He shouts. “What the heck are you doing?”

“I’m. Hugging. You. Tim.” He squeezes him tight to will out any protests. It doesn’t work. 

“What the heck?” He laughs, then wraps his arms around Grian in return. “You must be drunk, my friend, because you never do this. Actually, am I even alive right now? Somebody pinch me!”

He flicks him on the forehead. Jimmy flicks him right back, as if on instinct, then goes right back to hugging him. 

“I’m alive, I’m awake, but I’m worried for your mental health, mate.” 

“I. Can be nice. Sometimes.” It is actually physically painful. Why is he subjecting himself to this. This is hell. This is torture. 

Jimmy nuzzles his face into his hair. “Awww, man! You’re sweet when you’re drunk! Might just hafta start hugging’ you everytime I see you now!” 

He squeezes him so tightly he knocks the air out of him. Nails against his back, he says, “don’t ever say that again.”

“Okay-- okay!” Jimmy wheezes out, pounding at his back. “Let me go! I can’t breathe!”

He releases him, and Jimmy immediately scurries out of arm’s reach, panting. “Y-You’re a menace, you know that, right?”

“Aw, Tim, you flatter me.”

Another laugh, one which sounds like he just smoked a pack of cigarettes. He’s doubled over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. His cocktail is very slowly spilling out of his glass. Grian watches it and doesn’t care to tell him. It’s kind of funny. 

“Yeah. Alright. Remind me to never get that close to you again.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s never happening again.”

He slaps his knee, bending down further, and the drink pours out at a faster rate. The pink concoction is making a puddle on the ground. Miraculously, Jimmy still does not notice. “Well, I guess I’m happy it happened once! Even if you tried to flippin’ kill me with it…”

“I’m a fickle man, Tim.” The glass is now empty. “Anyways, we’re doing a tequila shot later if you’re interested.” 

He brightens up immediately, eyes twinkling. “Oh! Oh my goodness! And you’re inviting me?” 

His face sours. “I don’t have a choice, mate. You’re here whether I like it or not.” 

The smile that Tim gives him is radiant. Back to normal, then. 

It’s… nice? God, nevermind, that makes him want to throw up. It’s bad and he hates it because Jimmy is annoying. That’s enough niceties for one day. 

“I’d love to, Grian! I’d love to!”

And that’s about all the Jimmy he can handle right now. He turns around and slips back into the crowd. As he’s weaving his way through Hermits, he hears an ear piercing shriek from behind him.

“MY DRINK IS GONE!”

[kulturegroupie]

a few faves taken by ross halfin 💫