#vitriol au
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corrosive-equilibrium · 7 months ago
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Concept art
Danny making the hardest decision at the end of Forgiveness vs Revenge arc versus Danny making the hardest decision in the beginning of Hope vs Hatred arc.
(Full design here)
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doodleswithangie · 1 month ago
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more from my au, in which stan and bill have a reluctant agreement to build the portal (x)
bonus thought: they always tie in their card games, because they both know when the other is cheating and when the other is letting them win
[Image description: Fanart of Bill Cipher and Stanley Pines from "Gravity Falls." Alt text is provided and copied below the cut. End ID]
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Image one: Stan wears his Mr. Mystery outfit in the Shack, complete with an eyepatch and magic 8-ball cane. Bill nudges him, saying, "Ooh, eyepatch? How flattering!" Stan snarks back, "Can it, cyclops."
Image two: Bill and Stan float in a mindscape similar to Ford's, except they're playing cards on folding chairs and drink Pitt Colas.
Image three: In front of the broken portal, Stan sits on a toolbox with Journal 1 and other documents scattered in front of him. Bill hovers over his shoulder.
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wat-zu · 3 months ago
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Dysfunctional family au— showdown aftermath, one week later
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friedrichnapier · 5 months ago
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Little (and big) magical horses on Multiverse MLP Therapy session!
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Silly MS sketch with AU MLP therapy gang!
I collected all characters that I know and that have a color reference, and as soon as new ones appear, I will add them to the canvas.
Princess of Gender Dysphoria - @beluvbug
Fluttershy doesn't want to be a pegasus - @ribbonzregretz
Princess of Weakness - @puppy-waves-art
The Super Duper Pony Pleaser/The Joker Card - @kandigored
Grounded - @lemoneychicken
Fallen Dashie - @zayn-darkshadow
Diamind in the Rough - @jaythebluegay
Viltriolic Mind - @generalconceptofacat
Celestial BurnOut - me
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lovesickeros · 5 months ago
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popping in randomly after almost an entire month just to talk non stop about the tsaritsa again everyone sit down.
specifically just thinking about the implications of tsaritsa's ideals originally being about love + the abandonment of those ideals to complete her goal of, presumably, destroying Celestia or whatever she's cooking up. to the point even her people don't love her and I probably don't even remember a time her ideals were of love. now it's all just ice and snow and cold.
which makes romantic fics w her even funnier because she's purposely removed this part of herself and suddenly reader walks into teyvat like they own the place (they do) and I can only imagine her reaction. angry, probably. because why you? what are you doing to her that's caused her hundreds of years of strict adherence to rejecting "love" both from others and to others to just. collapse. absolute shattering of her world and you probably don't even know it bc if nothing else she's good at hiding it. a lot of denial. tries to pick you apart and see what's makes you so different.
and oh she just hates it. she loathes it.
basically one sided enemies to lover trope because she can't stand you for a while but if you stick around she starts warming up to you and it makes it WORSE. so much worse. tries to distance herself but your just everywhere and it gets on her nerves because why does she love you? she isn't capable of love, not anymore. she thought she was.
g-d forbid one of the harbingers or PIERRO notices she'd never live it down. might even consider the implications of just killing you (she doesnt). worse if you know about it and act like a brat she will lose her damn mind
just the tsaritsa being an absolutely horrible mess internally.
#sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin impact sagau#self aware genshin impact#genshin cult au#genshin impact cult au#tsaritsa#i could also talk sbt furi here and how similar they r + how writing one of them influences my writing of the other#but anyway#ive been busy moving i havent had time to write unfortunately#but i do have time for tsaritsa! and furi. mwah#i just think its funny imagining tsaritsa trying to be polite snd cordial but ohh shes SEETHING. she hates you. she loves you.#she wants to kiss you snd kill you and devour you. a horrible mess of a woman who closed herself off snd suddenly she feels exposed#she hates it. wants to hate you but oh g-d you make her soft in the worst of ways. she'd destroy teyvat itself if you asked her to#shes like a cat you gotta work to earn her trust but oh lord when you do. velcroed to your side#she will say she despises you before kissing you so tenderly it makes you dizzy. between vitriol she brushes her knuckles against your cheek#longing and yearning so violently you will tear each other apart just to be closer.#is there anything so undoing as loving another so wholly it consumes you?#she swears she's indifferent but she pampers you and sends you extravagant gifts with no name attached yet it smells like her. you know.#oh to be in a horribly complicated relationship thats almost one sided enemies to lovers w the tsaritsa that consumes you both#like two stars wanting to be closer and yet..in doing so you undo each other when you inevitably collide. caught in an orbit that dooms both#this has been ur monthly tsaritsa ranting ur welcome and goodnight 🫡#when i say im crazy sbt the tsaritsa i am so serious. i AM her number 1 fan source me
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generalconceptofacat · 5 months ago
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Vitriolic Mind AU
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so remember that schizospec pinkie pie au i was talking about?
here's some art I made for it cuz i am pinkie pie's number one fan and also am pinkie pie literally she is me in every way.
I got inspired by the princess of gender dysphoria AU to do more art of my au so thank you @beluvbug for inspiring me to work on this AU further. I love your AU for Applejack and hope to see more
I'm basing this AU a lot on my personal experiences with being schizospec so pls be nice to me LOL
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alchemistc · 4 months ago
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goon | bucktommy | chapter five
check out the hockey glossary here (updated through chapter five)
Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
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read Chapter Five on ao3
Eddie pulls into the parking lot still grinning at the recollection of the first time he’d met Evan Buckley, and Tommy can’t help but smile back, all the air in his lungs spent on the breathless laughter he’d expelled on the drive over.
“He actually thought I was there to replace him, or something,” Eddie says, fondly, amusement and affection seeping into his voice, and something clicks, just then. Tommy doesn’t have time to think about it, though, because half a second later Ravi is banging on the passenger window, looking harried.
Tommy rolls it down with one eyebrow raised.
“Closed practice,” Ravi says, with a kind of warning tilt to his expression, and Eddie’s smile evaporates in the drivers seat.
“Shit,” Eddie says, and Ravi nods emphatically.
Tommy’s been here going on three months, and this is the first time he’s even heard a whisper about closed practice. Sure, there are days where fans don’t fill the stands, and days when the media doesn’t seem inclined to make an appearance because there isn’t any story worth telling, but as far as he knows, Bobby Nash hasn’t held a closed practice in at least a few years. Back when he was brand new and fighting an uphill battle for a point or two a week, yeah, he’d definitely heard a few of those stories from guys like McKinley and even a few of the guys who’d been traded, in the following few years, to teams Tommy played for.
But Tommy can’t think of a reason why Nash would want to do that now.
Gerrard had held them for the opportunity to pick on whoever he felt like singling out on a given day, but that’s not Nash’s style.
“He called up four guys from Loveland,” Ravi continues, and next to Tommy, Eddie grimaces.
“Scrimmage?”
Ravi nods forebodingly.
“Shit,” Eddie repeats, and Tommy takes a deep breath, not quite sure if this is actually something to be worried about, or more melodramatics from a bunch of guys who’ve never had to play for the likes of Tortorella or Gerrard. “Does Buck know?”
“Buck’s the one who told me,” Ravi says, and Eddie whistles through his teeth.
“Is he already picking on the Eagles guys?”
“He’s got The List out,” Ravi informs them gravely, and Eddie actually leans forward and knocks his head against the steering wheel, startling Ravi when his forehead hits dead center on the horn.
“What’s the list?” Tommy queries, using the back of his hand to shove Ravi gently out of his way, opening the door before he rolls up the window to allow them to continue this conversation. He’s almost positive this is a late hazing, at this point, but never let it be said that Tommy won’t take any opportunity to let Buck’s team talk about him.
(Fucked, with a capital F.)
