#{please forgive any mistakes

[fully-automatic-ass]

:3

do you guys think that mammon and beelzebub can both resonate with the feeling of being empty?

of never having enough?

perhaps the reason they reach for one more Grimm, one more bite is not just their sin(s), but also the overwhelming urge to feel satisfied for once?

to not have their insides writhing with the agony of being incomplete?

or is it just me?

[ksbbb]

mafia fic please!

“I think I need some time.” Liam reluctantly admits, and his heart sinks, expecting Theo to be saddened by this news, but he doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even look like he believes what he’s hearing.

“Okay, how much?�� Theo moves closer, clasping onto Liam’s hand as he studies his face, serious and unmoved in his decision.

“Like, a couple days, or something.” He explains, biting his lip, and knowing full well Theo can see right through him and if he wanted to he could easily convince him to change his mind.

Theo frowns, holding his hand, and becoming more unsettled as he understands what’s being said.

Liam’s barely conscious of his own feelings on what this means, but he has to do something before he winds up farther into the chimera’s life than he already is.

“I can’t wait that long.” Theo runs his fingers over Liam’s, and a tingle creeps over his skin, an unexpected sensation that almost pulls him in as he bites down hard on his bottom lip.

“This doesn’t change anything. You’ve always been mine.” Theo sweetly replies and Liam’s stomach is in knots now, and he’s playing right into Theo’s hand.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

[right to left]

STILL thinking about drunk chess actually

stupid as hell bonus:

[anna-scribbles]

vive la résistance and happy halloween!

[peatchoune]

(6/?) idle chat

[dragonbonez]

Little brother learns to do flower crowns.

[stella-lesair]

Okay, the cogs turned faster than expected:

Destiny was, and always has been, a cruel companion. But still, it managed to get confused by twins. Prince Halt knew, since the first thing he remembered and before that. As the older one, it should be him who inherited the throne, but how could anybody be sure with twins?

Anybody, in this case, excluded Halt and Ferris. Ferris, being treated with the same respect as the Crown Prince – as far as people knew he could be Destiny's Chosen – was naturally convinced that he should be the one wearing the great heirloom of the O'Carricks, the Ruby Crown. Halt had seen his brother's ego and felt his selfishness, so he knew that he wasn't Destiny's pick. Or so he hoped. But he knew that he was far from being the Chosen himself.

When he was eleven or so, his father the king had handed him to the Ruby Crown. Not to wear, heavens forbid, but to simply hold it.

‘Can you feel it, my son?’ the king had asked proudly. ‘Can you feel the cool and relaxing nature of this jewel? This, this, is our family's honour. And one day, you will carry it.’

Halt had gulped, and scanned the crimson crown. He hadn't answered, not because he hadn't wanted to, but because he had not been able to, due to the pain. With every second that he had held it, the pain had doubled and the panic had tripled.

In his hands, the ruby had burned. He had been able to feel imaginary flames licking on his arms, engulfing his mind and spirit. The crown had spoken to him at that very moment. It had said: You will never be able to wear me.

The flames had haunted him for the years to come, mostly in his dreams. He dreamt of a burning inn, and a little girl calling for help from within. He dreamt of a burning, raging war. He dreamt of a bridge hanging in what seemed to be the vast nothingness. It burned, as all things did in his dreams, while a young man stood on his side of the scene, while two other ones tried to fend off Skandians, and… bear-monsters? Halt wasn't sure what he was seeing. He couldn't make out the people's faces either, nor any defying physical qualities. They always blurred together.

On his sixteenth birthday, tension spiked. By some miracle, eleven year old Halt had managed to fool his father into thinking that the crown would accept him, so now he wanted him to wear the crown. Ferris would have his turn after Halt, so that they can finally see who Destiny's Chosen, the next king of Clonmel, would be. In all honesty, Prince Halt would have played with the thought of running away days before, if it hadn't been a spontaneous decision of his father's to consult the great link to destiny.

He tried to talk his way out of wearing the crown, saying Ferris should go first, but it only angered his father. And so, despite knowing what would happen, Halt placed the century old heirloom, the pride and joy and honour of all of his ancestors, the country's direct tie to destiny, the Ruby Crown, on his head. Fearing the consequences, regretting his choices even before anything happened, he waited.

One.

Two.

Fwoosh!

He didn't feel the heat, the flames were mercifully cold, but he sensed the rapid decay and ruin of the ruby, until only a ring of fire lingered on his head. Halt didn't dare to look at his family, guilt burning in his stomach just as brightly as the crown.

‘WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?’ his father roared, but Halt remained cold.

