#having my day tm

[paintedcrows]

Assorted Gravity Falls doodles!

[merlins-strawberriesandroses]

POV you’ve informed the Queen and the Court’s Sorcerer of something and they very clearly know something that they’re not letting on

[buddie-buddie]

Buck wakes with a strangled gasp, visions of the scenes he’d just seen in his fitful sleep still vivid and chilling as they flash behind his tear-filled eyes. 

His breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps as he blinks his way into consciousness and tries to shake off the nightmare that still has its claws sunk deep into his racing heart.

“Shh.” There’s a warm, familiar voice in his ear, thick and heavy with sleep. Everything settles. Buck’s breath comes a little easier, the rapid rise and fall of his chest evening out as he registers the warm, grounding weight of Tommy’s arms around him.  

When he was a kid, his nightmares looked a little different. Instead of 100-foot waves and snipers in broad daylight, he used to see monsters and ghosts. When he was older, he had a recurring nightmare of a man who looked a lot like Doug dragging his sister away kicking and screaming. He used to slip out of his bed and shuffle down the carpeted hallway to Maddie’s room, where she’d wake up to the creak of the door and the triangle of light bleeding into the dark room and say, “Evan? What is it?” 

He’d sit on the side of her bed and she’d take his hand in hers and ask him what he wanted to dream of instead. He’d say riding our bikes or the ice cream truck or building sand castles at the beach and Maddie would fold his still-shaky fingers down to lock the good dream in and she’d ruffle his hair and send him back to bed feeling lighter and safer and loved. 

It’s different now, but somehow still the same. 

He still drifts back to sleep feeling calm and safe and grounded. Only instead of Maddie tucking good dreams into the palm of his clammy hand, he has Tommy pressing kisses into his hair and whispering promises against the shell of his ear. It’s different, but it’s good. 

It’s so fucking good.

It’s good even now, as Buck’s breath catches on a shaky inhale, a tiny whimper slipping past his lips.

Even if he tried, he couldn’t find the words to explain the sick and twisted things he just saw in his dreams, nor could he get them out past the lump in his throat. But he doesn’t try and Tommy doesn't expect him to, doesn’t ask him to relive the worst moments of his life for the second time in one night. Buck’s already made the introductions between Tommy and the ghosts still so intent on haunting him.

Tommy knows that on the nights they come back around, Buck would rather be held. He would rather be reminded that he’s here and he’s alive and that it all didn’t end on the pier that day, beneath the ladder truck that night. That his heart started to beat again in the eighteenth second of the third minute, that he came back. And that he’s not alone. 

Tommy shushes him again, warm and reassuring. “S’okay, baby.” 

His arms tighten around Buck’s waist, pulling him back against his chest with a sleepy, contented hum. He mumbles something into the side of Buck’s neck that Buck can’t quite make out, yet understands perfectly when followed by the gentle, almost reverent press of Tommy’s lips to the side of his jaw. 

Hot tears prick at the backs of Buck’s eyes, and he’s not sure if they’re a product of the nightmare or the fact that, even in his sleep, Tommy shows up for him. 

Tommy always shows up for him. Physically, sure– Buck will never forget the sight of him all but tearing through the hospital doors, sooty and sweaty and smiling, despite the bone-deep ache that comes from sixteen hours on the scene of a fire. But emotionally, too. 

He’s levity when Buck needs it and sincerity when he doesn’t. He’s generous with his affection and even more so with his praise. He’s a steady, grounding force, an anchor in the sand when Buck starts to feel unmoored, when the waves get too high and it all gets to be just a bit too much. He’s patient and charming and kind and he’s such a nerd. And he’s aware and attentive in ways that still make Buck’s heart swell and his chest ache. 

It’s like he has a sixth sense, how he’s so tuned into Buck, how he always seems to know what it is Buck wants, what it is Buck needs. He knows just what to say, just what to do. Even now, half asleep. Tommy shows up for him. Always. In all ways. And Buck could cry about it. 

No, scratch that. 

Buck will cry about it. He tries blinking the tears back, but it’s no use. They’re heavy and hot as they roll down his cheeks. Tommy’s voice is still deep and gravelly, thick with sleep as he holds Buck close and murmurs, “I got you.”

He hasn’t said it yet, but Buck knows. He knows. He feels it deep in the marrow of his bones and in the warmest corners of his soul. He hasn’t said it yet, but he will. 

Buck can hear it in the silence that settles over them just before they drift off to sleep, tangled up in each other’s arms. He can feel it in the moments between slow, steady heartbeats as they move around Tommy’s tiny kitchen, cooking breakfast and swapping coffee-laced kisses and stories from their shifts. He can see it in the warmth of Tommy’s smile and the fondness in his eyes any time he walks into a room. He can feel it in the reverence with which Tommy touches him, the way he says his name like a prayer and a promise all at once. 

