#this ESCAPED ME AND IDK HOW

[everlastiingiimmortals]

@apocryphis asked:

"spent too much time out in the chaos of people again?" aventurine leans on the back of the couch, just behind ratio, whose contrived expression and demeanour he has learnt to recognise all too well. too many people, too much light, too much noise - too much. poor man - he looks both exhausted and tormented by the lingering remnants of the world around him, even back to the peace and quiet of these quarters. very well then. with a little smile, aventurine slowly brings his hands over the doctor's eyes; blocking all and any light that would make it even through closed eyelids. a poor substitute to true darkness, but... "it'll be sunset soon. night time in less than an hour." the gambler says, voice made as quiet as if wrapped in velvet. "just be patient... and tell you what. i'll even shut up. but just this once." except it won't be just this once - and deep down, aventurine wonders if they don't both know it.

Inbox Call! | @apocryphis

The gambler is spared not even a glance this time, nor a grunt in affirmation. He knows, therefore there is no need to answer his question; it is merely rhetoric. Perhaps Ratio would have chided him for the 'small talk' if he'd been feeling up to it, but focusing on the firmness of the couch's cushions against his back is the more appealing option.

To put it colloquially, work sucked. Between meetings that his presence, unfortunately, was required for (pointlessly, he'd add, given that the entirety of the time was spent with imbeciles arguing in circles up until he'd had enough and silenced them all), classes with a new wave of students hopelessly unacclimated to his speed or expectations (by tomorrow alone, he expects his class attendance to drop by 70-80%), and several rounds of thesis review with his graduate students (the least agonizing part of his day, he'd say, and even welcomed amidst everything else but still draining nonetheless), by the time he'd entered their quarters he'd been just about ready to collapse on the couch. So he did.

He should really have set up a bath instead, truthfully. The feeling of the outside weighs on his skin, and the thought of it lingering on the couch now leaves him grimacing, but before he can change his mind and gather the will to open his eyes and start his usual routine, familiar hands slide over his eyes, sending him into darkness. Normally he'd cringe at Aventurine touching his face, but this time the coolness of his smooth leather gloves, followed by the hint of warmth from his hands peeking through the fabric, brings with it a strange sense of reprieve. Perhaps it is the gentle pressure against his browline and cheekbones, or perhaps it's the cologne he'd become acquainted with, and grown to associate with the Stoneheart -- subtler, far subtler, than when they'd first met -- or perhaps even his voice, soft as silk, that slowly causes the furrow between his brows to fade. Perhaps Aventurine would even feel him begin to relax under his hands. How strange, that the voice which used to spark so much apprehension and dread within him carries a small comfort instead, a reassurance that the shorter man's presence wouldn't simply up and fade away. A presence that, against all reason, now sits with him better than being alone.

Aventurine says that he would shut up for once -- a lie, for Aventurine is a creature of habit like himself and doesn't do things without reason, contrary to what he'd (successfully) have others believe -- and Ratio thinks that, for once, he wouldn't mind if he didn't (does Aventurine know this, too?).

...They'd been through a lot together, hadn't they?

Rather than respond, the doctor simply sighs, allows Aventurine to remain, and sinks into the couch as best he can with the impression of grime weighing against the back of his mind. Without necessarily counting, he lets the seconds pass until the need for clean clothes and fresh hair becomes too unbearable to ignore. There's a suspicion nagging at his mind that, perhaps, the gambler would have been content to stand there covering his eyes for the remaining forty-six minutes until nightfall, but that's neither good for his back nor Ratio's own sanity, so he reaches up to curl his fingers lightly over Aventurine's inner wrist -- not a tap nor a nudge, but enough of a request to release him as either. "Enough," he mumbles, intending to sit up the moment the gambler's hands are pulled away -- but upon blinking his eyes open he's caught by the gorgonizing gaze of the other peeking at him from where he's leaning over him from behind, hair curtaining the frames of his face, and finds himself (not for the first time since meeting Aventurine) unable to break away.

Several more seconds pass in this impromptu staring contest before he reaches up to gently tweak the Avgin's nose, using the distraction to free himself from both Aventurine and the couch. "I'm going to run a bath," he announces, and briskly turns on his heel to fetch a towel and robe. "Lest you find yourself, inexplicably, in some sort of emergency, do not interrupt me."