“You don’t wanna know about The List,” Ravi tells him ominously, dancing out of the way of the bag Tommy swings out from the back seat before shutting his door behind him.
“Tell me anyway.”
Ravi falls into stride beside him, detailing a nightmarish demon of a man who hazes the new kids and the old hats alike with pop quizzes on regulations and unspoken rules, right before drilling any random passersby with questions about the system they play until he was satisfied they fully understood The Process.
Tommy hasn’t seen a trace of this monstrous demon, but he’s actually kind of looking forward to finding out if this is a real thing Evan Buckley does. It sounds objectively hilarious, and also a little adorable.
It’s been two weeks and Tommy’s gotten a couple texts, a single call, and some heavy looks across a table at team dinner, or the locker room after practie, with no idea what, exactly, he’d said or done to draw Buckley’s ire. He actually thought I was there to replace him, Eddie had said, not five minutes ago, and Tommy takes the rest of the walk (Eddie and Ravi on either side of him looking like they’ve just gotten their marching orders) to reassess the last month or so.
Things had been great, after the All-Star game.
The new guys were still learning the system, which has an admittedly sharp learning curve, and they’d lost a few games, in amongst the grind, but Tommy was skating better, and Buck was pulling off some pretty spectacular shit every night, breaking ankles and running up enough points to throw him into the Norris conversation. McKinley had suggested some line mix-ups that had actually helped the new guys both pick up the pace and start to work within the system as it was designed to work.
Eddie had been making a point to pull Tommy in, inviting him out to places with the team, and sharing his sparse father-son time with Tommy, spending a few extra minutes out on the ice with him on practice days to try to give him some tips on his movement, his edgework, his stick handling skills.
For two and a half weeks Tommy had spent his nights stretching out sore muscles, icing aches and pains, and watching game film on mute, listening to Evan Buckley talk to him on speaker about the perils of simple carbohydrates while he shoveled two-day old shrimp fried rice into his mouth.
And then he’d been left on read for three minutes and barely spoken to him since.
In hindsight, it makes plenty of sense. Hell, he’d joked a million times to himself that Buckley and Diaz lived out of each others pockets; of course, of course Buckley would be upset by the perception that Eddie Diaz could in any way attempt to replace Evan Buckley.
Tommy will talk to him after practice. Maybe take him up on the beer he’d promised to buy Tommy in exchange for a few lessons on keeping his blades planted during a bout. (Nash and Hen don’t need to know he’s giving their star defenseman fighting tips.)
It’s as good a saying shutout with twenty minutes still left in a game.
Tommy isn’t actually paying attention, when it happens. He’s mostly trying to remember what he knows about their penalty kill, how it functions, which point of the diamond he’s supposed to maintain a five foot radius around while the power play unit hammers them with shots towards the net.
He is very firmly not thinking about how flustered he’d felt, walking into the lockers to find a half-dressed Evan Buckley wielding an actual clipboard, going through equipment checks with four Eagles players like Buck hadn’t previously played a game or two with all but one of them. Like the Eagles don’t closely follow the same system the Avs play. Like they’re not fucking professionals, themselves. Nothing about it should have done a single fucking thing for Tommy, and yet, while Buck made his way down the checklist and Wagner and Ivan elbowed each other in amusement as the fresh-faced kid who’d yet to be called up until today seemed to waffle between consternation and the need to prove himself.
Tommy doesn’t have a praise kink. Or a degradation kink, come to think of it.
But he’d suddenly realized he absolutely had a thing for Evan Buckley leaning into the obsessive perfectionism. (He’d had the irrational desire to see what his Google calendar looks like, and had to stuff that away immediately while Wagner waved at him from across the room and received an icy glare from Buck for daring to interrupt.)
He doesn’t see it, is the point he’s trying to make. From the left of his goalie, Tommy takes a puck to the bucket and watches Buckley circle back up to the top of the zone while he blinks away the dull gong-like ringing in his ears, watches Ivan shovel the puck back to Buck and Buck slide left, right, barely keeping it in the zone when he spins away from a poke check, and then Wagner skates right through Tommy’s line of vision, and by the time Tommy repositions himself, Buck is chasing after Eddie, who has the puck and a clean sheet of ice straight to Chim.
