#Im so invested in these two

[starlooove]

OK LAUREL LMAOOO

[oddthesungod]

they're a little bit fucked up and i love them a lot 🥰

[carpp]

more emilute

[spearxwind]

✦ Tfw your killer AI gets himself stuck in fucking orbit, somehow still manages to be a nuisance ✦

I've had this idea in mind for a few years and finally drew it, but since I've missed doing actual comic pages and I really wanted to start messing with more creative paneling I thought I'd use it as an excuse to experiment instead of just doing a little strip like usual >:] so enjoy this shitpost in 4k ultra HD edition

[zealfruity]

please tell us more of this vision of ahsoka being aalya's padawan 👀

Here are their outfit redesigns, since I've never drawn Aayla, and my version of Ahsoka's S1 outfit changed a bit. I think the only thing that would change outfit-wise in this specific AU is that Ahsoka might try to mimic Aayla's look later on, or get something to match the 327th.

I don't have much honestly. I was just thinking about that one episode where Anakin got injured so Ahsoka joined Aayla and Bly to search for help and they met a group of peaceful leemurs. I really liked the dynamic and I just started thinking about what if they had become close, which led into me thinking about what it would've looked like if Ahsoka was Aayla's padawan. That led me into having a very vague idea of Ahsoka and Quinlan's dynamic, Ahsoka and Bly, and then how Ahsoka's relationships with Obi-Wan and Anakin would change. Idk how much would change in the wider story, but I feel like this change would make some things better, and some things worse.

[pansyfemme]

dude im gonna cryyyy i am gonna miss my insallation class so much

[puddii-ng]

various shumikas doodles……

[crabplatinum]

i am insane someone please talk to me about them

[watchyourbuck]

Hi there! :)

For the writing prompts:

“W-who did this to you?”

Buck shouldn’t have shown up at Eddie’s door like this. Not today, not like this. But he has nowhere else to go.

His hand trembles before reaching forward, knocking once, maybe twice. It definitely slides down the wood after, and he has to support himself on the concrete wall to avoid hitting the floor.

Behind it, he can hear Eddie’s steps. He’s talking to someone on the phone, but it seems shallow. He thinks he’s about to hang up.

“Eddie-,” he tries to call, but his voice is faint and undetermined.

Please.

Please open the door.

Then it opens.

The scene in front of him is out of a horror movie. “Buck?” Eddie says, eyes wide, heart in his throat. His phone hits the tiles, a click ringing in his ear.

The man is showered in red. Blood that he can only assume is his going down his body and staining his clothes. He blinks. His lip is busted. Oh, dear god. His knuckles are- his wrist is broken.

“Help,” Buck says, and this is the day Eddie thanks his military training, because he’s able to catch Buck in his arms before he passes out.

It’s possibly hours later that he wakes up. He’s laying down on something, either a couch or a bed, and his head is heavy with pain. He tries lifting his arms but something is pinning him down. “E-Eddie,” he calls, unaware the subject of his need is sitting right in front of him.

“Who was it?”

His eyes adjust at the speed of slugs, and he has to force himself to sit up. He blinks until the world makes sense. “Eddie?”

There’s tears. Salty, whimsy, slow tears going down Eddie’s face, but he’s never looked less sad. Buck gulps. Eddie’s angry.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, breathing heavily. He’s sitting on a chair, legs spread and elbows on his knees. He’s covering his mouth with his fists, observing down Buck’s body.

He hesitates. “Eddie-,”

“Buck, for the love of god, who did this to you?”

This is his fault. After everything Eddie said, after all the things he warned him about. This is his fault.

He tries to move his wrists. One’s broken for sure, the other feels… twisted. He sighs, wondering if maybe he’s in less pain now that his receptors are going wild, focusing on too many alarms at once. “I-,” he starts, cutting himself off.

Eddie wastes no time. He rises from the chair and sinks back down, kneeling in front of Buck and grabbing his face with both hands.