‘Nothing,’ he responded truthfully. ‘Ferris and I are twins, and Destiny cannot decide, so it destroyed the thing that would make it choose. That's why the fire didn't burn me either.’

‘You, you knew this would happen!’ Ferris accused, sounding like he was about to cry. He probably was, given that he loved power so much.

Halt shook his head. ‘I didn't know that the crown would burn, I just knew that neither of us would be chosen.’

‘Then who would have been chosen?’ Caitlin asked. She didn't seem sad or angry, she seemed scared but curious, caring about people more than the heirloom. He smiled woefully but didn't respond.

‘OUT!’ his father yelled. ‘OUT OF MY SIGHT! NOW!’

Halt bowed and left, followed by Ferris.

‘Why did you do this, brother?’ the younger prince called after him. ‘Why?’

Halt stopped to turn to face him calmly. ‘I didn't do anything. If you mean the mere act of putting the crown on my head, you should ask His Majesty why I did it.’

‘But–’ Ferris met his cold gaze and fell silent. ‘How could anything have burned by your touch when your heart is as cold as ice?’ He sighed. ‘We will talk later, brother.’

He turned to leave another way, but Halt saw the murderous hatred flicker through his eyes. The prince shook his head. Ferris had glared at him like that before, it would pass, he thought as he stepped outside.

CLIRR! 

He whirled around, only to see a broken pile of clay tiles right behind him – had they fallen a second earlier, they would have killed him. Still in shock, he looked up to where they came from, and shock turned into deep twinsting agony as he saw his brother fleeing the scene. No, he had been wrong this time.

This time, it would not pass. This time, Ferris would only stop when Halt was out of the picture.

As people flocked around their crown prince out of worry, Halt finally understood. Destiny was not just cruel, it was a tyrant doing everything to watch humanity burn.

It felt strange, fleeing from the home he had always known. It tore a hole into his soul, ripped his heart open and threw his spirit into a fire. But he had no other choice, so he wandered the hills aimlessly. That was, until a man noticed him and took him under his wing. They were alike, both of them refugees, so they stuck together, the dishonoured crown prince and the disgraced ranger of Araluen.

At Pritchard’s side, Halt finally felt free, away from the burden of being a prince, away from his twin and the uncertainty that came with him. Living and learning under Pritchard wasn't easy, but it was all he had ever hoped for.

One day, while he was washing up the dishes, Pritchard sat at their small dining table. ‘You remind me of the apprentice I had back in Araluen,’ he randomly said, then scoffed. ‘I suppose I cannot escape my destiny, while you seem to be finding yours.’

And Halt froze. Tears welled up in his eyes as he finally realised the truth.

Destiny did not get confused by twins. And while its reign was inescapable, it tried to be a kind ruler.

Crown of Fire

[kimasousparky]

didnt intend to post this but i like the coloring :)

[kyouka-supremacy]

Anyways can we please shut up about s oukoku and talk about the actually important parts of the last interview

[redwitchrune]

happy pride month heres some gay people

[daily-dose-of-bucket]

Day 77: my measly contribution to mermay before it's over

I decided to make her a Japan blue guppy and I also gave her a fun little outfit because I was feeling silly. And Kugie is a hermit crab using Kanna's bucket as a shell. Don't worry about the logic here.

The scales texture is by jojo-ojoj on DeviantArt!

[jakehoon]

· ˚ ˖ IT GIRL * a character template

this is a free character template to celebrate a character's birthday. this template is made with png and requires basic ps knowledge. the fonts used are spicy rise, poppins & elychalk by tzxico. click the source to download. credit is not necessary but please give a like or reblog to support.

[redwinterroses]

[part one] [part two] [part three]

Jimmy woke to the muzzle of a rifle nudging under his chin.

Blinking furiously, he followed the line of the gun up to its wielder: a stocky man with a bushy black beard and eyes like two ice chips. 

A sardonic smile played around the man’s mouth. “Well,” he said. “Want to explain why I got a couple’a burglars sleepin’ on my floor?”

“I—” Jimmy’s mouth was dry with sleep. The bright morning sun streaming in the windows made his eyes water and—the morning sun. He cursed himself for falling asleep. “I’m Jimmy. Ah—Tango said you wouldn’t mind—I mean, if you’re Cub?” It came out as a question, and he swallowed against the cold iron nuzzling his throat.

“Tango?” the man’s eyes flicked over to where Tango—damn him—was still softly snoring, his derby settled over his face. The muzzle of the rifle retreated a little bit, and the man kicked Tango’s foot.

With an indignant exclamation, Tango came awake, his hat falling to the side.

