#idk i just roll

[frownyalfred]

thinking about a Damian who was raised his entire life hearing how much he looks like his Father, how he's the blood son, how he's better than any other child Bruce Wayne has taken in, starting to buy into it like a kid does, only to hit puberty and turn out looking like 80% Talia.

[niinnyu]

Bets bets

[thisisyouridol]

to queue my homestuck art or to not queue my homestuck art

[stealingyourbones]

Lois gets an email from a woman by the name of Madeline Fenton. She might have skipped past it to look at more important emails but the heading caught her eye: “Reasonable Proof LexCorp Stole FentonWorks Patent Technology”. The email states that the Fentons have reason to suspect LexCorp that they stole patents to their ghost portal blueprints and various ectotech patents by following a suspicion that their personal computers had been hacked (Maddie is NOT happy Jack placed a random USB from the sidewalk into his work computer and has frantically been trying to figure out what the owner of the USB might have stolen. Following the serial number of the USB, it leads to the purchase of it by a LexCorp employee). If not stopped they have suspicion that LexCorp will utilize ectotech as a new way to gain a new footing in the market, the creation of new weapons to stop kryptonians, and potential enslavement of Infinite Realm Citizens. Lois starts typing back a reply. She can sense a front page story from a mile away and this was definitely one of them. 

[800db-cloud]

i like to imagine spy’s old dark grey suit is actually his company mandated uniform :)

[bea-l-t]

If Aaron and Katelyn's love story was ever told from Katelyn's POV, I feel like it would follow so many YA romance tropes. Like the bad boy with an attitude problem who keeps pushing you away? It's because he has a tragic backstory and a strained relationship with his brother. He's occasionally extremely violent? Okay well he's also the sweetest and most caring boy in the world and like honestly he's just really misunderstood. You guys can see each other, but it needs to be a secret relationship. He's a jock, but like, he's not like other jocks. Also the mafia is involved somehow.

The biggest difference is that she never felt like she had to fix him (and he never had to fix her either) and for that I stan this couple so much.

[beckyblah]

That lady bit me and I think I was into it...

[asgardian--angels]

there's meta to be had about just how much of viktor's arc is about loneliness and the blatant visuals they use in his evolution about metamorphosis, butterflies, cocoons, in utero, etc, as he molts from a soft, vulnerable larva who keeps getting hurt in his bids for love and acceptance, into a hardened final form complete with an exoskeleton acting as both physical and emotional armor. a shield keeping his emotions in and the pain of loneliness and rejection out, until it's cracked and his humanity is forcefully exposed. like. sorry if it's just the entomologist in me but this was blatantly obvious the very first time i watched the show and I've been continually surprised that no one's really pointed this out. as a certified lonely person it struck such a deep cord with me, when he accepted his fate, his path ahead, to be one he'd have to walk alone, finally putting up that last seemingly impenetrable wall around his soft parts (but keeping the blanket, this signal that he never asked for this, and that he's not unreachable). So much of his s2 arc centered around not just his desire to right his wrongs and help the world, but to connect with others and not feel alone, both of which got twisted by the hexcore. His attempt to create a hivemind where no one would ever suffer loneliness or rejection or loss, and he would feel their souls with him as well (even though that was an illusion in the end, he truly believed it). The whole 'I now speak with all their voices' but he's just floating in an empty space. And for the consequence of the glorious evolution to be eternal solitude, it just drives home how that's the worst possible fate imaginable for Viktor.

[skywerse]

evil champion gilly concept

[effervescentwolf]

nothing impossible <- ao3 link

“Hey, Buck!” Eddie practices in the car as he enters LA. “Christopher’s finishing his school year so I’m—”

He gets stuck in standstill traffic. He’s gotten used to it, used to any obstacle really, driving around in Texas, kind of expects it. Before, he’d complain to Buck about every little inconvenience on the road until Buck wrestled the keys from his grip.

“If you wanted me to drive, you could’ve just asked,” Buck would say, fondness all over his face, and Eddie’s whole body would go warm.