And don't look at me like that... it's dangerous.

...But for good measure, he'll reach out and ruffle Aventurine's hair as he strides past.

[moeblob]

Just two guys on a pier attempting to brood.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

okay unironically I love so much that porter is like this world SUCKS its BAD here and it HURTS you why do you care abt it!!! and literally every single bad kid is like ngl we just hate ur ass it does not matter what ur philosophy is

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Actual footage of Tony trying to talk to Kelsey this episode:

Now what I personally need is for her to despise him for a while then for them to have some big heart to heart and them to become best friends OKAY I'm very invested in what's become of their dynamic and I'm all here for "Punished" Tony the wet cat that he is I yield the rest of my time thank you.

[royalarchivist]

Jaiden: Cucurucho, you have a lot of power, right?

Cucurucho: ...I don't know. Maybe.

Roier: Ah... Yes, you know, don't act like a dumbass, you have it. You have it, man. Eh?

Jaiden: Is there a way for us to protect all the Eggs? Do you know? I don't want anything to happen to the Eggs that happened to Bobby.

Cucurucho: Ha ha ha

Roier: WHAT? [Smacks Cucurucho]

Jaiden: [Bops him] Headpats.

Cucurucho: Maybe.

Jaiden: [Continues to bop him] Headpats. C'mon, I can get it out of you! Headpats! Chin scratches! Belly rubs!

Roier: [Joins Jaiden in bopping Cucurucho, chuckling and laughs]

Jaiden: Yeah? He's comin' around!

[Jaiden and Roier both laugh]

[telephoney]

this is my greasefire academia.... or something

i title this "i hate you sky why are you so hard to draw for" by kazzy telephoney wazzy

[anirritant]

this is so stupid lol

bonus:

edit: here's an alternate scrapped scene that isn't canon to the au anymore but i still wanted to post hehe >:)

[sandwichsapphic]

did he. did he just slap bertie’s ass?

[pmpwbrrs]

I am NOT going to finish this even the thought of it makes me tired + its been so long.. i draw everything differently now + oh my fucking goooododddddddddDDDD + lyrics are not on point + i would rather eat a sock than continue working on this 😢

So I'll just chomp it all up into gifs and plomp it all here and finally close this coffin

The point was that Pebbles is just reliving main moments of his life. Everything flashes before his eyes, but distorted and strange and not all the way through, because the rot has eaten out of him almost everything that was responsible for his memories. He can't even remember the faces and names of his loved ones. But even so, shame and guilt and pain still suffocate him.

[macfrog]

hellooo. i try to keep my blog free from this kind of discussion for a multitude of reasons, but i am quickly finding myself unable to hold my tongue and recently, this has become impossible to ignore.

i am fully aware as a writer that i will unavoidably create characters, situations, and plots that not every reader will agree with or like all of the time. i love this part of it! i love to hear what you think, who you're vibing with, what you hope or even fear might happen. so long as we're respectful about it, open conversation (kindness and constructive criticism!) is one of my favorite parts of reading and writing.

but, please, let me make one thing very, very clear:

if your reaction to a decision that any of my characters make, is to comment telling me that you want to physically assault them over it - remove yourself from my blog. exit the fic, unfollow me, block me if you think it'll stop you from commenting something so repulsive and downright triggering.

i've deleted i think seven comments so far across both tumblr and ao3 which, at best, were plain rude, and at worst, were pretty fucking triggering to read. these comments were all, incidentally, directed at only the women in the fics. zero of my male characters have ever been attacked with such vitriol and hostility. i'm not cool with that. do not come on my blog with that attitude.

i have no problem with anyone disagreeing with something in my fic, but please remember that things like physical violence are not jokes, they're not quirky reactions to silly twists in stories, and they're not fucking welcome on my blog.

[watchyourbuck]

hey~ no10 from the prompt list, if you feel like it~ 💛

Eddie knew Buck like the back of his hand.

No, that was an understatement. He knew him like his own heartbeat.

Every single look, or stance, or smile. Every single thought. Buck could bend over backwards trying to hide something from him, but he could only ever do it unsuccessfully. Eddie knew Buck. The real Buck.

So, truly, it shouldn’t have been such a shock.

