#and I hope the- GUNSHOTS

[martitheevans]

I am perfectly fine with being that one blog you randomly followed for some reason and just get a load of stuff that has nothing to do with what you followed me for on your dash

[ash-and-starlight]

taking the crumbs of venetian agna qel’a chewing biting gnashing on them until there aren’t even bones left and then spitting out. carnevale northern water tribe style

[3584-tropical-fish]

Not that anyone asked but looking at a.) the fact that Carpenter says that it’s clay being torn from the riverbank by the floodwaters of the White Gull and b.) The Hjulström Curve:

We can determine that the flow velocity of the White Gull River in TSV45 was approximately 150-300 cm/s.

What does this mean? Absolutely nothing, I’m going to be so honest. I just find this amusing

[dietbridgetjones]

dictionary definition of down bad

[lifemod17]

I don't think I've seen this here yet? (Or I just wasn't paying enough attention) BUT!!!!

DRUMSTICK TWIRL DURING 'Like That'!!!

Source: my dearly beloved G @darkliingg on Twitter

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

finally colored that Eddie scribble <3 rough day p.2!

[shovson]

rules of strategy seb | for @racingliners

[council-of-beetroot]

bruh get israeli miku off that damn list

1. All Mikus of the world means all Mikus, even the countries you don't like

2. No one is their government, no one is defined by the choices of their government. Azeri Miku isn't Əliyev, Turkmen Miku isn't Berdimuhamedow, Hungarian Miku isn't Orban, Belarusian Miku isn't Łukaszenka, Russian Miku isn't Putin etc etc I could go on.

3. Getting mad at someone's list of Mikus isn't helping your cause or anyone. People are suffering on this planet, instead of getting mad at a trend focused on bringing people together and just enjoying Hatsune Miku, go and help someone, make an actual difference.

4. I am Jewish. I am aware that you most likely accept me only because I happened to be born outside of eretz yisrael. The soil underneath the feet of my mother when she gave birth to me is as meaningless to me as that conditional acceptance.

5. Make your own damn list

[valyrfia]

the new ferrari car looks good like i KNOW that’s my oversteer monster

[juxtp0se]

just moved to a new state and started a new job and am hoping to make a good new first impression and then a teenage coworker told me i look like i listen to lemon demon as well as draw and write

[differenteagletragedy]

I bet Baxter is like an anxious dog on the fourth of July because fireworks always remind him of you. He's just sitting in his apartment with the curtains shut shaking.

[nectorbruise]

Hi I just went crazy and drew this for the past two hours

I started with lineless because whenever I use the fill liqufy tool I lose my mind. This did not disappoint. So Roman Sanders as the hanged man tarot card

[doodles-in-sand]

2b shidou and cheers. let the man be silly :3

I REMMEBERED I COULD COLOUR THE LINES

anyways finally! the man can be silly!

[doctordiscord123]

Hunted

The Author is hunted, and he finds he doesn't enjoy the experience nearly as much from the other side.

Inspired by @thomothysdoodles and this drawing Thomothy did for Whumptober <3

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

+++++

The Author was running.

He didn’t have a pen. He didn’t have a notebook. All he had was a hunting knife that he’d been meaning to get around to sharpening. It was dull, and old, and hardly useful in a fight. And he was running.

He didn’t know what happened, or what was going on. One moment, he was at his desk, typing away on his typewriter, and the next, there was a gunshot. His favorite pen had exploded next to him, all over his notebook, sheared in half by the bullet lodged in the thick wood of his desk. The Author had bolted to his feet with a wordless shout, and then there was another shot, piercing the meat of his shoulder, and the Author had grabbed the first weapon within reach and ran.

There was a stitch burning in his side, his shoulder throbbed, but the Author just kept running. He dashed through the trees he knew like the back of his hand, scrambling to think of a hiding spot. Most proper ones he’d gotten rid of through the years to prevent characters from hiding, dammit, karma was a son of a bitch –

The stitch in his side grew too painful, and the Author stumbled, falling to the forest floor. His nose cracked off a small rock, and he cried out, just laying there for a moment, dazed, panting. A gunshot fired, dirt spraying next to his arm, and the Author yelped, scrambling back to his feet and bolting once again.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[insertsomthinawesome]

Oh Wendy, you’ve gone and grown up.

don’t you know?

Neverland has no place for adults.

[lonelychicago]

16. someone's pulling a gun and you're jumping in the middle of it

If it sparks joy ☺️❤️

so i was in an angsty mood, hope you like it <3

They weren't at a call, they weren't supposed to face danger that day.

It's all Buck can think about as he stares down the barrel of a gun.

It's their day off and Buck had plans, alright? This was supposed to be the perfect day.

The perfect first date.

The restaurant is really fancy, with the most expensive wine that Buck has ever seen and all the tables looked like straight out of a historical movie or some shit like that. The menu is full of weird names, half of which Buck can't even pronounce.

But it's his first date with Eddie and he wants it to be just perfect. A night neither of them would ever forget.

