#Rusty buddy

[nightmaresyrup]

V. IV Rusty, He's got your back, he's your buddy and he'll offer you coffee!

What flavor? Why it's STEEL HAZELNUT, that's what!

... Ahh crap I might have himbofied again!

[pangur-and-grim]

Rusty Nail is so intimidated by Pangur

[the-lantern-lights]

Happy Magnus protocol Gerry! Someone compared him to a calico cat and now it’s all I see :3

[andr0nap]

cowboy au but i commit to the lack of horses on no mans land

[capseycartwright]

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he? 

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

ao3 link

t’s been a long time since Eddie Diaz had set foot in a church – of his own accord, at least. He’d been to the christenings and communions and confirmations of all of his various nieces, nephews, and cousins, he’d sat stiff in the pew as he’d watched friends, and family get married, trying his best not to remember how own wedding day, the way Shannon’s hands had shaken in his grip as they promised to love each other until death do them part, both of them young, too young to understand the covenant they were signing up to. Eddie had been there, for all those occasions, but he hadn’t gone to mass, or even sat in a church, just because he wanted to in a very long time. 

He wasn’t even really sure if he wanted to be there today, but it was a Thursday, and Christopher was in Texas, and Eddie wasn’t working, and he’d been having an extended mental breakdown for the last few weeks, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the pew of St Brendan’s Catholic Church, listening to a softly spoken priest with an Irish lilt to his accent – faded, after years in America, Eddie presumed, but still there, noticeable in the inflection of certain words – recite the Our Father. 

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but it felt like every other church he’d been to in his life. They didn’t all look the same, necessarily, though they followed the same format, rows of uncomfortable wooden pews and an altar decorated in gold, as opulent as it was suffocating. Eddie had thought it beautiful, before, the way Catholic churches were decorated in gold and jewels, believing for so much of his life that the wealth honoured God – but living life had made him learn the grandeur and displays of wealth were nothing more than indicative of the wealth the Catholic church had hoarded while their devout followers starved, all in the name of faith and of God. True faith didn’t need to be gilded in gold to be sincere, he’d decided.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but mass was the same. It didn’t change – though the wording of some of the prayers did. He’d sort of been checked out of being a regular churchgoer by time they had changed some of the prayers, only discovering the difference when he confidently started to recite it wrong at his youngest niece’s communion, his mother fixing him with a glare so icy hell might have frozen over under the power of Helena Diaz’s gaze alone. He’d never learned the new ones, not really, and so Eddie just recited the one’s he’d learned for his own confirmation, the words falling from his lips, muscle memory more than it was faith now. 

Our father, who art in heaven – hallowed be thy name . 

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, a little, as he murmured the prayer. Hallowed be thy name. He knew the prayer talked about God, their holy father, but the prayer had always made him think of his own father, of the way Ramon Diaz was a hallowed man in his own right, how he parented with an iron fist and expected to be obeyed. 

Things were getting better now, with his dad. Maybe – maybe that was part of the fear. Eddie had always been afraid of letting people down, but more than anyone, he was afraid of letting his father down – of seeing that look of disappointment set into every crease of his father’s face, an expression he’d been on the receiving end of for more of his childhood than he’d like to admit. Eddie had tried so hard to make sure he was never on the receiving end of that look again, but nothing he had ever done was good enough – not marrying Shannon, not the way he had tried to take responsibility for his young family, not the army, not the man he had been when he’d come home from Afghanistan. 

Distance had lessened the number of disappointed looks, but Eddie knew that was because he was simply not seeing them anymore; he was sure his father sometimes frowned at the phone when they’d finally call, silted conversation about Christopher and life at the firehouse the best either of them could muster. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better. 

At least it had been, until his parents had taken Christopher with them to Texas. It hadn’t helped their relationship – but it hadn’t hindered it as much as Eddie had expected either. He was never going to thank them, for the way they had swooped in, ready to take Christopher at a moment’s notice, but he could thank them for giving his son the space that he needed to process. Eddie couldn’t give him that space, right now, but he was grateful someone could. Still – he would be ready to drive to Texas at the drop of a hat when Christopher decided he was ready to come home.