“Hey!” he spluttered. “What’s the big—oh. Mornin’, Cubby.”

“Tango.” Cub withdrew the rifle and held it loose at his side. “Seriously? You could have knocked, man. I’ve got spare rooms.”

Tango sat up, gesturing at the rifle. “Sure, but I know better than to bang on a door in the middle of the night when Ol’ Faithful might see me before my good buddy Cub.”

“Fair enough, fair enough.” Cub stood back, and let the rifle hang loose at his side. His eyes narrowed. “Back to my first question. Why do I have a couple’a burglars sleeping on my floor—besides the fact that they didn’t want to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

Tango groaned and got to his feet, stretching mightily. Jimmy, eyeing that rifle dubiously, sat up as well and tried to work the cricks out of his neck. 

“Train robbery,” Tango said. “Just south of here. Greysides gang cottoned onto me and had someone waiting for me when I tried to catch a ride back to Tumbleton.”

Cub whistled appreciatively. “Greysides, huh? Bad bunch.”

“We need to send a telegraph, actually,” Tango said. “Assuming Chef’s awake this early?”

“Man’s up before dawn most days,” Cub said. He nodded toward the door. “Who’re you planning to wire, though? Those pillagers’ll be gone long before any law gets there.”

“They stopped the train,” Tango said. “I’ll wire ahead to Tumbleton and if they haven’t arrived someone will have to go and find the engine—or whatever’s left of it. I doubt they killed anyone but they might have scuppered the works.”

Cub nodded, then pulled a tin out from under the counter. “Coffee? I can have it brewed by the time you’re back.”

“Cubby, I could kiss you.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Tango turned to Jimmy. “Wait here—I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

And with that, he jogged out the door and vanished into the morning sun.

To his dismay, Jimmy felt a twinge—a pang of something in his chest that tugged after Tango. He resisted easily, for now, but that confirmed his suspicions: his curse had officially latched on to the bounty hunter.

He barely kept himself from swearing.

“You’re from Spawnheart?” 

The question was so abrupt that it made Jimmy start. He turned to find Cub regarding him with an unreadable expression. The saloon owner stared at him, and Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if he were being measured and weighed, and that Cub wasn’t impressed with what he saw.

“I… yeah, I am,” he said. He clambered to his feet and started packing his bedroll. Glancing back at Cub, he raised a self-deprecating eyebrow. “Is it that obvious?”

Cub shrugged. “I grew up there myself, actually. And it’s a pretty obvious guess—you’re not from around here, you were on a train heading toward new-gen…” he tilted his head thoughtfully. “You look familiar.”

Jimmy tensed. “...Yeah?”

Cub’s eyes were fixed on him, his expression entirely neutral. “Maybe. What did you say your last name was?”

“I didn’t.” Jimmy wondered how fast he could make it to the door—though where he thought he’d go after that he hadn’t the foggiest—before Cub lifted the rifle at his side. He shifted his weight, and Cub’s hand twitched a hair on the gun—

And then the man smiled, relaxing. “Fair enough, fair enough,” Cub said, his voice amiable. “A guy’s entitled to his secrets on the frontier. Sometimes they’re the most valuable thing you’ve got.”

Still wary, Jimmy buckled the leather strap around his bedroll, his attention never leaving Cub. He felt like he was facing down another creeper, and he couldn’t figure out why this one hadn’t exploded yet.

He held the bedroll aloft. “You, ah… you mind if I toss this back in the ender chest?”

Cub plonked the rifle down on the bartop and gestured for Jimmy to go around behind. “Be my guest,” he said. “Again, I guess.”

Jimmy stepped behind the counter, dropped the roll into the void-space of the ender chest and let the lid fall shut. “I can pay. For using your floor last night.”

Cub shook his head. “Nah, no worries, friend.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “Just do me a favor and keep an eye on that knucklehead, and we’ll call it even.”

Like I’ve got any choice at this point. “Yeah,” Jimmy said. “Sure.”

Pulling out one of the barstools with his foot, Cub sat, and leaned forward, resting both arms on the bartop. All the suspicious tension seemed to have gone out of him, though Jimmy was still wary of those sharp eyes. “So,” Cub drawled. “What are you hoping to find out in new-gen? Gold? Adventure? Wide open spaces?”

“All the above, I guess.” Jimmy moved to one of the tables nearer the door and sank into one of the wooden chairs. It creaked slightly under his weight. “Mostly just… something far away. Find a little valley, build a farm. Maybe breed some horses—I’ve always liked horses.” Even as he said it, the dream took shape in his mind’s eye: a long, low cabin, cozy on the inside, with a barn full of bright-eyed horses and their hay-scented warmth. 