Tommy keeps up with Wagner down the ice, Buck chasing ahead of them, and with just the team and coaches in here, Tommy can hear a lot more than he usually can, even in a practice setting— the sound of the guys on the bench chattering away, taking notes on how a PK is actually supposed to function; the slice of eleven sets of blades gliding over the ice; the chirping from Eddie as he taunts Buck, five feet behind him, and Buck’s loud, loud guttural shout a moment before he catches a burst of speed and extends his knee just as Eddie winds back to shoot the puck.
Eddie goes down with a groan of pain, and they all slow, the momentum of the chase propelling them most of the way as Eddie curses, a loud mix of English and Spanish while Buck drops his stick to his knees and sucks in a few steady breaths.
Hen is out on the ice about fifteen seconds later, and things devolve from there.
Eddie flops into the seat next to Tommy, ten minutes into their flight, and Tommy raises a curious brow, eyes darting up from his book when Eddie just sighs. Six rows up, Buckley is making friends with the d-man they’d called up from Loveland, just in case Eddie’s knee acted up and he had to be scratched from the lineup.
It’s the first time in three months that Tommy has seen them sit in separate rows on a flight.
Eddie shrugs half-heartedly when Tommy tilts his head in question.
There’s enough chatter going on that Tommy doesn’t feel the need to pull out his phone and have this conversation through his fucking notes app, but he keeps his voice low, regardless.
“How’s your knee?” he starts, because despite how close they’ve become, he’s under no illusion that he can just dive straight into the “we made your best friend mad, how do we fix it” conversation without some small-talk to ease them into it.
Or maybe they can. “Recovering from Buck’s possessive streak pretty well, actually,” Eddie says with a breathy snort. “Wish his ego would get on the same page as my knee.”
Tommy bites down on the urge to defend him, of all things, but a moment later Eddie sighs.
“That wasn’t fair. Buck is — he gets a little weird, sometimes, about the people that are important to him.” He pauses, fingers tapping against his thigh as he shoots a careful look at Tommy. “I feel kinda bad. All he ever wants is to feel like he’s being included.”
“You’re allowed to have more than one friend,” Tommy intones, and then feels for a moment like walking it back at the lofty tilt of Eddie’s head, his pursed lips, his deadpan expression.
“Buck has about five million attachment issues and three people he trusts implicitly, and one of them has been inadvertently icing him out since he left for the All Star game. He’s second guessing six years of friendship because he didn’t realize dating wasn’t the only thing that could take my attention away from him for more than five minutes at a time.”
Tommy thinks that’s probably an oversimplification, but he gets the gist. “Have you talked to him?”
“Not successfully,” Eddie intones, with a nod towards the back of Buck’s head.
“I’ll talk to him.” Eddie gives him a grateful tap, two knuckles to Tommy’s knee, and shifts back into his seat, stretching his leg out into the aisle. “Maybe wait until after the game. Dallas is only six points behind us and I’d much rather he take a run at Duchene than you, if he doesn’t like what you have to say.”
The chuckle that escapes containment is a little self-deprecating, but Tommy tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and pretends to get some shuteye while he ponders what the hell he’s actually going to say to Buck. After the game.
Letting Buck stay mad is either gonna make or break this game. Tommy hasn’t decided yet, but it’s a running concern, as they go up one, then Dallas ties, then Dallas captures the lead in the closing minutes of the first. Buck is agitated down the tunnel, agitated through intermission, agitated as he lines up for the opening puck drop of the second period, agitated as Dallas mucks things up in the neutral zone, agitated as the refs miss an interference call that he’s been penalized for at least three times in the calendar year, so far.