Buck realizes he doesn’t know how to treat him now that he’s so incredibly… unglued.

“Tell me,” he pleads, but it’s an order. He knows him too well. This is the last lock before he unleashes a monster he hasn’t seen in years. “Tell me before I find out myself.”

Buck breathes, glancing down at Eddie’s lips. It’s only a moment he allows himself glory before spilling his guts with truth.

This is his fault.

“I told my dad about you.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Consider this my Wip Wednesday!

I’m very tempted to write a second part to this where Eddie confronts the Buckley parents. What does the crowd think? I’ll read u!!💗

tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @hippolotamus @malewifediaz @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @callmenewbie @jeeyuns & @thewolvesof1998 (haven’t been able to get to some of your works yet! but I will tonight, thank you!!💗✨)

also tagging @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @fortheloveofbuddie @evanbegins @smilingbuckley @giddyupbuck @cowboydiazes @try-set-me-on-fire @your-catfish-friend @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @disasterbuckdiaz @buckleyobsessed @mattsire @loserdiaz @wikiangela 🤍

[wolfofcelestia]

She's not your girl

Summary: Zayne's girlfriend's platonic / one-sided relationships with Xavier and Rafayel

Mood: Pining, melancholy, slight angst

Xavier - Ungranted Wish

She would be closer to Xavier than Rafayel, mainly due to proximity. She and Xavier would game together after work or hang out at the arcade, with her teaching him strategies for the crane game. Xavier would spill upwards of $100 each visit thanks to his insistence that he "almost had it", but in reality, he just wants to prolong his time with her, and give her the opportunity to play as much as she wants

They’re at the arcade so often and they seem so comfortable with each other that the staff even start to think that they’re dating. It’s only when she gets a text from Zayne telling her that he’s finished work that the illusion is shattered. For both the staff and for Xavier, who flashes her a weak smile of understanding and regret when she takes off the moment she sees Zayne’s car pull up

"It’s okay," Xavier tells himself. Whenever Zayne works long nights, she’ll be at his place again and they can game or watch movies together until they both fall asleep on the couch. Whenever Zayne lets her down, Xavier will be there to pick her up again

Even though her heart doesn’t belong to him, being able to spend so much time with her is enough

After all, out of everyone in her life, he’s the one she spends the most time with. They’re together all work day and sometimes even all night

It only hurts when he calls out to her, asking what she wants to eat or what game she wants to play, only to see her texting Zayne on her phone with a smile so full of love and joy, a smile that would never be aimed at him

Rafayel - Burned by Ice

Rafayel has her by his side because he pays her to. Not a minute more, not a minute less. She’s there to do a job. That’s what he asked of her, right? So why does he always hope that she would see him any differently one day?

At the very least, she takes the job seriously, so while she’s on the clock with Rafayel, her phone is on silent. He’d try to impress her with his talents because of course she’d praise him, just like all the art critics around the world. But she’s no art critic. She’s a hunter. The only art she creates is the blood splatters left behind by the wanderers she's slaughtered

So when he presents her with a glorious painting of the little red fish that brought them together, surrounded by sunlight shining through the sparkling blue water, all she has to say is “...Nice fish”

Ah. The flames inside him would instantly be snuffed out, replaced by an icy grip on his heart. Even though he’s never met Zayne, he could feel his presence whenever he’d try to win her over, if only a little bit. Zayne’s girl wears his influence like a shield, rendering her immune to Rafayel's charms that usually wowed so many women so easily. The worst part isn't that she rejected him time and time again. It's that she doesn't even realize she's doing it

She’d look so innocently confused at how heartbroken Rafayel is when she gives him her praise of the painting, thinking it would have made him happy. But the artist would just brush it off and put the painting off to the side with the others instead of giving it to her. He’d have to try harder

The only time he ever feels a little close to her is when he'd annoy her enough to get a rise out of her. "You're acting like a child," he'd tell himself. "You're acting like a child," she'd admonish him