He brushed away the vision, stowing it away to consider later. After he’d gotten rid of his unwitting partner. “How do you know Tango? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Cub grinned—and unlike every other time, this smile was missing that predatory edge. This smile was genuine, and it took Jimmy a little by surprise.

“Oh, Tango and I go way back,” Cub said. “He’s been out here even longer than me, but when my first crew came out to new-gen he and a few others gave us a hand. We’ve all spread out over the years, but we keep in touch.” Steepling his fingers in front of his face, he raised his eyebrows. “How do you know Tango of the Tek variety?”

“Tek variety?” Jimmy shook his head. “I just met him last night. He… I think he saved my life? But he also made me jump off a train so I’m not exactly sure where that stands.”

The tugging sensation in his chest told him exactly where “that” stood, but he wasn’t about to explain that to the man who had woken him up with a weapon and apparently had a long history with Tango. Didn’t seem wise.

“That’s Tango all over.” Cub sat back and slapped the counter. “Well, if it’s new-gen you’re heading for, you could do worse than hanging around Tango for a bit. See if he’ll take you as far as Tumbleton—that’s about as far out as civilization goes at this point.”

Jimmy nodded noncommittally, and watched as Cub got up and retrieved his rifle. He slung its leather strap over one shoulder and stowed the weapon comfortably across his back, then gave Jimmy an evaluating glance. 

“Feel free to hang out in here until Tango gets back,” Cub said. He jerked his thumb toward the door. “I’ve got a few errands to run before the bar opens this afternoon. Alternatively… there’s a couple bottles of water under the counter and a spare ender chest you’re welcome to. Tango’s down on the east side of town so if you head west you can probably get a few miles out before he figures it out.”

Blinking, Jimmy fought the urge to reach for his pistol—or to bolt for the door.

“Ah…” he managed, “Why—what makes you think I would—”

“Boots.” Cub pointed at his feet. “You were asleep with your boots on. Maybe you’re just weird about it, but in my experience a man who sleeps with his boots on is a man on the move. Or on the run. And I’ll be honest with you, Jimmy—” he put an odd emphasis on the name, as if he knew there was something Jimmy was hiding. “I’m not sure I’m too keen on my buddy Tango takin’ up with someone on the run.”

There was no cold muzzle at Jimmy’s chin as there had been when he woke, but Cub’s expression was as emotionless as a bullet. 

Jimmy found himself shaking his head. “I’m not on the run,” he said, aware that he didn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears. The door, with its long rectangle of golden sunshine, seemed to pull at him—get out, get away, don’t make this mistake again. The allure of the open frontier, with no connections and no risks, was heady in its promise of freedom. 

But the far-more-tangible tug in his chest that told him Tango was already on his way back, and he wouldn’t get far enough to avoid the man chasing after him. And he would chase, Jimmy was sure of it.

Casting a glance toward the window, Jimmy cursed his bad luck—and apparent inability to wake up early. 

“I’m not on the run,” he said again, and the words were more sure this time. “And I’ll do whatever I can to keep harm from coming to your friend.” He looked at Cub, hoping the man could see the sincerity in his face. “Honestly, I can promise you that.”

Cub pursed his lips, then gave a sharp nod. “Good enough.”

As he said it, footsteps tapped on the floorboards outside, and the door swung open to let in a burst of fresh morning air and the smell of dust and sage. 

“Jimmy!” Tango said, striding into the room. “I feel like I owe you a ride to Tumbleton after getting your train burglefied. You ride?”

Jimmy stood. “You got us horses?”

“Well… no.” Tango said. “Chef had a package he needed mailed to Tumbleton anyway, so he’s loaning us a couple of his mules.”

Cub laughed, and gave Jimmy a friendly slap on the shoulder that was maybe just a little too hard. “Good luck, fellas,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

And with that, he sauntered out of the saloon. Jimmy watched him go and then looked at Tango, frowning.

“Tango, why would he say that?”

Tango laughed, and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Oh, no reason, no reason,” he said unconvincingly. He gestured at the door.

“Let’s hit the road.”

[gravityfallsrenaissance]

I rewatched Gravity Falls with my sister and holy crap being an adult and watching everything Stan goes through is insane.

I’ve been working through some stuff in therapy and like, this man has made some mistakes but definitely did not deserve what the narrative did to him.