Which is why, just as much as he knows that he loves Tommy, Buck knows that when he does say it, Tommy will say it back. 

also on ao3

[ratbugs]

kinda hard to see because it’s curling bad but,

I’m really really loving this lovely stitch i learned

but for the life of me i cannot find the tutorial i learned it from

this is a very similar stitch but not exactly the same, if i can find the actual one i used i will add it here later

[freaky-wasatch-range]

"mormonism is american exceptionalism" has gotta be my least favorite anti-mormon take out there like you could talk about literally anything and THAT'S what you're going with????????? like you can talk about our weird relationship with manifest destiny and colonisation (extremely valid talking points!!!!!!) but to act like some kind of specific allegiance to the united states as an institution is inherent to our doctrine is so..... silence......

[jadecantcreate]

in the whitchlite carinval. straight up “caking it.” and by “it”, haha, well. lets justr say. My chad

(some gideon exploration & little doodles)

[veinsfullofstars]

Daroach: *slaps roof of DMK* This bad boy can fit so much salt in- *is soundly punted into the sun by DMK*

(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of Daroach and Dark Meta Knight having a snack break and being silly, based off of this incorrect quote. Transcript below the cut. END ID.)

I told myself this would just be a quick sketch. Y'know. Like a liar. Anyway, thank you for the inspo, @incorrect-star-allies! (I hope you don't mind that I took some liberties with the quote. ^^' I can never resist adding some extra characterization, haha.)

Started 03/14/24, finished 03/15/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24.

---

Transcript:

Panel 1

*DMK sits on the ground in his cape and armor, his mask tilted up to the top of his head as he prepares to take a bite out of a foil-wrapped burrito, one eye opened to glance towards our left. Daroach - holding up a container of strawberries in his paws - enters from our left and plops down beside the knight (SFX: POF).*

Daroach: Hey, sunshine! Whatcha eatin'? (Looks tasty!)

Panel 2

*DMK tilts his mask down as he chews, the burrito now turned to show a single bite taken out of it. Daroach turns his head to look slightly over the knight's shoulder, leaning heavily on one paw and idly digging into the container of strawberries set between his feet with the other.*

DMK: Eh, you wouldn't like it. It's really salty.

Panel 3

*Daroach turns back to lift a strawberry towards his open mouth, smiling smugly with his eyes shut and brows high.*

Daroach: Heh, y'sure about that? After all, I like you, don't I?

*DMK turns to squint at the thief through the visor of his mask, red lines of irritation shooting off from him in little zigzags.*

[niuxita21]

No one:

Absolutely no one:

Meiji: Why would I sit on a chair/the couch when my girlfriend's lap is literally RIGHT THERE

[noel-levine-fan]

wait wait wait i cant believe i forgot to post this

this is a call to to all people who are both fans of HC and WH, if you are one of them i fucking love you

[patolemus]

Stiles sits in the front row at the funeral.

He’s next to Mellisa, who hasn’t been able to stop crying since she got the news. Stiles’ dad had organized the whole thing, talking with the funerary home and picking up the coffin and the arrangements. He’d only asked Melissa what she wanted on the headstone.

Raphael had showed up the day after. For the first time in his life, he’d looked a mess, hair everywhere and clothes wrinkled as he stormed into the house asking what had happened to his son, tears already gathering in his eyes before he even got a look at Melissa’s face. Stiles hadn’t made fun of him. Stiles hadn’t said anything at all. Raphael sits on Melissa’s other side now, and she grips his hand tight enough it turns white. He hasn’t been back for five years.

God, Scott hadn’t seen his had for five years, and now he’s dead. Scott’s dead.

Stiles thinks it still hasn’t sunk in. He’s in the middle of his best friend’s funeral - it’s closed casket because his body was so mangled up that the EMPs could barely recognize him. Stiles had heard his dad on the phone with one of his deputies talking about it, before he’d realized just whose body they were talking about - and it still hasn’t clicked that Scott won’t be coming out of his casket, that this isn’t some kind of sick practical joke for getting him out of bed the night before school started.

Stiles is not crying. He hasn’t cried once since hearing the news. His dad is crying, sitting on his other side. Scott’s like a second son to him.

Was. Scott was like a second son to him. Was because he’s gone now. Because he’s dead.

Scott’s dead.

His best friend since preschool is dead. His brother is dead. The kindest, most caring person in the world is dead. Stiles goaded him into going to the preserve to look for half a dead body - and God, he’s such an asshole. A dead body? What was he even thinking? - and now Scott doesn’t even get to show his face at his own funeral because whatever killed him barely left any of him to bury.

If only he’d stayed. If only he’d told his dad Scott was with him that night instead of leaving him there. But no, Stiles hadn’t wanted Scott to get grounded because he dragged him out of bed, so he’d kept quiet. Even when he’d seen the pair of red eyes and that— that thing in the corner of his eye. Stiles hadn’t said anything. He thought they’d laugh about it at lunch the next day.

Now Scott’s dead.

Scott is dead.

And Stiles knows exactly what did it.

(He’s going to fucking kill it.)