If acting like a brat got her to see him as something more than just another source of income, he'd take it. After all, she looks so cute when her face would scrunch up in annoyance whenever he'd find a new nerve to poke

But in the back of his mind, he'd wonder just how long he could push his luck before she finally quits and he'd never see her again. He'd have to find a way to win her over before he loses her forever

[welcometogrouchland]

(on my hands and knees begging tumblr to not mutilate the quality of this drawing 😭) anyway, coming out as a secret marvel fan to announce that i really enjoyed the recently she-hulk run w/ Jen and her boytoy and am sad to see them go. Jack pls dont disappear into the ether i just got attached to you (ID in alt)

[cthulhusstepmom]

Ghost is observant. He's always been, even before it was his job. It kept him safe, safe from his father's worst moods, safe from bullies at school, safe from the inevitable deterioration of all of his relationships.

So when Soap starts acting suspicious he feels his heart start to sink. He's a big enough person to admit that he's been selfish with Soap, allowed himself to indulge in genuine companionship; allowed something dangerous to develop. But what choice does he have? The thought of leaving now and denying himself the simple warmth of John MacTavish is almost a physical pain. So it should be a relief when Johnny starts to pull away, it saves Ghost from being the one to do it. But for once in his long trail of broken hearts and slowly withering relationships, Ghost doesn't want it to end.

So he clings on. He seeks him out more often, snaps and snarls at the thought of Soap going out of his sight. He lays there listening as Soap wakes with a haunted scream, internally wrestling with himself until he gathers the courage to cross the hall and knock, his cheeks heating when Soap answers the door in just his boxers. He kicks himself when Soap redirects and prepares to bow out and take the dismissal respectfully when Johnny offers to come and sit with him and his traitorous heart soars in his chest. Soap is giving him this and he'll take it with gratitude. They sit together in the rec room for hours, watching the fish sleep peacefully until Soap has drifted off and his tea is in danger of spilling in his limp hand. He briefly considers taking Johnny back to his room but he rationalizes that there is a reason the Soap didn't want him in there and it really isn't his business. So he sits there and he observes. Simply watching the slight rise and fall of Johnny's chest as he sleeps on the tattered couch. Indulging in the domesticity of it all.

When a knock jars him awake in the middle of the night he's unsure what he expects but Soap delirious and bleeding was certainly not on the top of that list. A small lick of pride flares inside of him that Soap would come to him before medical, which brings with it quiet concerns and many questions. Still he brings Johnny inside and sits him gently on his bed, stepping into his bathroom to quickly grab his personal first aid kit.

Soap is saying something when he gets back, so deep in his accent that it doesn't even register as words. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, Ghost reverently takes his arm and starts to wipe at it with a damp cloth. Cleaning away the blood with quiet fervor, unsure just what could inflict such a wound on his Sergeant at this hour of the night. When the wound is revealed he flinches back.

Ghost is intimately acquainted with snake bites, has several scars buried deep in his collection that match the marks on Soap's arm, stretched and warped as they are from where he's grown since he got them.

And this is from a big fucking snake.

He looks up to Soap meets his eyes suddenly deathly sober.

"Just how'd you get this Soap?"

[chipsncookies]

Agata 👹

[spitblaze]

Gold and Silver are good kids and Gold likes to show up unannounced to Lance's house post-game to bother Silver and Silver is like 'ugh great just what I need a loud annoying weirdo' but they are neither loud nor annoying while they hang out they just quietly sit on the floor reading magazines abt pokemon or playing video games and sometimes Gold will shove something in Silver's face like 'WHOA CHECK THIS OUT' and Silver will be like 'can you quiet down. What stupid thing could possibly get you that excited' as if he wouldn't also be equally excited about the very cool article about Sharpedo Gold just found