Screws up his brothers machine on accident? Homeless at 17 and doesn’t speak to his twin for 10 years. Sees his brother again when they’re both at the end of their respective ropes and in their worst places mentally? Gets in a fight that lands his brother trapped for 30 years while he takes his death and tries to open the technical monstrosity his brother built when this man hasn’t even finished high school. Gets his brother back after 30 years? Doesn’t get a scrap of acknowledgement and is told to move out and leave him alone. Has spent 40 years trying to fix and atone for his mistakes? Not even a thank you and gets emotional about it such that the spell against Bill doesn’t work.

What’s left? Oh I don’t know, how about losing all of your memories and sense of self, letting the narrative boil you down to nothing more than a mistake and the only way you’re capable of rectifying it is by ceasing to be yourself, as literally as possible.

Like, I’m sorry, but if Ford really was so unreceptive to actually talking/working through things, I think Stan had more than atoned for his mistakes. I don’t think he was a fuck up or that his takeaway from everything should be that he wasn’t worth it. That his sacrifice was what he owed the world for everything he did.

Because he didn’t do any of it alone.

And boo fucking hoo that Ford had to shoot his brother. If their places had been reversed I doubt Stan could have done the same.

I’m sorry, you trusted an inter dimensional demon, kept secrets because you were too prideful to ask for help or admit to your failings, and again too prideful to say thank you to your younger brother who spent 3 decades doing everything he could to get you back? Stop throwing such a tantrum and get off your high horse.

Sure Stan made mistakes, but Ford never seemed to learn from his.

Rewatching it I was actually angry at the ending, at the idea that when Stan is facing Bill he’s not even upset at the hand he’s been dealt. At the unfairness of it.

Because it was unfair.

And if I had a single gripe with the series at all I would wish for maybe one extra episode after Stan losing his memories and before getting them back. Just one single episode of Ford admitting how he hurt his brother, the role he played in the apocalypse, just 20 minutes of him coming to terms with his own flaws.

Because we as the audience know Ford isn’t perfect, but I need him to acknowledge that too.

There is so much fanfiction where Stan’s life is horribly lonely or traumatic in ways the show can’t cover or makes light of and I get it but also it’s clear other people relate to Stan feeling like all he’s done is make mistakes and that he deserves what he’s gone through and that is so NOT the case.

And I wish the official narrative would acknowledge that too.

[brass-tacked]

Looked to the sky (and said Please)

2.3K words, Buck x Eddie

Tommy’s gone. He barely even said goodbye. They were back on a sidewalk. This time they were supposed to be meeting for lunch. Tommy was 13 minutes late.

Buck had done his best not to panic as those minutes ticked by. He tried not to constantly check his watch. He tried not to think of worse case scenarios. He felt a gut punch breath push out of him when Tommy finally climbed out of an Uber. Buck was so relieved that he didn’t even notice when the Uber didn’t pull away. That Tommy didn’t even bother to close the door. He just leaned forward a little and proceeded to tear chunks of out Buck’s heart.

“This isn’t going to work, Buck. I need something else. I need more than you can give me.” His voice sounded clinical. His fingers were gripping the top of the car door.

Buck felt that breath of relief suck back into him. This time the oxygen was gone and Buck felt like he’d been breathing carbon monoxide. It felt thin and made his head spin. Before he could recover enough to move, to speak, to do anything, Tommy was gone.

…..

He didn’t remember what happened next. His mind a whirlpool of not enough, not enough, not enough.

Not enough not enough notenoughnot enoughnotenoughnotenough

Never enough.

Then Eddie was there. When he looked at his phone later he found that some part of his brain had been working enough to send Eddie a pin to his location. Apparently that was all the information Eddie had needed to drop everything and come to him. To show up like a guardian angel and sweep Buck into his truck.

They don’t talk. At least Buck doesn’t remember them talking. He does remember Eddie glancing over at him every time they came to a stop or there was a break in traffic long enough to safely take his eyes off the road. At one point Eddie reached over and put his hand on Buck’s knee, gave a little squeeze and then left it there. Buck remembers the heat of the it. The grounding it gave him. The oxygen coming back into his lungs.

…..

Not enoughnot enoughnotenoughnotenough

He’s in Eddie’s kitchen. Sitting in a chair and looking at all of the ingredients for sandwiches spread out in front of him. The lettuce looks like it’s started to wilt and the avocado is brown. Eddie is standing by the sink. Hands gripping the counter. Chris isn’t there.

Of course Chris isn’t there. He’s in Texas. Buck couldn’t get him to stay. He wasn’t able to do the one thing Eddie asked of him.

Not enough not enough not enoughneverenoughneverenoughnever

Buck must make a noise or do something because Eddie is now right there, kneeling next to him, and placing a hand on his shoulder. His thumb finding a home in that spot right between Buck’s neck and collarbone making small sweeping motions. Sometimes Buck thinks that Eddie’s thumb was specially made to fit perfectly in that spot. Or vis versa, maybe he was made to fit Eddie.