He’s agitated as he gets smashed into the boards behind Dallas’ net, and agitated as Diaz misses his pass and the puck trickles out of Dallas’ zone, and agitated when Dallas takes advantage and nearly goes up another goal, the puck clanging off the iron before Chimney can scramble from one side of his crease to the other.
Dallas plays a shitty, boring game of keep away, jamming up every play they try to make in the neutral zone, and with two minutes left in the second, Buck takes another nasty hit against the glass, sandwiched between Benn and Hintz with the puck no where close to him. The no call is probably his last straw, when he comes away bleeding with Hintz’s stick still stuck in the padding of his helmet.
Back on the bench, Buck washes out his mouth with water, grimaces as Hen dabs at the cut just to the side of his eyebrow, an uncanny match to the birthmark on the other side of his face, and proceeds to argue with Nash for thirty seconds as the clock ticks down and Nash keeps him on the bench.
Nash has a rule, in these scenarios. They play for the next five minutes, every time, no game too far out of reach because they’re just setting up for the next five, but the important piece is handing off the last five. Whatever happened, whatever will happen, once the previous five are up, they’re done. There’s no changing them, only learning from them.
And Buck is clearly not ready to hand it the fuck off.
With twenty-seven seconds left and the puck once again stuck in the middle of the ice, Buckley and Diaz replace Manson and Girard, and Buck takes about half a second to assess the run Duchene is making towards their zone before he seems to make a decision.
It’s a legal hit, technically speaking. He catches Duchene with his head down, but Buck has both speed and a build up of negative emotion just leaking from his pores, at this point, so when they meet in the middle and Buck locks his elbow, the crash ends up looking more like an explosion of momentum, from Buck’s extended mitt, through Duchene’s chest. Buck stays standing and Duchene goes ass over tea-kettle, legs going out from under him and the puck trickling off his stick right into the space behind Buckley, where Diaz skates over to scoop it up and send it careening through a free patch of ice towards McKinley.
Duchene doesn’t snap back to his skates, right away, and Tommy can’t hear it over the noise of the crowd, but in the moment before Buck follows the puck on it’s way towards Oettinger, he bends to say something that has Duchene seeing fucking red.
Christ.
Tommy supposes he can add another player to the list of people who are gonna throw a fucking target on the number 18.
McKinley ties it up with seven seconds left in the period, but on the skate back to the benches Duchene decides to get chirpy. Buck gets through the glove taps just in time to have his stick snaked out from it’s loose hold by a smirking Duchene, and the shoving match the commences almost gets their entire first line thrown in the box for the start of the third, but it’s Buck that puts them all on notice as they skate back to their own benches.
“You’re a fucking joke, man!” Buck yells, still half-hanging off the sideboards, skate firmly tucked beneath the bench to give him leverage to lean back out and make direct eye contact with Duchene. “Your career is a joke, and you’re an embarrassment to the league. How’s that ring chasing going, Matty? I fucking lit you up, asshole, and I’ll do it again!”
Tommy makes the mistake of staring through the glass towards the Stars bench, where Dumba is staring directly at him. So. There’s that.
Whatever Duchene shouts back is lost to the final whistle and a battle for the puck that Stankoven ends up shoveling into his own zone just to kill off the last few seconds on the clock.
The ire hasn’t left Buck, once they’re in the room. They can all feel it, attitude fucking rolling off of him as they listen to Bobby walk them through his strategy to get rid of this congested mess of a game and get through to the net.
Tommy spends his twenty minutes trying to remember his last fight with Dumba.
It’s a tie game. There’s an edge to be had to winning a territorial fight like this — momentum can swing based entirely on whether or not Tommy’s fist makes contact enough times to fire up his team. The problem is the one player who’s been fired up the entire game isn’t doing shit to generate the kind of momentum they need to break out of this slog of a game and build some fucking offense.
There’s another option. They’re all pissed at the refs, and have been all game, and Tommy’s the locker room guy, the one they look to when their stars have said their piece and the coach has left them to their own devices. If the refs toss him, they’re gonna be amped the fuck up.