“Who is he?”

Buck seemed taken aback, momentarily stunned by three simple words. “E-excuse me?”

“The guy,” Eddie continued, his body on automatic and his thoughts far. “The one leaving hickeys on your neck. Who is he?”

The indifference of it all made the firehouse cold, sending a chill up and down Buck’s spine. His eyes turned to Eddie, who kept stacking supplies.

It’s not that he didn’t have an answer. A name, more accurately. But still, how did he know?

Silence invaded their space, like a drama scene from a movie where the backgrounds blurs. It was uncomfortable, a hollow little piece of dialogue he wasn’t aware he was assigned.

It must’ve been too long. Eddie’s arms went down, the pile of bandages forgotten, just mere inches away from his face. “Who is he, Buck?”

“No one,” he replied, much more centered this time.

The change in tone made Eddie purse his lips, suddenly aware of the fact that he was being pushed off. Buck didn’t wanna tell him.

He nodded, a minor scoff creeping up his throat. His mouth bent downwards. “No one you wanna tell me about.”

The implication was broad, and pointy. Buck was dating, or he wasn’t. He was in love, or he wasn’t. The only safe haven was that he was fucking. Eddie would put his hands to the fire on that one.

Ironic, innit?

“Could be a she,” Buck said, avoiding his stare.

“No, it couldn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Because I’d mark you like that, too.

Eddie sighed, running his hands through his hair. The rest of the firehouse was running smoothly, completely oblivious to them, or their words. How could anyone not notice Eddie’s heart bleeding into its own?

“Forget it,” he mumbled, short of biting his tongue. There was a moment in time where the beggar had to stop begging; where the needy had to stop needing. It was time. Time to let him go.

Buck’s reached for Eddie’s shoulder, stopping him in place. He added no pressure, so if the man wanted to bail, he could. “You don’t get to do that, Eddie.”

This time, the scoff did come out. Angry and bitter, and all the bad feelings you’re supposed to swallow. “Do what, exactly?”

“Run away.”

“What?”

“He’s no one,” he said rashly, running his tongue over his front teeth. “He can be no one.”

It was tough to follow. Buck’s eyes gave away his feelings, but not the meaning of his words. Eddie frowned, taking a step closer. Buck’s hand fell to the side, brushing along the skin on Eddie’s wrist. “What do you mean?”

Buck blinked, his breathing heavy. It was now or never. He grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

Sharp. Fast. Telling.

“If you want me, he can be no one.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Please take this as my Fuck It Friday!

tagged by @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @fortheloveofbuddie @callmenewbie @eddiebabygirldiaz & @eowon thank you so much! College’s beating my ass rn but it’ll get to your works shortly!✨💗

tagging in return @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @malewifediaz @housewifebuck @bucksbirthmark @your-catfish-friend @butraura @cowboy-eddie @buckleyobsessed @disasterbuckdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @evanbegins @jamespearce9-1-1 @smilingbuckley & @wildlife4life 💗

[feralmoonlight]

Foooound you~

[myighlou]

she ?

[eifaen]

Charlie believes in you!!

[thevirgodoll]

sometimes, we have to have a day where we allow ourselves to do absolutely nothing because we are emotionally stuck. nothing seems right, and everything seems dreadfully mundane. you feel like you’re the only person on the planet (while also feeling like the world is spinning without you).

sometimes, distracting ourselves 24/7 with productivity stops us from realizing what we need. i hate that we have become a society where everything we do has to be commodified.

why can’t we be okay just doing “nothing” tasks? you don’t always have to be pursuing something. what happened to taking a few mins out to do that thing that feels like “nothing” but makes you happy? like what’s wrong with playing sims or taking a nap? what’s wrong with accepting that some days just don’t work and there’s nothing wrong with accepting that???

like…burnout is so real. ppl tell us to stay inspired and ~keep going~ but you have to have the energy and the presence to do so. like in all of us the spark is there, but we don’t have the capacity to nurse it.

better to let that fire burn organically (and light it again when you have time and energy…) as often as you can than to rush every second and not even know you’re at the end of the wick.

[quesadilla-day]

hey, wait a minute / whenever you dream, am i in it?

giving the phrase "dream-girl" a whole new meaning with this one ☝️