Things were getting better, that was the thing. His dad called, every night, to update Eddie on Christopher’s day. Eddie could hear the familiar sounds of the Diaz backyard as his dad softly spoke, telling Eddie about how Christopher had been to the lake, with his cousins, and how he’d finished another book, and how he was helping Helena to make dinner, right then. It had filled the gap until Christopher had started to call Eddie himself, his voice tinny as he mumbled over the phone, things not quite back to normal, Christopher not willing to talk to him about anything except Marvel and Minecraft and how abuela’s tamales were better than Eddie’s, but better than they were, at least. 

Every time they were on the phone, Eddie reassured his parents that he was working on himself. He was back seeing Frank, every week, and at Frank’s encouragement, he’d joined a veteran’s support group. Eddie wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect military veteran he assumed he needed to be, to join a veteran support group, but the rag-tag group that met at his community hall every month weren’t exactly the flag-wearing, gun-toting veterans he’d expected them to be. James was a 63-year-old man from Massachusetts who ran the group – he had moved out to LA to live with his daughter after he retired and referred to himself delightedly as a stay-at-home grandfather. Luisa was a vet around Eddie’s own age, and she’d gone back to university after she got out of the army and got a fine arts degree. She liked to paint, and talked about her wife with a reverence and openness that Eddie could only admire. 

He hadn’t said a word the first time he went, and Buck had sat in the Jeep in the carpark, a ready-made escape plan for Eddie in case he decided it was all too much. Eddie had sat quietly as the group had chatted, drinking tea and coffee out of flimsy paper cups, and eating homemade biscuits – made by James, who, as it turned out, was quite the prolific baker – and he’d watched. He’d watched as the group had talked about their bad days, and their good days, and how they were coping with life after the military, and not a single glorious war-story was exchanged. 

That was when Eddie knew it was safe to keep going. He was never going to be a man who was proud of his service, and he didn’t want to have to attend a support group of people who’d talk about their time in the military like it was the good old days. He had spoken a little more, the second time he went – Buck doing his groceries, two streets away, rather than sitting in the carpark – and he’d introduced himself, his voice gruff as he tried to figure out what version of Eddie he wanted to present to the world. 

Eddie was still figuring that part out – the version of himself he wanted to be, that is. 

He was figuring himself out. That was the point. He was trying, he was really trying – and people could see that, Eddie was sure. His parents said they could, at least.

Which was why he was here – in a church not dissimilar to the one he’d attended every Sunday in El Paso growing up – on his knees, praying to a God he wasn’t sure he actually believed in for guidance. 

read the rest on ao3

[sobredunia]

Hey guys is it just me or are the stars in the sky looking a bit weirder than usual

Alt version + tagging of the creators of all the starlos under the cut

I was messing with this static filter thing and ngl it looks neat

anyways. tagging avalanche time. Left to right up to down

RustyRedemption!Starlo by EldritchDream_ on twitter (THE BODY/PLANT HORROR IS JUST *chefs kiss*) edit: THEY HAVE A TUMBLR THEY HAVE A TUMBLR THEY GET TO SEE THIS LET'S GOOOOO @eldritchdream99 LOOK!! ITS UR SILLY!!!

AntiMatter!Starlo by ghoulishthingz on twitter (I KNOW YOUR NAME NOW FUCKER. v good one ngl it fucks severely)

Hero!Starlo by @zedleaked (he b t-posing baybeyy)

Goldstar by @s0ckh3adstudios (fun fact I named the layer he's on "I miss my husband Tails". also this is the first time i've drawn him. and yet i've drawn utg chujin thrice already which i think says something. not sure what but it says something)

Gilded!Starlo by @moreworldliness (I LOVE HIM SOSO MUCH I JUST WANT HIM TO BE OKAY PLEASE)