“What happened, Buck? Is it Maddie? Is she okay?” Eddie’s voice is soft. Almost a whisper. It’s like he’s scared Buck’s going to break. Eddie’s other hand comes up and sweeps across Buck’s cheek. That’s when Buck realizes that he’s crying.

“He’s gone.” That’s all Buck can get out. Even those words feel like they rip apart his throat on the way up.

“Oh, Buck. I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Of course Eddie figures it out from just two words. Of course he does.

“There’s not much to tell. I just… I wasn’t enough.”

Maybe if Buck didn’t know Eddie so well he wouldn’t have seen the flash of anger in his eyes. Wouldn’t have noticed the clench of his jaw and the tightening of all the muscles in his body. They way the gentle sweep of Eddie’s thumb across his collarbone stuttered for a second and pressed hard against the bone before resuming its back and forth motion. But Buck did know Eddie.

Neverenoughneverenough

“Is that what he said? Buck, you have to know that’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true, Eds. I’ve never been enough. Not to anyone. I just, I ju- I can’t do anything right. That’s why they leave.” Buck’s voice cracks and stumbles. He can taste the salt from his tears. They taste so much like blood. All he can taste is Eddie’s blood mixed with the oil from the truck and the hot asphalt. The panic. The fear. He came so close to losing something so important, but at least that day he was enough. At least he thought he was. He’d saved Eddie. He’d saved his family. But in the end it still hadn’t been enough. “Of course it’s true. If it wasn’t, he’d still be here. He wouldn’t be… he’d be here.”

“If Tommy doesn’t want to be here? If he wasn’t smart enough to see how great you are? To know how lucky he was to have you? Then fuck him. He wasn’t enough for you.”

Buck can feel his eyes go a little crazy. Eddie’s words sending a new wave of wild emotions crashing through him. “Tommy? That’s not. Tommy doesn’t matter. I still, I still failed. I lost him.”

Eddie take a deep breath. His eyes searching Buck’s face and his other hand coming to rest on Buck’s other shoulder. Gripping him tight and holding him in place. “You gotta help me out here. I think we’ve got our wires crossed a little. If we’re not talking about Tommy, then who are we talking about?”

“I mean, I guess we are kinda talking about Tommy. He did leave me and say I’m not enough.” Buck lets out of small sigh before moving his eyes away from Eddie’s and standing up. Eddie’s hands fall away with the motion. Buck feels so cold. His mouth still tastes like iron. He can feel Eddie’s confusion as he steps away to get a glass of water.

Once he turns back around he still can’t look at his friend. His eyes instead stare through the walls like he has x-ray vision and can see straight into Chris’s room. Where he knows the bed is neatly made. The controller for his video game console is placed neatly on the bed stand on top of the novel his was reading. His placed marked with a bookmark Buck bought him at the aquarium two years ago. The lampshade has a light layer of dust on it. So does the dresser and the bed. Buck thinks he should clean it soon. Just in case.

Notenoughneverenoughnotenoughneverenough

A broken sound brings Buck’s focus back to the kitchen. It’s halfway been a whimper and gasp. It sounds a little like Eddie. Buck can’t quite bring himself to look at his friend.

“Buck no”

“I couldn’t do it, Eds. You asked me for one thing and I wasn’t enough. Chris didn’t stay. I couldn’t get him to stay.” Buck is looking at the glass gripped in both hands. Still full of water because he couldn’t bring himself to drink it. He didn’t deserve to drink he. He deserved to taste the blood forever. For as long as his family was broken.

“No.” Eddie’s voice is like steel. Like a command that Buck wanted nothing more than to follow, but he can’t. He doesn’t deserve to. “That’s not on you. That’s not your fault.”

Buck can’t respond. He doesn’t have any more words. He just shakes his head while staring down at the glass. It’s a Superman glass. His fingers run rubbing against the raised lines of the emblem.

“I never should have asked you to go in there. I was being selfish and I was scared. It was never on you to get him to stay.” Eddie’s in front of him again. He’s so close that Buck can feel the pulse of his body, the warmth of his breath ruffling against his hair. It’s so hard not to lean into that warmth.

“Buck, can you look at me?”

Buck wants to. He really, really wants to. He wants to look into those beautiful brown eyes and find forgiveness and all the things that Eddie has always given him, even when he didn’t deserve them.

“Please, just look at me.” Eddie’s finger hooks under his chin. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t force Buck to looks up, but just keeps it there.