There’s a crash up ahead so he sits there, windows down, breathes in the smell of this place. El Paso and LA smell similar in a lot of ways, but there’s a difference he can’t quite put his finger on. There’s also an ease to the way he sits here rather than there, a rigid line of tension that he can’t find anymore when he searches for it.

There’s a difference between traffic there, where it would build up inside him, where everything was building and building, and traffic here where he’s a puppet cut loose, where he can simply sit and breathe and think.

He thinks of Buck when the traffic starts moving again.

“Buck?” he imagines calling, if he used the spare key safe in his pocket, trying to figure out where Buck would be in the house when he gets there. He glances at the time, nearing 4 PM. Buck isn’t on a shift today, he reasons. He probably went to the gym in the morning, got groceries sometime after. He didn’t have anywhere to be for lunch today, and there was nothing special in his calendar. “I’m home,” Eddie says softly, trying to imagine saying it in about thirty minutes, which is how long it’ll take him to get home if his estimate is accurate.

“Missed me?” could be on the table when Buck opens the door, and Eddie will grin wide and hold his arms open for a hug he kind of desperately wants.

Or, “Is there enough for two?” because dinner might be on the stove, or in the oven, and Eddie will be able to smell it from outside the house. Buck will turn, wearing that blue apron of his, and his eyes will widen, mouth in a perfect o, and Eddie will laugh, then.

“He’s coming home,” Eddie might say first because he knows that’s on their mind. That would happen after a silent hug, after Buck takes one look at him and maybe cries as he pulls Eddie in. If Buck cries, Eddie will too, and he gets a little emotional just thinking about it, them crying together on the doorstep, holding each other, and then laughing together at how ridiculous it is.

The minutes whittle down to streets and it hits Eddie suddenly that he’s home. He’s not nervous to see Buck the way he was nervous to see his parents, wiping sweaty palms on his pants, smoothing down his hair in his rearview mirror, over and over.

No, here, he parks, walks easily up to his door, grinning already, and all the debate about what he’s going to do dissipates. He knocks on the door because Buck isn’t expecting him. He’s not sure how Buck believed Eddie’s fumble of a lie about going out today and not being able to call, but he did, though he texted him throughout the day anyway.

Eddie waits a minute. Taps his foot, turns with his arms folded and surveys the neighbor’s houses. Knocks again, and frowns this time when there’s no answer, and then he lets himself in.

It’s quiet inside. “Buck?” Eddie calls anyway, halfway through kicking off his shoes when he looks up and realizes it looks the same. Different, because it’s not his furniture, but things are where they were when he lived there. He’d suspected over FaceTime, but it feels like Buck’s been preserving a little of kernel of him, and all of a sudden it hits Eddie that he’s really home. That he belonged here, and belongs, that he’s about to see Buck, and he’s going to have his kid, and that he has it, everything he’d ever wanted.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, runs a hand over the couch as he passes, says quietly, “Can I crash here?” That’s what he’ll say first, a joke about the couch, or Buck taking over his house, when Buck gets home.

He makes his way to Christopher’s room, opens it a sliver, sees it’s empty, and then closes it, putting his forehead on the door. Buck kept him too in his own way. Kept both of them there while they were gone. He didn’t replace them.

He doesn’t bother knocking on what used to be his own bedroom door, just opens it and oh, there’s Buck.

He’s sprawled out on his back, one hand on his stomach, not even under the covers. He hasn’t shaved today, Eddie can tell, and he doesn’t really think when he comes forward and sits next to him. Over FaceTime, he couldn’t see as much as he can now. Couldn’t watch the way Buck’s chest rises and falls with every breath, the scratch on his knuckle he whined about yesterday. Eddie can see it now, a little white mark on Buck’s hand, and he thumbs over it absently, not sure why he has to touch it, only that he does.

There’s a breadth to Buck that a phone could never approximate. A realness. He’s right there, in his bed in Eddie’s room, all of him, down to his socked feet. Eddie feels oddly emotional over seeing his socks, and he’s not sure why, but he’s been feeling emotional at a bit of everything these days when it comes to coming home.