VOACT!Starlo by mee :3

Sirius by @here1snyan (I don't need to explain myself you already know how insane this man makes me you've seen the dog art)

Nebula by @llamapear (THE FUCKING GUY OF ALL TIME)

Starry screen buddy by @therealcallmekd (i love his girl outfit i had to draw it)

Fell!Starlo by @pantamonte (he's so silly i want to see him flattened by a steam roller /pos)

Lover's amalgamate by @silverika326 (literally obsessed with this concept you dont even know. ive wanted to draw them for so long)

Devotion!Starlo by @specklx (really proud of how the pose came out ngl. he serves so much cunt)

Apollo by @vastrophel (not exactly a starlo but the design fucks how could i not draw him)

Cat!Starlo by @fivepedal (i lov. kimty :3 )

Starfell by @stringsbasement-vitale (he gives off ACAB vibes you just know he'd be a redswap starlo hater)

Redswap!Starlo by @wist-eri (I'm sorry i had to do it. i have literally never drawn this man in a serious situation/taking the situation seriously and I'm not gonna start now)

Hollow!Starlo by @floataaaa (literally the design of all time i love him)

Alright that's all of them. I have drawn so many stars my god

also. art taglist time

@rotkad @sansxfuckyou @blackfright @beetroot-merchant @ashs-hellhole @h3xt0r @bree-sae @helloidkwhatimdoing-0 @zecrisketch

[noneoutofnone]

Baldur’s Gate players are explaining how beautiful and complex their favorite companion is. How love blossomed over a 100 hour journey. Truly an achievement for writers to craft such a compelling romance. Armored Core VI players:

“That mech called me buddy I’mm gonna bust!”

[timmie15]

Some lil sketches with my favs <3

(Rusty & Iguazu's designs by Baby_Beff on twitter; u/Baby-Beff on Reddit. 621's design by me)

[kenpai-arts]

Rusty Sketch~

[sleepymaven]

Playing Armored Core 6 and just... thinking.

Thinking about 621 and Rusty possibly cuddling. 621 still wide awake as Rusty lightly breathes in his sleep, nice and slow but still present.

621 listening to Rusty's breathing intently. To his heart beat. Focusing on the warmth of his body heat.

Focusing on how alive Rusty is.

The knowledge his is just alive and well being comforting enough for 621 to finally drift off to sleep as well to the sound of Rusty's hearbeat; a soothing lullaby for 621's ears.

Just thinking about how my interpretation of 621 is probably so insanely traumatized that 621 needs to constantly be checking if the people 621 cares about are truly alive.

About how Rusty holds 621 so closely to his chest as a way of keeping 621 grounded.

About how shaken 621 must have been in that cave, having to fight Rusty. Hearing Rusty call 621 dangerous.

Imagining the thoughts running through 621's head in that moment. No. Anyone but Rusty... I can't fight Rusty– No. Not Rusty too.

Thinking about how 621 probably could have killed Rusty right there, but held back, opting to just damage his AC's enough to make him stop. Even ceasing fire when STEEL HAZE lost its arm, as if 621 was hoping Rusty would just stop, which he did.

..I really need to start writing again...

[piningbuddies]

Forever - Noah Kahan

tagging people below the cut:

@useramor @henswilsons @diazass @eddiescowboy @capseycartwright @thatbuddie @eddiebabygirldiaz @barbiediaz

[rvengefulobster]

Anyone else think this line was a bit strange?

[bruhstation]

Any ideas for Skarloey Railway??

of course! I'm working on their designs (they're some of the most requested characters in the 1k followers poll haha) but I do know what they're like in casa tidmouth.... the skarloey railway people entertain (not outright encourage) thomas' ideas about the supernatural phenomena plaguing sodor like telling him stories of a train that fell off a bridge, the tale of godred, etc. and thomas with percy in tow would storm off to find said mysteries that they provide. they're the silent pushers of the plot that mainly hangs out in the background and watch as the truth behind the island of sodor slowly unfurl while their hands are mostly clean. however, a certain irish young man clad in green may say otherwise....