He wants to show Eddie he made the right choice when he gave Buck a chance.

There's classic music playing in the background, the sound of piano and violins floating through the air and making Buck relax in his seat.

And then— there's a loud crash, one of the windows at the front of the restaurant breaking and pieces of glass flying everywhere.

For a second, Buck doesn't know what's going on. For a second he's just confused.

And then—

"Nobody move! I said nobody fucking move! A man in a mask is carrying a gun. His movements are erratic and fast, almost maniac.

Buck's heart clenches inside his heart.

Eddie makes a sound and then he's standing up. Because of course he is, Buck thinks— remembers the way Eddie didn't even flinch that time they were taken hostages by the prison guy.

"Eddie." He mutters, as low as he can as to not catch any unwanted attention.

It doesn't work.

"I said nobody fucking move!" The man yells and Buck— Buck watches as the gun is pointed towards Eddie.

The sense of deja vu pooling in his stomach is sickening and he wants to throw up.

No.

Not again.

Buck moves before he can think twice about it, jumping over the table and placing his body in front of Eddie's, like some kind of human armor.

There's a loud gunshot, but the choked desperate sound that Eddie makes on the back of his throat might be even louder.

Buck feels himself falling to the ground and then Eddie's face is above his.

"Evan! What did you do? What have you—" Eddie is frantic, his hands shaking and hovering above Buck's body.

He frowns.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Buck asks.

Was Eddie shot?

Please God, not again. Buck can't go through that again.

"W-what?" Eddie laughs, but it's sharp and bitter and there's not a trace of humor in it. It's hysterical if anything. "No, I wasn't shot. You got in the way of the bullet, you idiot." He choked out and he's— He's crying.

Eddie never cries.

The last time Eddie cried he was broken and on the floor, hugging a baseball bat.

That was two years ago.

"E-eddie?"

And oh.

Oh

Eddie presses down on his abdomen and Buck feels it.

"Shh, it's okay, baby. Just— Don't talk. Don't— Hold on for me." Eddie says, his voice trembling and his tears falling down his cheeks and into Buck's face.

Buck mouths something with trembling lips but no sound comes out— just a garbled noise.

Buck can taste the blood. His own blood.

Well, that's not good.

There's a lot of background noise, screams and orders being yelled but none of that matters.

If Buck dies right there, he'll do it as he stares at Eddie.

"Hold on for me, baby. Please. Please." Eddie is begging above him and Buck wants to listen to him.

But he's so tired.

A weak hand comes up and reaches for Eddie, his thumb caressing that beauty mark under his eye that Buck loves so much.

He leaves a trace of blood in its wake and that's—

He tainted Eddie.

Buck wants to apologize but he can't speak. He can't breathe.

"You have to stay awake, baby, okay?" Eddie is saying above him. "You have to hold on for me. So then you can take me on another first date— no offense but this one really fucking sucked." Eddie lets out a wet chuckle. "So we won't count this one. We'll go on another one and that one will be our first, alright? And then you'll have to take me on a second one. And a third one." Eddie says and Buck thinks that sounds like a good plan.

He likes the way Eddie thinks.

"Stay awake, Buck! Don't close your eyes." Eddie pats his cheeks a couple times and Buck's eyes flutter but he fights against uncociousness.

"W-what else?" He asks weakly, his words slurring and dragging and he's not sure if Eddie understood any of that.

But of course he did.

"W-what else?" Eddie's voice breaks but he has this small smile etched ln his face, fond and quiet and just a little sad at the edges. "Well, we'll have to let the team know about us... eventually. They all will be happy, of course. Hen will order a cake and they'll throw a ridiculous party but it'll be fun." Eddie's hand keep pressing against Buck's wound but he can barely feel it.

It doesn't really hurt.

That's really bad, isn't it?

"And then you'll move in. In a couple of months." Eddie keeps talking. "Is it too soon to talk about that? I don't think it is. We've known each other for years and this— this was inevitable, right? At least for me." Eddie's lower lip trembles. "Since the moment you shook my hand in the back of an ambulance and promised to have my back? It was a fone deal for me. I knew I would love you. I knew you would ruin me for anyone else."

Buck smiles, or at least he tries to. He's not sure if he pulls it off.

"Ditto." He rasps out, low and weak but he thinks Eddie hears it anyway by the way his eyes soften.

And then the darkness wins and Buck closes his eyes.

-

He wakes up in the back of an ambulance with his hand in between Eddie's. There's paramedics working around him but Buck doesn't care.

He keeps his eyes on Eddie.

His hair is a mess and his brown warm eyes are puffy and red around the edges. His clothes are stained red with blood and there's a trace of it on his cheek.

He looks—

Awful, Buck thinks. Eddie's skin is pale and ashen and the fluorescent lights of the ambulance aren't doing him any favors either.

And yet— it's the most beautiful thing that Buck has ever seen.

"Hey." He chokes out, the oxygen mask resting uncomfortably against his face and making forming words a little difficult.

Eddie grins, relieved and so soft, tender and adoring. "Hey."