#for at least 6 weeks

[guinevereslancelot]

just wrapped the first christmas present of the year ❤️

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 4: Deranged Bedfellows

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.5)

[arttsuka]

Same

[dykedvonte]

I think it says something that Jimmy absolutely destroyed the crew and ship in half the time Curly was captain. Like he couldn’t even get them past 2 full months before breaking down.

Like he really couldn’t be half the man he thought Curly was.

[mackthecheesy]

heres my take on "what if danny phantom met bruce wayne"

[as-you-think]

Hi there! It's been a minute since I've posted a selfie 💖

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 7: i miss my wife bonbon

[rillils]

🌸 pre-war stucky + discovery

Steve’s knife glides cleanly under the apple’s butter-yellow skin, the peel pooling over the plate in one long, looping ribbon. And Bucky watches, enraptured.

All his life, he’d thought that art was the kind of thing that occurred inside Steve’s sketchbooks; that it was about color, about shading and light, and the twists and pitfalls of anatomy that’ll make Steve cuss under his breath in frustration. He never once figured that art could be happening in their kitchen, at their table, in the naked heart-shape of an apple cupped in Steve’s palm.

But there’s something like grace in the work of Steve’s hands; a deliberate focus in his eyes as he cuts the apple in halves and then in quarters, and a drop of juice trickles slowly down the inside of his pale wrist, catching Bucky’s eye.

Steve always did have delicate wrists, Bucky considers – slender and agile like the rest of him, two columns of milky white shot with the green web of his veins.

The thought brushes against Bucky’s mind, soft as anything. That his fingers could curl around one of those wrists, and likely wrap all the way around it, sweet and whole like an embrace. It’d fit so perfectly, cradled in the palm of his hand. Then he could feel the jut of Steve’s wrist bone, and the quick flutter of Steve’s pulse under the pad of his thumb if he chose to stroke him there, over that silky smooth skin, and he’d have the measure of Steve’s heartbeat, stuttering secrets under his touch.

It’s–

Odd. He never. He never knew.

But it must be true. Something inside him knows it, something–

“... wan’ some?”

Bucky’s gaze follows the silver glint of the knife, his lips parting, entranced, while Steve cuts himself a slice of apple with effortless grace, and holds it against the flat of the blade to bring it to his mouth. His soft, rosy mouth. How does he know it would be soft? But he knows – it’s written in the flush-pink plumpness of Steve’s lip.

The tip of Steve’s tongue peeks out, a darker shade of pink, wet and glistening, and Steve slips the apple slice inside – the crisp flesh of it leaving a touch of moisture across his bottom lip. Steve catches it with a sweep of his tongue, lapping it off in one swift motion; and Bucky swallows, wide-eyed and eager, chasing the phantom taste of apple against the roof of his own mouth.

“Buck?”

Steve’s voice shakes him out of his reverie, and his gaze snaps up to find that Steve is looking right at him.

Steve is–

Steve’s eyes are blue. Bucky has always known that, in the same, absent-minded way as he knew that water is wet, that day follows night, that fire will burn you if you put your fingers to the flame. But today, suddenly,

Steve’s eyes are blue.

And Bucky stares back at him dumbly, breath locked in his throat for an endless moment, as he sees that piercing blue for the first time in his whole life, and is shaken to his core by the sight of it.

“Wuh– what?”

“I said,” Steve begins, hiding his chewing mouth with the back of his wrist, “you want some?”

He offers a piece of fruit to Bucky, a fat wedge of apple held in those long, nimble fingers of his. His fingertips are the same soft pink as his lips, Bucky notices. And he imagines, in a fevered flash, letting Steve feed him with that same hand, and brushing the seam of his own lips against those fingertips as he takes the first bite, and flicking the tip of his tongue out to lick the juice straight from Steve’s skin.

“Uh, um– yeah,” he stammers, reaching gingerly for the offered fruit. The glimpsing touch of Steve’s fingers against his feels every bit like electricity, a zing running up Bucky’s arm, half pleasure and half the terrifying thrill of the unknown. “Sure, thanks.”

Steve pauses to watch him curiously, jaw working on the last of his morsel, his pretty – pretty! – eyes filled with a fond sort of amusement as they rake over Bucky’s suddenly shy frame.

“What’s gotten into you today?”

Steve’s grin is a brilliant thing: sweet and playful, the bow of his mouth crooked up in one corner, more charming than Steve himself could ever guess – and that light sheen of apple sugariness, still shimmering full on his lips like a kiss.

And Bucky wonders, as he ducks his head and bites into his own apple slice, what else he has been missing all these years. How much more he has failed to see, though it was right there under his nose all along.

What lovely secrets lie in the narrow set of Steve’s shoulders, left bare in only his undershirt, here, at home, in the privacy of their little kitchen.

If Steve’s collarbones always looked just like this: carved out of stone by some tender hand, smooth like polished marble. Too holy to touch, and yet too tempting not to kiss with an unholy mouth.

He steals a glance at Steve’s face, and tries to mirror the shape of his grin as best as he can.