I did doodle rusty, sir handel, and peter sam! here they are.

the rest will follow suit sometime later. I've featured skarloey in my introduction comic from two years ago, and I still think his design is solid! just needs a bit of refining, I suppose.

[the-lantern-lights]

I'm getting in on the jmart smooch crase ❤️

Well... Almost...

[latibulater]

used up my 30 image per post limit on this liveblog of the buddy system:

kind of want the shirt with the gorilla on it

i love his little insignia laptop do you think thats a custom macbook case

"who was that, van halen?"

"no that was sean puffy combs, daddy" rusty literally giggling and calling brock daddy while they make little references at each other....seriously s3 they were so close to fucking. also jesus that reference given recent news O.o

THEATREEEEEE KIDSSSS

honestly need some fic of brock bonding with hank by teaching him martial arts

knowing dermott is rusty's son makes this scene so much funnier

insert knock-off-my-smug-grin-to-reveal-a-tinnier-smugger-grin meme. and looking at this pic he reaaaaaally looks like jonas. really want a dermott getting knocked to the past fic so badly

this really is a great brock episode. he gets so excited when he thinks of getting another kid to cold war dermott's face in

i really enjoy all the kiddy character designs, the artists always get more funky with shapes when the person is only for the background

the e-den was abandoned "forty years ago"..........

presented without comment

"You always wanted to be an adventurer. Not like answering trivia, is it, boy? Here's what we're going to do..."

the way he dives off the couch when he thinks brock is looking at them through the spy camera, and he gets so babyboy when brock says he thinks doc cries himself to sleep missing the monarchs

i love their little mo-ped

this episode was also like the one time triana seems to possibly Like-like Dean back, I wonder if that was a possible direction after this episode but just never made it into any final script so they ended up scrapping it and sending her to magic school

this mustve been really strange for Z, i wonder i maybe this was a small turning point for him

i dont think we ever get the boys interacting with more than one teenager after this ever again...... this was SO FUNNY. dermott calling brock "your dad's lover" and triana calling him a poser and a dork and "so Dave Matthews" to which Dermott primps his hair AGAIN. And Hank and Dean are so cute. the way in "tears of a sea cow" dean and hank clearly want to go to public school.....i get WHY in the cartoon itself that didn't happen, but why didn't it happen :(

a) magenta-haired Triana animation error jumpscare b) love that one kid in the corner who is enjoying the break-out fight

the troops being visibly scared of brock like seriously need more about henchmen mythos around Brock Samson. also Hatred yelling to Doc on the megaphone "he's murdering my boy - this is monkey business!" honestly very cute

were-brock....bloodied clawed hands brock...very extra hairy bloody sharp brock......

rusty's so exasperated at hatred misreading a.m. as p.m. his eyebrows disappeard

like brock and rusty have history but rusty and hatred have chemistry

love the rusting on the statue detail here

i love this end scene

"that's my dad, thanks for the zombie self defense lessons mr. samson!"

"you should've seen that kid's dna he was a ticking time-bomb of cancer. i cleared that up" like bio-engineer rusty.......please i need a gattaca reference episode

[kivaember]

thoughts on endings...

FoR represents "destroying the unknown that you don't understand and thus are afraid of". The Institute, specifically Nagai and later Walter, didn't really understand the Coral for what it actually was, and only assumed Bad Things Would Happen when it reached a certain density. They caused the Fires, they destroyed Rubicon, and the Coral's only crime was to just Exist in the way it did: alien and difficult to understand.

LoR is "leaping into the unknown in blind faith and hoping for something better". Even after ousting the corpos and PCA from rubicon, there's no real assurance that that's everything done and dusted. The PCA can come back, the corpos can come back, whatever passes for Earth gov can come back, now that the Coral is confirmed to be there in profitable levels. You're taking a leap of faith that this is the right thing to do.

AIE is "there's a gas leak in your cockpit and you're tripping balls".