It feels like a magnet as Buck shifts. His head coming up and his eyes seeking Eddie’s. It feels necessary and cosmic and ineffable.

“Buck all I really needed that night was for you to be there. I needed you next to me. My world felt like it was crumbling down and I did that to myself. I am the reason Chris left. You didn’t fail at anything. You being here, having my back? That was more than enough. You kept my world from breaking to pieces. Yes, Chris is in Texas, but I know he will come back. And you? You are more than I could ever ask for. More than I could even dream of hoping for. You’re everything.”

Buck feels warmth start to seep back into him. He’s still crying, just a little bit, but now the tears taste like saltwater again. He tries to fight a small smile from escaping because he’s still not sure he deserves to feel any happiness, but he can feel his lips start to turn up anyway. The smile grows bigger when Eddie’s thumb moves up and starts gently sweeping across his lips.

It feels like too much and not enough and like he’s about to explode as he stares into Eddie’s eyes. As he shivers from the sensation ghosting over his lips. He takes a deep, shaky breath and they’re close enough that their shoulders knock together and their noses brushing against each other.

The kiss feels so natural. Eddie’s lips soft and gentle. His thumb sliding away from Buck’s mouth and moving to cradle the back of Buck’s head. The feeling of Eddie’s fingers burrowing into his hair almost makes his legs give out. He reaches for Eddie to steady himself, wrapping his arms around the other man’s back. The kiss feels like an inferno. Consuming him. But it also feels like a mountain lake, cool and refreshing. It feels like the warmth of the sun in the early days of summer. It feels like being welcomed home.

He lets out a little laugh as the kiss ends. He can feel joy and hope and so much love bubbling through him. He wants nothing more than to keep on kissing Eddie forever, but he has to clear one thing up first. Even though it’s serious, he’s so happy that he can’t keep the smile off his face or the laugh out of his voice. “You know it’s not all your fault right? You never asked Kim to show up and pretend to be Shannon. Please tell me you know how crazy she was to do that?”

Eddie laughs too. Just a little one. He keeps his hands buried in Buck’s hair and gently knocks their foreheads together. “Yeah, I worked that much out with Frank. But that’s not important. You’re what’s important.”

“Did you work that one out with Frank too?” Buck’s smiling as his hands start tracing imaginary patterns on Eddie’s back. Savoring the moment and a little unable to believe it is happening.

“Yes, actually. Frank and I talk about you a lot. About how, besides Christopher, you’re the most important person in my life. About visualizing what happiness looks like for me and it had your face. About how to handle being in love with you while you were in a relationship with another man.” Eddie’s voice is so soft and vulnerable on that last sentence that it makes Buck’s heart squeeze.

Buck tilts his head back to swallow back the emotion that threatening to overwhelm him. The movement dragging Eddie’s nose down his cheek sending another shiver through his body and making his hands clench against Eddie’s back before Eddie drops his head to rest on Buck’s shoulder. He has to clear his throat a few times while gathering his thoughts before he can respond.

“The thing about Tommy, well, he was really just a placeholder because I didn’t think I could have what I really wanted.” Eddie made a wounded sound and Buck shushed him while tightening his grip on the other man’s back, pulling them impossibly closer. “I didn’t realize at first or I never would have started anything with him. Then Chris left and that hurt. I wanted to be here with you. I never wanted to be away from you. It made me realize some things too. I was going to tell him today at lunch that I couldn’t see him anymore. I wasn’t being fair to him. Not when I’m so in love with someone else. He must have figured it out for himself though because he broke up with me on the street before I could even say hello. I can’t blame him though. I know what it feels like to be the placeholder and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“I need you to know that you’re not a placeholder to me and I never want you to feel like one again.” Eddie says before turning his head and places a soft kiss on the side of Buck’s neck. “And Buck, I am the someone you’re in love with, right?”

Buck can tell that Eddie’s going for teasing, but there’s the faintest tremor in his voice that gives away his nerves. It makes Buck’s heart clench once more. He never wants Eddie to have doubts. “Yes, Eddie, I love you so damn much.”