“You know me,” he shrugs, waving his hand about, “just got my head up in the clouds, is all.”

But when he takes his next bite, it’s the salt of Steve’s fingertips that he tastes, not the sweet tartness of the apple; and the wonder of it lingers for hours under his tongue, like a question just waiting to be asked.

[horsefigureoftheday]

Born to look at plastic horses, forced to write school assignments. Many such cases.

[stubz]

"Can't you cut it off?"

"No I can't cut it off Zyz because unlike you my leg can't grow back."

"Yeah Max is a mammal. We just have to wait till Friday and it'll be all better."

"It'll be longer than Friday Tarlax, it won't be completely better till after the tri-eclipse festival."

*chorus of what's, groans, and other disapproving children sounds*

"But that's...1..2..4..6...7 weeks!"

"I thought you said you weren't hurt that bad!"

"YOU ALREADY RESTED FOR A WEEK!!"

"Yes but it'll still take a while for me to be able to play with you guys again. Right now I'm only able to keep an eye on you kids and help Kim out with crafts and non-physical things."

"But when Pollix broke his arm he was all better in 2 weeks, and my uncle Fenrir broke his foot but he's all better after 10 days."

"Listen kids, humans take longer to heal than most other species. And until then I can't play with you or else my ankle will just get worse."

"But why can't-!"

"Please just one-"

"Maaxx-"

"Come on-!"

"ENOUGH!" having enough of the kids guilt and nag her injured co-worker on his first day back ran the the other human's patience dry.

"Max fractured, broke, his ankle and you want him to run on it? You want him to carry you all while just standing for too long hurts him? You want him to make his injury even worse so that he can play with you?"

complete silence

"After all Max has done for you kids and still you demand that he bends over backwards to entertain you...terrible behavior, I am disappointed in you, all of you."

"...Sorry Miss Kim."

"I'm not the one you kids should be apologizing to."

*chorus of small whispered apologies to Max*

"I forgive you, but like Kim I'm disappointed in you. Now everyone go get your snack."

.

..

"Kay what's eating you?"

"...I feel bad for yelling at the kids now."

"I know but you and I know that was necessary."

"Yeah but I still don't like it."

"Sorry for making you do that. I should've put my foot down and lectured them instead of you."

"Well...to be fair you couldn't without losing balance or wrecking your ankle even more."

"Ha. ha. very funny."

"MAX!!" screams dozen of children and younglings.

"Holy shit!"

"FuuuACK ...damnit my ankle..." his body forgot that even while scared he should not be jumping.

"We got you stuff to help you get better faster!" one by one the children handed the humans jars, wrapped up food, beverages, medicines, and many other things that helped one's health on their respective planet.

"Wow, this is so thoughtful kids. Thanks."

"And thanks to my uncle Fenrir I know how you can play with us but also catch up in case of emergencies."

"Oh really? Is it some kind of scooter--ho crap! THOR PUT ME DOWN!"

"Does it hurt?? Athea, Pollix, come on!"

"Waitwaitwaitwait!"

"There! Not only can you move faster, but also your taller and we get to train our stamina and endurance like any good warrior."

"Kim. Help. Me."

"Are you in pain?"

"...actually no...it's surprisingly comfortable."

"then what's wrong?"

"this is against protocol."

"Dude we have like zero protocol here when it comes to playtime."

"..."

"Your scared of heights?" they ask raising a brow.

"In my defense not many 6'3 men can be carried like this..."

"Well considering your only 2 feet higher now I say we call this your exposure therapy. Carry on kids, but don't run with him unless he says so."

"KIM! DON'T LEAVE ME! I WILL EXPOSURE THERAPY YOU TO SPIDERS IN YOUR SLEEP FOR THIS!!"

"No you won't! Your too nice plus to make things even the spider would have to be small and in a container."

[911bts]

On average, how much time does it take them to film the first half of a season? One/two months more or less?

No, it's a lot more than a couple months...

Normally they start filming in July and they end some time in December and take a small break for the holidays before picking back up some time in January. In the past, it normally takes most (if not all) of the months (July-December) to film the first half of the season.

CORRECTION: It's July-November that they're filming the first half of the season. I'm re-reading this and realized I misspoke. December they get started on the second half

[mabaris]

i refuse to believe that the events of inquisition happened in one year because i’m finally reading tevinter nights and it’s a WEEK’S journey through the mountains to get to skyhold. and that’s not even counting travel time for how long it takes to get from the frostbacks to anywhere else. at LEAST a fortnight’s travel, both ways, any time you want to go somewhere. and we’re making that trip dozens of times

[bitternace]

(06/06)

[ID: a digital bust drawing of zexion from kingdom hearts facing left. The background is transparent and the colors are flat. He is mostly expressionless as he looks downwards, mouth tense. His hair is shaggy and the back ends are pointed outwards. a green line follows the underside of his figure, from the chin, around the hood of his coat and the under the strands of the back of his hair. /End ID.]

[identitty-dickruption]

officially 2 weeks sober btw

[baeshijima]

if anyone asks

tell them ive ascended to heaven