[pray4jensen]

i have very low expectations for the winchesters finale but thanks to robbie thompson being showrunner, i think it’s fair to have slightly higher expectations than normal. so anyways, a good finale to me would contain at minimum the following components:

1) dean appearing for at least 5 min of screen time total over the course of the finale

2) dean’s alive or trying to get out of heaven and be alive

3) dean mentions he’s either trying to find cas, get cas out of the empty, or makes it clear cas is present in his thoughts in some way—bonus points if he calls cas by name instead of his friend or an angel

4) the finale doesn’t end on a cliffhanger because the chances of it getting renewed for a second season are slim to none so that would suck to be left hanging

4) carlos and lata don’t die because we need to stop having poc die for pointless reasons, esp since there’s a possibility they won’t ever be brought back if there’s no season 2

i think these are all fair and reasonable requests for this finale and i’m hoping it’ll instead surprise me by being even better

anyway back to putting my clown make-up on 🤡

[spocks-longterm-boyfriend]

Bigger Fish to Fry

This is my first time writing fic ever! Inspired by a post by @spirtkrek linked here where she headcannoned spock as having a little glowing minnow that he's obsessed with. I sat down and listened to there's something going on by frida and this is what happened! Thanks!

The ship thrummed comfortingly beneath his feet as Kirk hurried through the hall towards the officer’s quarters. He assured himself that he was in fact moving at an entirely normal pace, just with purpose, and due purpose at that. Kirk had, to no avail, been seeking out Spock since the end of Alpha shift, which had now ended a standard hour prior. After not having located him in the labs or the officer’s mess that his first officer most often frequented after a typical alpha shift, Kirk had messaged Spock to ask of his plans for the evening and been met with no response. While Kirk would normally just have been disappointed that the Vulcan had departed so quickly after shift, when they often left in a natural tandem, at the present he found himself genuinely concerned at his first officer’s rate of exit. Spock had left in a hurry, after a relatively-trouble free shift, and Kirk felt it would be remiss of him not to see what might have disturbed his typically level mannerisms– even if Uhura had wrongfully chided him for being lovesick and overprotective as he caught her to ask after Spock on the way to the mess. 

As he moved along his ship’s corridors, Kirk found himself mentally searching for an answer to Spock’s rapid departure from the bridge. Kirk felt that in the past year and a half of their working together Spock and himself had developed a strong working relationship and even a tentative friendship. Although, its tentative nature came more so from Kirk’s apprehension to breach what he perceived as Spock’s level of comfort with him than any reservation of his own. He knew that Spock was more reserved than himself in regard to defining his relations, and while they found themselves together often in their off hours, and Kirk trusted him more than just about anyone other than Bones, he hesitated to label himself as Spock’s friend. Nevertheless, he felt confident that Spock would have responded to Kirk’s inquiry at his status for the evening if something were not occupying his attention, and paired with his quick exit from the bridge, Kirk found himself concerned. 

Kirk rounded the last corner on the way to his and Spock’s neighboring quarters and directed himself to Spock’s door, pressing the door chime quickly and moving to straighten his command golds. If Spock were truly in distress, it wouldn’t serve either of them for Kirk to be a mess at his door. It also gave him something to do with his hands as he awaited an answer. After a moment, the door opened, revealing a seemingly undisturbed Spock, save for a nearly undetectable look of surprise somewhere between his angled brows. 

“Captain? I find myself surprised at your arrival. Have we received further orders from the admiralty regarding Draylon II?” Spock inquired, seeming to bring even further severity to the angle of his posture and to begin mental preparation for another night of meeting unforeseen challenges in their journey through the stars. Kirk admired the way in which Spock dedicated himself so wholly to their crew, it often felt as though he was the only first officer in the ‘Fleet who could love and serve the Enterprise and her crew as much and as entirely as Kirk did, but in this moment, Kirk felt sorry for the almost imperceptible softness he had just scared away from Spock’s frame. It was not often that Spock let himself fully relax, and it had taken months for Kirk to see that slight relaxation in his shoulders during their more-than-weekly chess matches or time spent off shift alongside the bridge crew.