[sssaintyboy]

Craving for more Postal art from u... ur style is sooo cool

sorry for responding late but thansk anon :DDDDD

drew a little p1 n p3 for u

[cipherr]

[synthwayve]

I’m throwing him onto tumblr. Sorry to everyone in the server who might see him twice.

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[jewishregulus]

parents jegulus……pleaseeeeee

i have the very strong belief that regulus would be the lenient parent out of fear of recreating his personal home environment . he would hate yelling and saying no and so james , who feels comfortable doing this bc he never viewed it as a threat to his personal safety growing up, steps in most of the time! however james was spoiled as a kid so unfortunately this baby is the most spoiled toddler alive . they are the types of parents to be in the principals office and be like my son would never steal his friends crackers ….. he’s an angel……… . first time their kid gets suspended for fighting at school james takes them out for ice cream to celebrate the win . and ice cream to help heal the loss . literally the most unserious parents ever . multilingual af household (massive mixing of hindi marathi english yiddish french) ….. also these babies are PRODIGIES . they are raising wizarding world young sheldon . literature analysis is just casual dinner conversation . chaotic but ultimately they love their kids and their kids would love them very very much …….. side note i think regulus would be the biggest girl dad in history ….. he would braid his little girls hair!!!!!! have little tea parties with her !!!!!!! let her paint his nails and do his makeup!!!!! i see the vision very very very clearly

but as a whole they are the type of family who goes on morning walks and always has a breakfast together and has weekend trips all the time and is always throwing parties and throws the coolest birthday parties and also plans like the craziest sleepovers . regulus black runs the PTA like the navy.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Sorry if this might be a rude question but why don’t you just make a seperate account for your nsfw fics?

not rude, it's a valid question! tbh it's a combination of a couple reasons.

i started posting anonymous dead dove batcest fics long before i had the balls to make a tumblr. at first i was content to just leave them unassociated with each other because i didn't really care about them being tied to me. i made this blog to actually show solidarity to my partner who wanted to make a sideblog for Sandman comic stuff so we could cheerlead each other and be brave together, since i've wanted to make a batcest sideblog but i've been nervous about actually having to get it going. (mal ik you're reading this go be brave and actually make your blog so i can cheerlead you damnit-) only did it dawn on me then that i should probably mention the fics i've written on the blog after like, three of them were posted anonymously. and it would've annoyed me to have half of them anonymous and half of them not, because notifications for them would've gone in different places. i could go back and take my fics off anon if i wanted to, but i can't switch the account they're on without taking them down entirely and that'd fuck over people who have them bookmarked already.

which, ties into my second reason, if i made an entire second ao3 account it'd be harder for me to see notifications, reply to stuff, and post things for both accounts because i'd have to constantly switch. and honestly i'd be terrified of accidentally posting on the wrong one on a brain fog day. posting fics is always the most tedious part of writing them for me lol. it's easier for me to stay logged into one account and have all of my stuff in one place for me and just use the anonymous collection when i feel like it. if ao3 pseuds worked like tumblr blogs, where you can't see all my side blogs but i can, i would've used pseuds, but since you can see all pseuds on an ao3, i felt it was a moot point.

and the last reason is i just feel more comfortable being anonymous on ao3 because of the rise in anti culture. on tumblr it's very easy for me to just filter that out and find the people i want to follow and block the people i don't. i don't mind getting hate, on tumblr or on ao3. but i think, for whatever reason you want to blame it on, there's been a massive boom of antis on ao3 who are very entitled about how they read on ao3. i tag extensively, but i just feel safer from getting targeted attacks if everything i write on ao3 isn't attached to one profile. if people like a fic i wrote, want to find more i always link my tumblr in the notes, but if an anti wants to get huffy with me, they can't easily track down my other things. they definitely could if they wanted to, but being anonymous on ao3 just makes me feel more secluded, in a weird way. it's like saying "if you want you can come find me but on here i'm just a weird faceless guy throwing stuff in the void". i've used ao3's anon feature a lot, actually, i used to be a hydra trash party dumpster kid back when that was in it's prime.

i also used to be vaguely popular on a different tumblr blog and my main ao3 and while i think it'd definitely be cool if i got a decent chunk of followers on this blog too, i don't really miss having fanfiction do so well i got targetted hate on all of my fics from the same people, i had my fics stolen, etc. it was really exhausting for me. i have 120+ works on ao3, not counting what's anonymous, and that level of exposure tires me, even when i use my main ao3 to post things that aren't trashy. it's just a weird feeling knowing so many people are subscribed to you on ao3 and what if you post something they won't like because you jumped fandoms again, or you're posting something niche, or you don't think it fills enough fandom tropes to be well-liked. i used to obsessively think like that, and it made me not write the things i wanted to because i cared about numbers. and i don't want to slide back into that hole. writing on anonymous is mostly to remind myself i wrote this for me, and if other people like it, they can come find me, but i don't have to perform like that anymore. if i get a really weird fucked up idea, i can write the really weird fucked up idea. at the end of the day, just makes me more comfortable! but i get it's a super confusing set up from an outsider perspective so, i really don't mind the question, thank you for asking!!