Nash would be pissed he’s even thinking about it. Buck might actually pick a fight he can’t win, if Tommy doesn’t play it right. Fighting Dumba won’t work, for this, so he’s gonna have to suck it up and play the villain, ignore the heavyweight fight and go for something gritty and fucking rude.
Benn, then.
It’s been a while since Tommy’s laid out Jamie Benn.
Both benches get warnings from the refs before the start of the third, and Buck blatantly ignores them the moment he’s on the ice, chirping every single black-and-neon green sweater that has a chance of hearing him, missing setups because he’s too busy laying reverse hits and generally being a pest.
Tommy absolutely shouldn’t find anything about this remotely amusing, because if he keeps it up, Dumba is absolutely gonna find a way to challenge Tommy, and everyone else is too frustrated with this new and unimproved Buckley. The problem is, Evan Buckley the pest is fucking hilarious, and the few insults Tommy has managed to catch are not only fantastically amusing, they’re also bitingly specific. Buck’s putting his stats and lore knowledge to good (evil) use.
He’s pretty sure he even catches a slyly worded allusion to cunnilingus that Benn very clearly does not like one bit, but Benn doesn’t have time for retaliation because Buck takes his momentary lapse to pick his pocket and spin into the Stars zone with three Avs on his heels.
The puck pings off the crossbar five different times before the Stars get possession again, and with fifteen minutes left in the game, Dadanov snipes one past Chim into the net.
Tommy can feel the bench deflate.
Dallas shaves another three and a half off the clock by clogging up the neutral zone before Tommy gets an opportunity on the ice with Benn’s line, and he doesn’t waste any time — down a goal with eleven and change left in the game, he doesn’t see a whole lot of other options, and he doesn’t really give Benn the opportunity to not engage.
It takes a bit of maneuvering.
Stripes haven’t called shit all game, from either side, so it’s a risk, either way, and Tommy’s goal isn’t to actually injure Benn, just make the hit look bad enough and blatant enough that they’ve got no choice but to call it. He waits until the puck has been off Benn’s stick for a hot second before he slams him into the boards, and the crowd gets loud.
The whistle blows, and just for the hell of it, Tommy wraps both hands around his stick and shoves it into the middle of Benn’s back when he tries to get back to his feet.
Johnston gets an arm around his neck half a second later, and both linesmen come careening in to break it up.
He’s assessed with five minutes, which isn’t ideal, when that shaves off half their time left in the game, but a minute and a half into the penalty kill Heiskanen takes a chop at Ravi when he manages to get the puck down past the red line, and suddenly they’re four-on-four for at least the middle portion of Tommy’s gamble.
Dallas’ special teams aren’t as good as theirs — not when they’re evenly matched — and when McKinley finds Panikkar with a stretch pass there’s no one in the lane to intercept.
Tie game, with a minute and a half left in Tommy’s major, back to being shorthanded, but there’s signs of life on the bench, and Buck seems to have finally fucking cooled his jets (Tommy spends forty seconds wondering which one of them convinced Bobby to force a Honey Stinger into his hands).
In typical fashion, the moment Tommy’s out of the box, Dallas returns to slowing the game right down, well aware that it’s the easiest way to neutralize the Avs offense, and the minutes chip away while Tommy watches the clock.
On a flyby, Duchene chirps at Buck and Diaz both on the bench, which is ultimately the Stars fucking downfall, even if they don’t know it.
With forty-seven seconds left on the clock, Diaz skates through traffic and gets a saucer pass down the ice to O’Connor, and Lundkvist blows a tire in his attempt to defend him.
The puck sails in right under Oettinger’s blocker.
In the locker room, ten minutes later, Tommy catches Nash’s eye and does his best not to look guilty, but Tommy has studied Nash’s career, and they both know exactly where he’d gotten his ham handed idea from. The expression on Nash’s face tells him everything he needs to know about how quickly he’ll end up a healthy scratch if he tries it again.