“No, no, Mr. Spock, my apologies. I’m not here on ship business– although I appreciate the reminder that I need to bother Komack about what is keeping the admiralty from giving us orders with the trade conference so rapidly approaching. Would you mind looking into any addresses made by Draylon II’s planetary leaders at the start of next Alpha shift? I’m going to see if I can draw any conclusions from intra-fleet communication,” Kirk responded, furrowing his expression, before remembering what had brought him to Spock’s door in the first place. “Anyways, Mr. Spock. I came because you left the bridge in a hurry today and I was worried that something might have caused you concern on shift– or otherwise,” Kirk inquired, quickly saving himself from seeming to concerned by joking, “Can’t have the best command team in the fleet working at anything less than our best, now can we?” Kirk shuffled slightly as he recovered, realizing with embarrassment how disproportionate his concern was beginning to seem to the situation at hand. 

“Apologies are illogical, Captain. To your first point, I will search for any pertinent communications at the start of the next Alpha shift, in addition to contacting my father regarding the approaching conference. It is possible that in his role as Ambassador he has come across more information in discussion with other officials than we will find through more traditional research avenues. To your second point, I did not intend to cause concern with my exit from the bridge following Alpha shift. I was preoccupied by a development in a recent experiment and departed with greater speed than usual, so as to not miss any further development,” Spock finished, bringing a tinge of guilt to Kirk’s mind. 

“Ah, very appropriate of you, Mr. Spock. As illogical as it may be, I apologize for interrupting any study you may have been making and I will leave you to it,” Kirk remarked, bracing himself for an awkward walk back towards the officer’s mess and recreation halls, where he was sure Uhura would be ready to make fun of him for his unnecessary worry-warting. 

“Captain–” Spock began, raising his immaculate brows ever so slightly and bringing a pause to Kirk initiating his walk of shame. “If you have a moment, I would be available to share with you its preliminary findings.”

“Of course, Mr. Spock.” Kirk answered, confused at the apprehension that seemed to cross Spock’s face at his own offer and following the man into his quarters. As he followed Spock inside, Kirk braced himself for the familiarly comforting wall of heat. In recent weeks, he found himself offering just as often to come to Spock’s quarters for their chess matches as he volunteered to host them in his own, knowing that the heat must bring Spock considerable comfort in comparison to the comparable cold of the rest of the Enterprise. Kirk also couldn’t deny his own appreciation of the Vulcan’s quarters– they were warm in a way that he could only ever find comforting, but also tinged with a spicy aroma that was distinct to Spock, and covered in so much of Spock’s taste in interior design and personality that it felt remarkable to be allowed inside. He couldn’t think of an event in their budding friendship that had felt as vulnerable as when Spock first invited Kirk to meet in his quarters after a shift, knowing that the man kept the space primarily for his own solitary study and meditation. In all honesty, today felt no different than that first time, as Kirk found himself warmed that Spock wanted to share his findings with him, in his role as Captain or not. 

As they reached a stop in Spock’s quarters, Kirk found himself brought before a moderately-sized, boxy glass structure filled with water and a number of brightly colored plants, drawn away from the beauty of the display by a tension in Spock’s frame. Upon further examination, Kirk believed the Vulcan to be distressed, but could only see a light akin to joy in his eyes. 

“Dr. Tesfaye of the exobiology department was able to secure approval from the admiralty for… private study– of some of the lifeforms from Cambrius VI,” Spock explained with a tone Kirk might characterize as hesitant glee, if Spock were any more expressive in his tone. 

“Wait a minute, are these the pets the Admiralty had me sign off on? Those bioluminescent minnows from that gorgeous ocean on Cambrius VI a couple of months back? The report said that they were found to be largely harmless and well-suited to solitary lives, when provided with regular periods of both light and darkness, because of the pattern of light refraction that affects the oceans of the planet, what with its angled revolution around its star. This is what you were so hurried to check in on after the shift today?” Kirk questioned, jovially. 