[ratinayellowbandana]

Hound "baby boy" of Ill Omen for prompts!

first off, thank you for carrying this whole ship on your back. you are our strongest soldier and we appreciate you.

second, even more thanks for sending this my way! I hope this is something like what you had in mind!

if anyone else sees this and would like to toss a little prompt my way, feel free :)

wc: 934

cw: body horror…kind of? it’s just canonically what the good boy looks like

~~~

Imogen loves Laudna. She does. Quite a lot, in fact.

Because it is a fact. 

It may as well be written in stone. In the stars. Recorded on one of those dusty scrolls in elegant script and stuck on a shelf in some stuffy library for the next bored student who may happen across it and learn of two witches who saved the world.

Laudna, it must be noted, is a woman of many quirks. 

And Imogen, it must be noted, adores her for them. 

They are just as much a part of Laudna as the angle of her nose, the brightness in her eyes. As are her projects, macabre and scrounged as they often are, and so Imogen adores them, too. 

(If it takes her a moment to come around, Laudna must never know. Each new creation, presented to Imogen with all the glee of a child in a sweets shop, will only ever be met with enthusiasm. Laudna, she knows, has spent too long squirreling away the odd parts of herself. Imogen is determined to recover them.)

“Come here, darling,” Laudna calls, and the flesh-and-bone creature that scared the everloving fuck out of Imogen the first time he burst from his maker’s chest trots happily to her side, tongue lolling from a fleshless snout. 

The hound twines between Laudna’s legs, and she lifts her skirts to allow him through. He leans heavily against the inside of her knee, and Laudna beams. She bends at the waist to wrap the creature in spindly arms. His back arches, and Imogen can hear the vertebrae curving, clacking, as Laudna scratches behind his one intact ear. The ichor-tipped remnant of a tail begins to wag, shaking them both with the force of it.

He spots Imogen several paces away, and his green eyes glow, peering at her curiously.

Laudna has stopped her scritches, and the hound tilts his big head. Laudna looks up, meets Imogen’s fond gaze, and her lips split into a wide grin.

“Go on,” she pats the creature’s sides encouragingly, “say hello if you like.”

The hellhound bounds forward, released from his command. 

Imogen recalls the day he learned his tricks.

Laudna had found Imogen lounging beneath a copse of trees one afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to sink, casting the forest in dappled shades of orange and gold. The festering hound loped diligently at her heels. His paws colored the leaf-strewn ground iridescent black in their wake. 

“Look!” Laudna had said, chest puffed. She turned to her newest creation and pointed one finger. “You’ve been so obedient all afternoon. I’ll see about giving you something from my collection if your other mom approves of your skills. I should have a deer leg that will suit you nicely.” She contemplated for a moment. “Ready?” 

The hound stretched into a bow, muscle snapping over exposed bone, yawned, and shook. Drops of blood and ichor spattered the clearing, but Imogen hardly noticed, too caught up in Laudna’s casual statement. 

She had said it nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just gifted Imogen something extraordinarily precious. As if Imogen’s senses hadn’t suddenly gone askew. As if she hadn’t just sent Imogen’s worldview slip-sliding into something new and dangerous and so welcome that it felt like a homecoming. Her mind spun until she was almost giddy with it. She wondered, then, how something said so simply could feel so significant. If Laudna understood what she had done. 

She had appointed Imogen the caretaker of a fragment of her soul. Of a creature that had been born of her, born from her. Crafted from the essence of her with whispered words and a desire to protect. 

“Imogen?” Laudna had said then, “Are you ready?”

And Imogen had glanced between Laudna and her hound, who sat on bleeding haunches and looked expectantly at his mother, and it was all she could do to swallow the creak in her throat.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

Now, as the hound nearly bowls her over, Imogen cannot find it within herself to be mad at him. Not even at the dark stains on her dress. They’ll come out with a prestidigitation or two. She knows from experience. 

She falls back in the grass and stares down twin emeralds. A broad tongue laps the side of her face, and she laughs, trying to dodge a cold, wet nose against her cheek. Her hands come up to cup the sides of his muzzle. 

“Hi, baby boy,” she coos. She rubs at his ears, and he presses harder into her palm, groaning loudly. She can feel the vibration in her chest.

Laudna scolds, “What have I said about knocking people over?” Her hands rest firmly on her hips. “Honestly, Imogen, you could at least discipline him. How will he learn?”

Imogen rolls her eyes, shrugs. “I’m the fun mom. He comes to me because he knows he can’t get away with anything when you’re around.”

Laudna huffs. “I’m sorry that I want our son to be civilized.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” The hound flops to the ground, sprawling over Imogen’s outstretched legs, and she lets out an oomph of surprise. “Are you going to join us down here?” 

Laudna sighs and settles beside Imogen, resting her head on Imogen’s shoulder. She runs her hands over the creature’s exposed belly, avoiding the biggest of the perpetually oozing wounds. His jaw unhinges happily. His tail thumps a steady rhythm against her shin.

Imogen presses a kiss to the top of Laudna’s head, and Laudna relaxes into her.

A soft smile spreads across Imogen’s lips.