Tommy’s still working through his wording, five hours later, when he settles into his room in Boston. Tomorrow’s a rest day, nothing but a coaches meeting on the books, so regardless of how things go with Buck, he’s at least got the advantage of a full day where they’re not required to speak to each other, once Tommy’s said his piece. He’ll give Buck the night, let him sleep off whatever agitation had had him so hot all day, knock on his door in the morning and apologize, maybe convince him to grab another coffee, if the apology goes decently.
And if not, he’ll have the day to lick his wounds and remind himself that he’d absolutely known he was setting himself up to hurt his own feelings.
He’s eternally grateful his trade had happened so early, because he’d heard rumblings on the plane ride over that the Altitude team was planning a half-day of get-to-know-the-new-guys coverage, and he’s already done his thirty-minute sit down with Keefe.
The knock on his door startles him out of his reverie, and when he swings the door open, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s expecting, but it sure as hell isn’t the chagrined, lopsided smile of Evan Buckley, leaning against the door frame and looking contrite.
“Buck. Hi.”
Buck’s chest rises with the deep breath he takes.
“Hi,” he says, and in the dim hallway light, with his shoulders turned in on themselves, he looks suddenly vulnerable and tired. “Can we talk?”
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yuridovewing · 1 year ago
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Definitely a little controversial but tbh I'm a "Crowfeather would have been a bad dad to the three if he and Leafpool succeeded in running or if he knew about them" truther.
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spotaus · 3 months ago
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If I have energy I want to draw out some designs for an au I'm spontaneously writing.
(Medieval times, there's a Prophecy. Nightmare rules over this kingdom and is supposed to complete this prophecy, he refuses to because it would harm the people. Dream was sent away and banished by Night because he was dis-illusioned into thinking the prophecy was a Good Thing abd what he was raised to complete. Night collected his Knights (Killer, Dust, Horror, and Cross most recently) and trains them and tells them the truth of the prophecy. They're loyal to him. One day the magic of the prophesy (Apple Magic) leaves Nightmare unexpectedly, returning him to the state he was in before he accepted the mantle. This puts a target on his back and gives Dream a huge advantage in maybe making a comeback. The Knight's decide that their King (newly a young lad and variably scared and frightened) must be protected and they run the kingdom as he normally would, while also ensuring he survives and that the prophecy can't be completed.)
#yes this is fueled from RealAge AU vibes#and yes I technically have circled back around to my own initial post but like#the visual of these specific guys who've had various hardships in their lives suddenly like... idk... gaining a purpose and a protector in#Nightmare then seeing him reduced to a fraction of what they'd known him as. and still deciding to follow and care for him?#this au gives off distinct Older Brother energy because Night is like... 13-ish and not young enough to#baby but not old enough to resume his duties immediately#and he's got this like... awkward teen anxiety suddenly flooding through him that he doesn't know how to cope with#so the guys turn around and use lessons Night taught them while they adjusted to help him#Night's weak from Magic-loss? well he used to make sure Dust got bed rest and a meal so that's what we'll do!#Night is losing a huge chunk of his autonomy? They found a hobby for Killer so what does Night like?#just... yeah#plus Dream fully believes his bro pushed him out due to greed for power and had gathered forces to rally with him during exile#so he's the returned golden prince#and I imagine here that the final stand involves the knights scattering to stop Dream's forces while Killer stays with Night (<- most loyal)#and Killer hides Night right before Dream shows#and Dream says a bunch of vitriolic stuff about how Night ran and sacrificed his men and such and cuts down Killer with a near fatal blow#and Night finally manages to get out of wherever Killer stashed him and there's a moment where#Dream is seeing his little brother abd Night is seeing the man who lost his rights to be called brother when he attacked his Knights#and like... idk man#also Error is definitely Night's court magician/wizard because he bends reality in ways it really shouldn't#and here Error is younger because. i. I like the idea of an Errormare subplot but also like. the idea of scary spooky Overlord NM looking at#the wizard who just turned a vase inside out who's like 10 and learning he's a runaway and sponsoring him? yeah that's silly.#turns out Apple Night appreciated Error's raw talent. after the fact Night realizes he admires Error. insane tonal whiplash from his Knights#who have Zero protocol for courtships and kinda like. just watch it happen after the chaos is over#Okay that's all. i need to do my homework
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ode-2-joy · 8 days ago
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john doe. joe cool. katamagi.
[image description: a digital drawing of john doe. he's a very large, very fat man, with long black hair and a handlebar mustache. he's wearing a pair of goggles, and is smiling uncomfortably. he has a brown tank top, worn blue jeans and a spikey bracelet. he's holding drumsticks. the background is white. end id]
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stevieharringtonwifeguy · 2 years ago
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t4t lesbian steddie where they've been publicly out and together since the early 90s, and in modern days eddie's scrolling through twitter for the band and sees one of those transphobe 'if trans women are lesbians why don't they date each other?? checkmate, transbians' posts and is like. oh my god
so she posts a tiktok or something with the tweet in the corner like 'SHIT why didn't anyone TELL ME' and there's like a second of her running into the living room where stevies just sat chilling, reading a book or smth, and then eddie's like 'STEPH did you know TRANS WOMEN DONT DATE EACH OTHER??' and stevie doesn't even look up from her book she's just like 'oh damn, wish we knew that before the wedding. this is pretty embarrassing.'
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corrosive-equilibrium · 20 days ago
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doodleswithangie · 2 months ago
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au where stan and bill make a not-quite-deal (because stan’s not falling for that) to build the portal
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(and they hate each other so much)
[Image description: Fanart of Stan Pines and Bill Cipher from “Gravity Falls.” Alt text is proved and copied below the cut. End ID]
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Image one: Stan possessed by Bill leers at the camera and says, “Hey, Sixer!”
Image two: Bill appeals to a younger Stan after the portal accident, saying, “I think we can help each other out! We both need that portal. Whaddya say?” Stan reluctantly considers the offer.
Image three: A seething Bill looms over the shoulder of an oblivious Stan, saying “Stanley…”
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tyranitarkisser · 1 year ago
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Nurse Mituna?! Do you trust her....
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encrucijada · 5 months ago
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building a time machine to go back and steal the rights of trc from maggie
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dayurno · 30 days ago
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Real question about keremy haters AU is how does Jean not immediately kill himself when he finds out about Kevin fucking Jeremy. He did not suffer through being Thea's messenger boy and then Riko's punching bag x1000 to be rewarded with this. Jeremy isn't even good at exy. Will Jean's suffering never end
LMFAOOOOOOOOOOO god ok THIS IS SO FUNNY the truth is well honestly he Wants to he's just busy with life and trying to be normal with the trojans. at the start of the story he has no idea anything is even happening and he only really learns about kevin and jeremy being involved well into winter break of jeremy's first semester at PSU, although by the time kevin visits california to help jean out with interviews he's at least aware that kevin's looking out for jeremy. when he finds out they're sleeping together he's Not Happy Lol which is half of why they clash so much during winter break, the other half being that jeremy did not forget for one second that he is a raven and supposed to hate jean for jumping ship. he hasn't softened on kevin so much as he's aware that he depends on him for exy (among other things), but he has no reason to have a kinder look on jean at this point in the story
it also doesn't help him that jeremy can very much tell (and perhaps always could) that jean has feelings for kevin, which amps up his antagonism x10 over because kevin is his partner, and because he's the only thing jeremy has left, and because jeremy hates them for having gotten this close at all when his own experience in the ravens was so marked by being betrayed by the only person he thought was his friend. it's all a mixed bag really, and they famously get into one Really bad fight that almost ends up in serious injury for jeremy :) they have a slow but steady path to building up any kind of relationship, but it Does happen, and a lot of their underlying anger towards each other is also a healthy dose of sexual tension. nonetheless it's going to take a hot minute for them to feel anything for each other besides hatred, jealousy and begrudging sexual attraction
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