“Yes, Captain,” Spock answered hesitantly, with a tension Kirk might choose to identify as bashfulness on any other, non-Vulcan, member of his crew. After a short, well-meaning laugh, Kirk set to put his first officer at ease, completely taken by this new side of Spock. The captain began to ask Spock about his study of the minnow, paying even more attention to the minute expressions on the Vulcan’s face than the information he rapidly relayed between questions. If Spock were more prone to emotional intonation, Kirk might label his speech a gleeful infodump, but out of respect for his first officer’s sensibility, he cataloged it in his brain as a key study in a new lifeform taking up residency on their ship. 

After a time, Kirk paused the taller man to ask a question that he could not will from his brain without an answer, “Mr. Spock, thank you so much for sharing with me your study of a lifeform I was previously hesitant to approve for long-term residency on our ship and for sharing your detailed study with me, but I find myself with one important question left unanswered.”

“Yes, Captain?” Spock inquired, with a slight raise of his brow, seeming to take notice of the way in which Kirk had paused the Vulcan’s stream of information-sharing for this inquiry in particular, unlike with his other questions.

“What is your little friend’s name, Mr. Spock?” Kirk teased, delighting in the playful exasperation he found on Mr. Spock’s face, rather than the confusion or irritation that he might usually find at both his playful teasing and his assumption of a friendship between Spock and his ‘subject of study’. When had they reached this point of comfort with one another? Had Kirk been wrong to believe their friendship was only tentative? After all, only he had found concern in Spock’s behavior following the Alpha shift, and only he had been invited into Spock’s quarters to see Spock’s ‘subject of study’. 

“Aristotle, Captain.” Spock responded, softly. Kirk was struck by what a feeling of trust emanated from such a simple response. 

“Because of his study of bioluminescence in early terran history?” Spock gave a brief nod. “That’s a lovely choice, Mr. Spock. Thank you for sharing with me.” 

“Yes, Captain,” Spock seemed to hesitate, bringing Kirk’s attention to the close stance they had accidentally assumed while leaning in beside one another to peer at little Aristotle. “I will update you on any relevant information I glean from my study of this species.” Spock finished, seeming to regain a sense of Vulcan propriety following such a period of relative excitement. 

Kirk smiled softly, taking only a small step back from his First Officer, “I would appreciate that greatly, Mr. Spock. I will appreciate anything you choose to share with me about little Ari here.” Kirk recognized the natural conclusion of their meeting and his own hunger after having missed his usual period in the mess halls following his shift. “I’m afraid I must leave you to your study, as…” Kirk paused to think of a sufficient excuse, “some of my… duties after our shift today kept me from my usual dining period following our shift.”

Spock tilted his head down briefly in a nod and began to walk Kirk back towards his quarters’ exit. Pausing briefly as he went to open the door, Spock turned to the captain, “Sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Spock?”

“I would be gratified if you were to join me in my quarters following Alpha shift tomorrow. I believe that some… geologic materials I procured for Aristotle’s tank will be arriving and I plan to set them up for further study. Your company would be appreciated.” 

Kirk couldn’t help the sunshine grin that overtook his face if he tried. “Of course, Mr. Spock. I would be happy to. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Leaving, Kirk felt all final tension from his earlier search exit his body. However, by his third turn on the way to the officer’s mess a new anxiety was rapidly creeping in. With Spock’s extensive knowledge of the last decade in marine exobiology findings and immense care for such a small creature, Kirk had reached his own terrifying conclusion: Spock was undeniably adorable, and Kirk now had less than a day to process that fact. Otherwise, his newly-discovered– although maybe not entirely new (that was a concern to process later)– taste for his first officer’s exobiology ramblings was going to cause him significant trouble the following evening. Uhura may have been more right than he was ready to admit.