“I missed you,” Eddie says, and he’s glad those are the first words he says with intention in this house, even if Buck isn’t awake to hear them.

His hand is still resting over Buck’s. He doesn’t move for a long time, just watching Buck breathe, and breathing it all in, and then he goes off to shower.

Buck is still asleep when Eddie walks back in with wet hair, barefoot, wearing shorts and a t-shirt he scrounged from the closet. Droplets roll down the back of his neck to dampen the collar of the shirt, which feels good after the heat of outside. He’d forgotten how much he missed that particular brand of shampoo, and the way the light in his bathroom looked on him in the mirror. Even the squeaky faucet, the way the door stuck a little when Eddie pulled. It’s like discovering everything anew, and it’s also like he never left.

He rummages through the fridge, discovers leftovers, and piles up a plate that he takes back to the bedroom so he can sit next to Buck and eat, munching thoughtfully as he mentally rearranges the house.

“I was saving that,” Buck mumbles, voice rough with sleep, and Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Warn a guy, would you?” Eddie says, turning to look at him once he’s swallowed, heartbeat still a panicked pace in his chest, and then he thinks only, that’s not how it was supposed to go.

Buck yawns, blinking blearily at him, rubbing at his eyes. “Where’s—”

“Finishing the school year,” Eddie answers, easy, and then he doesn’t want to eat anymore. He just wants to look. He wants to look at Buck looking at him. “You can have the rest,” he offers, something squeezing at his chest.

Buck ignores it. “But he’s coming back?” he asks, earnest. Sincere. Eddie can't put into words how much it means that someone's right there with him.

Eddie nods, manages to put the plate on the bedside table, and then Buck is sitting up next to him and pulling him into a hug. “Oh, Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie breathes him in and holds him tight, and he thinks, I did good. I did good.

“Proud of me?” he mumbles, like he can’t feel it in the way Buck is squeezing him.

“You smell good,” Buck says instead, and there’s a little thrill that runs up Eddie’s spine at that. “Have you been back for a while?”

“An hour, maybe,” Eddie answers, face tucked into Buck’s shoulder. “I showered.”

“Mm,” Buck says, nosing at his ear, and Eddie’s stomach swoops like nothing else.

"Buck," he complains, words soft around the edges. He doesn't mean it, and he's reminded that Buck knows him better than anyone because he doesn't move an inch, rubbing Eddie's back comfortingly, and that’s where it all catches up to him.

"Yeah?" Buck says, smile all over his voice. Eddie can hear the rumble of his chest from here, and that wasn't captured on FaceTime either, and he can hear Buck breathing right next to his ear. “I didn’t know what I was going to say to you,” he confesses into the safety of Buck's shoulder. “I was practicing in the car.”

Buck doesn't say anything for a moment. “Anything you said would’ve been good,” he offers, like it's obvious, voice warm all the way through, and there’s something different about Buck’s warmth than the sun on his skin in El Paso, something that cuts the last string keeping him there, that tames something within Eddie’s chest that has been begging to be let out.

Eddie sniffles, just a little. "Not anything," he protests weakly.

Buck's next breath is a little shaky, and it takes Eddie a moment to realize he's crying too. "Anything," he repeats, sure of it, and Eddie forgets standing on another doorstep, practicing what to say, fumbling over the words and feeling small under his own failures. Here, he has a million things to say, none of them impossible, but he only needs to reach up and squeeze the back of Buck's neck for Buck to say, everything like home, "Eddie."

[cobaltfluff]

he is LEARNING... but he also gets an IQ debuff when pretty guys smile at him

[namelessprince]

destiny calls, but it doesnt look familiar anymore

[3twindragons]

[kijeu]

happiest birthday, christopher chan ♡ 1997.10.03

template credits: x x

[nautls11]

ye olde gilly doodle dump

(most of these are stuff that i made before i got tumblr but am still proud of, i miss gillion orz)

[dizzybizz]

gillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgillgill