#yes i get to use that tag again!

[redinthesea]

"The Unlucky Groom" or "Have You Fulfilled Your Dream Yet?" or "Back Where You Started" or "Why Is He Cinderella Though" or "I Still Think He Needs to Be Put Down" or "Smoking is Bad"

[labotor]

my bougie dwarf LoF rook Tyarva and her sugar baby silly charming professor who she adores so very much <333

[heartorbit]

creatures

[kagooleo]

johto’s champion and chronicler for the deity of the ilex shrine, it’s lyra!🌿

this one took me a while due to trying out different techniques (studying a Lot of art nouveau) and making a couple changes to her outfit (the details help), but I’d like to think she’s learned a lot in her journey and wanted to reflect her experience more in her champion fit

her specialty would be in fairy types and her meganium’s divergent evolution is grass/fairy 🧚🪷

and a bonus w/ the johto gang after the photoshoot!

[flowercrowngods]

based on this concept of steve and mike coming out to each other

🤍 also on ao3

The sun is setting in beautiful hues of pink and purple, tinging the town of Hawkins, Indiana, in a light of serenity and beauty it doesn’t really deserve. Steve’s hands are gripped tight around the steering wheel as he carefully scans the road and the houses he passes.

He almost misses the bike where it’s lying on the curb, carelessly discarded by the looks of it, and a tinge of worry shadows his frown. Worry that doesn’t quite dissipate when he spots the figure sitting on the roof, almost black against the lilac colour of the sky, but he breathes a sigh of relief. He considers grabbing the radio to let the others know he found Mike, but decides against it. Something tells him that maybe they’ll take a while. Something tells him there’s more to Will’s stunned silence and Mike’s sudden departure from where they were all hanging out at Steve’s after another successful Hellfire session. 

With a sigh, Steve cuts the engine and gets out of the car, keeping his eyes on Mike the whole time — ready for him to take off again, ready to go sit a while and wait for him to come back. But Mike doesn’t move, even after he shuts the door and approaches the Wheelers’ house. He doesn’t acknowledge Steve when he pulls himself up to the roof, easier this time than the first time he did this. 

There’s a snide comment in the air between them, a version of Mike that would have lashed out at him, made fun of and insulted him. But this one just sits there, hands in his lap, frown on his face, and stares ahead. 

“What do you want,” he asks eventually, though it doesn’t have the kind of heat that Steve expects. He barely even sounds like a teenager. Just sort of… dejected. Steve aches for him; just a little bit. 

“Just making sure you’re alright,” Steve says, shrugging, looking ahead as well so Mike doesn’t feel watched. Or seen, maybe. 

Because the thing is, Steve does see him. He sees the way he looks at Will sometimes, and the way his eyes fill with something that can only be described as yearning, or aching, followed by regret and fear. Which always, always turn into anger. Into frustration. Into snide comments and rolled eyes and walls that keep getting an inch added to them each day. It’s never directed at Will, that anger, and rarely at the rest of the Party, but Steve still sees it. Gets the worst of it and takes it, because he knows something about how that feels. 

He knows something about looking at someone like that, about feeling that fear, that regret, that worry that come with it. He knows something about never really daring to meet someone’s eyes for fear of what they would see. 

“I’m alright,” Mike says, sounding anything but. There’s a bitterness in his voice. Frustration in the way his thumb is picking at the skin of his fingers. Confusion in the tension of his shoulders, and Steve feels like he only needs to make one wrong move, say one wrong word, make a single sound that’s off key to the melody of this moment, and Mike will jump off the roof and take off again with his bike. 

So all he says, after a moment’s consideration, is, “Cool.” Like he believes him. Giving Mike room to breathe, room to pretend. He knows something about that, too. 

He knows and he sees and he feels. 

And suddenly he wants to say something he’s never said before, something he didn’t even get to tell Robin because she knew and saw and felt, too, taking something from him that he hasn’t yet been ready to reclaim for himself. 

And maybe it’s because he sees something of himself in the way Mike holds himself, in the way he snaps at anyone willing to listen, in the way he frowns in regret and barely meets anyone’s eyes except when it’s in challenge — and, most of all, in the way he never, never meets Will’s eyes. In the way he looks away when the other boy turns to him, and in the way his eyes will snap back and take in everything about his best friend when he’s not aware of it. 

Maybe it’s because the sky is pink and lilac and purple above them, allowing for a certain magic to happen, allowing for a bravery that doesn’t come easy to him; but as he sits on the roof next to Mike Wheeler, the only one of the Party he never really connected with, he closes his eyes against the breeze that catches in his hair and opens his jacket a little further, slithering beneath the fabric as if in a brief embrace, a nudge, a sign to take this leap, and takes a deep breath. 

His heart is picking up its pace inside his chest, taking this leap along wit him, and pulls up one of his legs to wrap his hands around it — just to have something to hold onto. 

He opens his mouth once, twice, three times, but the words never really come out. They don’t know how, and he’s beginning to tremble a little with it, tension building in his chest where the words are still locked away, hidden among layers of truth. 

Mike looks over with a frown and eyes him warily. It makes Steve want to laugh, this sudden change of pace, but he just keeps staring ahead; even when Mike asks, “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Steve says. And then then dam is broken and breaking further, and with another deep breath, still not meeting Mike’s eyes, instead focusing on the tree tops in the distance that shine in hues of purple, he finally says, “I’m kind of dating Eddie Munson.” 

And just like that, it’s out. He’s out. 

He doesn’t know if the world still spins, if time still passes, if he still breathes, because for a moment there is only silence. Mike stops picking at the skin of his fingers, Steve stops trembling, and neither of them moves. 

It’s both anticlimactic and momentous, this silence between them when their eyes meet. When the words unfold and grow wings, when Mike understands, his eyes growing big with something that Steve can’t quite read with how tense he is despite his best efforts. 

The silence stretches between them, surpassing comfort and overstaying its welcome, and suddenly it’s Steve who feels like he’s about to take off if Mike so much as twitches his brows. 

“You… What?” 

Forget it, Steve wants to say. Nothing. 

But also, I’m in love with Eddie Munson. And I used to be in love with Nancy. And that’s okay. Both of that, it’s okay. 

He ends up repeating his words, though, because they know what it’s like to be spoken now. “Eddie. I’m kind of dating Eddie.” 

“But…” It’s Mike now whose mouth is opening and closing without saying anything. Mike who’s blinking, trembling a little, twitching, picking at his skin again, moving further along his hand this time to pinch the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Steve almost reaches out to stop him, but he doesn’t really dare to. 

“But?” he prompts after a while, not quite comfortable with this loaded kind of silence. 

“Eddie’s a boy.” 

But Tammy Thompson is a girl. 

“I know,” Steve says, his tone carefully neutral, wanting to see, to wait where Mike takes this, to hear what’s on his mind, to watch the wheels turn and the gears shift. He feels awfully raw and open, vulnerable with someone who hasn’t been treating that with care yet. But there’s something about this moment that feels bigger than his own fears, bigger than the light nausea settling in his gut; far more important than the way he wants to run and hide, away from the scrutiny. 

“And…” Mike continues, still battling the words inside his head. Steve wonders if there are too many or none at all. “But you… You loved Nancy.” 

Ah. Smart boy. “I did,” Steve says with a small smile. “And it was never a lie. But I found that… Yeah, I can kinda like boys, too, y’know? And that’s, like, okay.”

A beat. A frown. A confused, hopeful, small, “It is?” 

Steve just nods, smiling in reassurance and relief at equal measures. Silence settles once more, now that the sky has darkened into a deeper, darker blue; but it’s not as loaded this time, not as tense. It’s an invitation. An offering. A promise of I’m here, I’m with you, you can take as long as you need. To get down from the roof, to come back, to come out of wherever you think you need to hide from the world. 

Mike takes it. He stays, pulling up his leg, too, mirroring Steve’s pose and staring ahead, but not as far away. He seems alert, seems to be thinking rather than dwelling, seems to be gearing up for something. Steve watches and sees and knows, remaining patient beside him, his chin resting on his knee as Mike learns to deal with this new world that has been presented to him. This new world that comes with opportunities and chances and possibilities that are scary and big and difficult to make. 

“Y’know,” Mike starts at last, interrupting the silence, playing with it, his voice hushed and quiet to keep it from disappearing completely. “Lucas, when he had that championship game? He told us, Dustin and me, that we didn’t have to be the losers this time. The nerds. The outcasts. Different. And all I wanted was to scream at him, because…” 

Mike swallows his words, keeping them from tumbling out of his mouth, and Steve aches for him again. He wants to reach out, wants to say it’s okay, tell him it’s alright, to take his time. But he waits in silence, lets Mike find the bravery he needs on his own, and waits. 

“Because how could he say that, you know? How could he, when… Will wasn’t there. And all I did, all I ever did anymore, was miss him. And I loved El, I knew I did. And she was gone, too, but…” 

He trails off again, and this time Steve picks it up. To let him know he’s not alone. To let Mike know he understands what he’s saying. He understands. “But she’s not Will. You needed Will.” 

“But I shouldn’t!” Mike explodes suddenly, riled up because Steve adds fuel to the fire, because Steve has that same fire, too; and because they are so, so similar when they want to be. “And now he’s back and it should be fine, I shouldn’t be feeling like this, it doesn’t even make sense! How can I…” 

Steve looks at him, at his expression that is nothing but lost — completely and utterly. He’s seen it on the bathroom floor at the mall; high out of his mind as he was, he’ll never forget the way Robin looked at him, the sheer crestfallen expression. All that confusion, all that fear and frustration and, in the end, resignation. He’s seen it in the mirror, and he’s seen it in those pretty brown eyes that he just can’t get out of his head anymore. 

He offers, gently, “How can you need him when he’s right there? How can you love him when a year ago you loved El?”

And Mike just looks at him before he deflates completely, his shoulders falling along with his face. He nods. Shrugs. Looks away and hides his face behind his leg. 

Steve sighs softly, watching the boy and speaking the words he wants to say the sixteen year-old version of himself. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I really don’t, and it sucks sometimes, having this need to, like, decide. Or understand. Or stop and be like the rest of them.” Like Robin and Eddie, or like the rest of the world. “But I like to think, sometimes, that maybe it’s a good thing. That there’s just… I don’t know, it sounds corny as hell, but like, there’s just so much love to give, we can’t even stick to only boys or girls, y’know.” 

“That does sound real corny as fuck, man,” Mike says, and back is that long suffering tone of his, back is that eye roll and the twitching elbow, ready to nudge Steve in the side. It’s still tinged with that vulnerability, not quite Mike yet, but it’s an offering.

One of many tonight, it seems.

Steve grins, a bit lopsided and raw, shoving Mike gently as he remembers something he overheard once. “Sorry, mister Heart of our group, but I don’t think you have any leg to stand on here.”

That makes Mike freeze, though, and he stares at Steve wide-eyed; caught. Exposed. Reminded.

“What did you say?”

“Uh,” Steve falters, not sure where he went wrong — or if he went wrong at all. “I overheard Will calling you that, talking about you to, uhm. Someone. I don’t know. Why, what’s— What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mike says, way too quickly, pulling away again with everything he has, hiding behind those walls once more, and Steve feels whiplash from it.

“Mike,” he says, his voice quiet and gentle as he turns to face him completely.

“No.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says. Promises, as much as he can.

“Shut up!”

“You’re not wrong or bad or broken. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I said, shut up, Steve.”

“You should see the way he looks at you, too. You should go talk to him. You—“

Mike lashes out, finally coming out from behind those walls again, only to shove at Steve, to push him away — hard enough for him to lose his balance and almost fall off the roof, clenching one hand on the edge, the other in the rainwater gutter with a bitten-off curse.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Mike reaches for him immediately, snapping out of whatever anger Steve caused, and pulling him back until he’s safe again, apologising over and over, dead to Steve’s promises that it’s alright. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Steve, I’m so—“

He pulls Mike against his chest, finally reaching out to hold the boy who always pushes people away when they get too close — quite literally, too.

But he doesn’t shove this time, doesn’t move out of Steve’s grasp as the mumbled apologies become heaving sobs.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re so okay, Mike,” Steve tells him over and over as he holds him. The sky above is almost black now and Steve lets Mike cry into his chest.

It takes a while for Mike to calm down, but Steve just holds him through it, ready to let go whenever Mike wants to pull back and snap out of it again — but he never does, and Steve feels a certain kind of affection for the boy that is usually reserved for Lucas or Dustin.

At last, when he’s calmed down, Mike pulls back a little. “Do you really… Does it… Is it really okay?”

Can it be okay? Can I really like both? Is that not just me, being broken and wrong and bad? Will I get the chance to not be alone?

Steve swallows hard, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Yeah. It’s really okay. ‘N’ I’m with you, yeah? If someone gives you shit for it. Or if you need a reminder.”

And Mike — puffy eyed, snotty nosed, so, so young — looks at him with those trusting eyes and nods, like he believes Steve. Like he trusts him. Like he hopes.

“Just don’t fucking shove me off your roof again.”

Ans just like that, the spell is broken, the tension is lifted, and silence has left them, as Mike almost chokes on a laugh and shoves at him again, lightly this time, before jumping off the roof so Steve can’t retaliate.

“Asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head as he, too, jumps off the roof, dusting off his pants as he watches Mike grabbing his bike. “Hey, Micycle,” he calls, cackling when Mike flips him the bird. “You want a ride back?”

Mike stops, considering as Steve casually flicks his keys into the air and catches them expertly. “What kinda music do you got?”

“The Clash, ‘cause Eddie hates them.”

“Yeah, that’s because they suck!”

Steve snorts, opening the driver’s side door. “Y’know, they’re one of Will’s favourites, actually.”

He watches Mike freeze with a grin on his face, knowing there’s no way the boy would take the bike.

“You’re so annoying,” Mike sighs as he brings his bike close to the garage and carefully lays it on the grass this time before hurrying over to Steve, getting in on the front, rolling his eyes when Steve cackles. “I don’t know why Eddie would date you—“

His words are drowned out when Steve turns up Train in Vain, drumming along on the steering wheel with a shit eating grin. Though the atmosphere is wildly different now, the spell broken and the bubble burst, it’s undeniable that something happened between them. Something big, something important.

Something that makes Mike’s annoyed, long-suffering expression be broken by the smile he’s trying to hide. It makes Steve laugh, elated and feeling something that’s much, much bigger than he himself ever could be.

It’s going to be okay. So, so okay.

Before they know it, they’re pulling up to Steve’s and he turns off the car, is about to get out when Mike makes him still again.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s cool. You and Eddie.”

He smiles, relief and fondness washing over him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” He reaches over and ruffles Mike’s hair — a wild mane these days, but they could make it work with some care and some products. “Now go get your man, lover boy.”

“God, you suck so much, you’re so annoying!”

Steve’s cackling again when the passenger door slams shut and Mike lets himself into his house.

He spots a figure in the dark, their face lighting up when they take a drag of a cigarette — and Steve’s heart stumbles in his chest. He scrambles to get out, attempting to look calm and collected, even though Eddie always manages to see right through him.

“Hello, stranger,” he says, leaning against the wall beside Eddie, hiding away in the dark, where the world won’t see their shoulders touch, or their fingers tentatively playing with each other before they can’t take it no longer and lace their hands, holding on tight.

“Hi,” Eddie breathes. “How’d it go?”

“Fine, I think. But, uhm… I told him. About me. About us. That, uh. That okay?”

Even in the dark, Steve can feel eyes on him, but he just stares ahead, opting instead to give his warm hand a squeeze. He smiles when Eddie’s thumb begins to draw patterns on his palm.

“Hmm. Very. You think they’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, stealing Eddie’s cigarette from his mouth and pulling it between his own lips. “Yeah, I think they will be.”

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[charcubed]

oh everyone and their DISCLAIMERS about how “lokius will never be canon because disney and marvel are awful, but”........ well I have nothing to lose so. fuck disclaimers! this is my idea of fun! what if it CAN and WILL be canon, huh? what if the story is gonna go where it seems to be headed. what if I say they’re going to kiss on international streaming television. who’s gonna stop me

[abyssal-glory]

vector portrait for digital imaging class of RGB!! hey go read The Property of Hate if you haven’t already btw it’s an amazing comic by @modmad that i’ve been hotglued to since my junior year of high school.

big thank you to mod for giving their permission/blessing to wrestle with this horrible tv bastard in adobe illustrator for the express purpose of shilling him and this comic to my unsuspecting class <3

(edit: god okay pls click for fullscreen. hogy shit)

[stoppingo1k]

usually my drawings are notoriously inconsistent, but this time around i'm having a lot of fun building and sticking to stricter ideas of what i want everyone to look like. some agents (and herbert jumpscare) for practice

pushing the pudgy penguin shape can be a little difficult, considering the shape constraint unless you want to go full. whatever CPI did, which i don't personally. but apart from general build, you can get a good amount of diversity out of beak size+shape, feet size+shape, the shape+thickness/thinness of the strip of white that comes from the beak

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU - First Night

We are back because i had a new idea and i really liked it :3 and I really wanted to type a KillerPOV drabble so here we are

So we are back with a new drabble! also @spotaus get over here :D also. *nervous laughter* I think these drabbles keep getting longer and longer. don't expect long drabbles each time please hehe... Some concepts are just shorter in what they need to do them justice and sometimes i get multiple ideas for the same scenerio and they get longer to fit it all.

First Drabble Prev Drabble over here Next Drabble

Look at these guys trying to parent their immortal child. Look they know the situation even if they are still getting used to the idea and all it implies

-------

Killer watches the farm house through the tree line with a frown. Cross stands next to him with his own frown "Think this was a bad idea? Maybe we can go to another place."

Killer thinks as he keeps staring at the door that Horror disappeared into "Maybe..." except they had been constantly universe hopping for the last four days. Never staying for longer than either a quick nap, meal or supply run.

A glance back to see Dust who stands with a very exhausted Nightmare.

Killer turns back to the house "Maybe for the better." even if they really need a night of rest and-

Dust huffs "Or you can just have trust in Horror's opinion and wait it out."

Killer turns back with a glare "I am being cautious!"

Dust doesn't even look at him "You are being an idiot. Crop is fine. He never sold Horror out to the Stars. He won't sell out Nightmare." Dust keeps looking at Nightmare who is very clearly on the path to fall asleep fully.

Killer glares but steps away from the treeline and marches over to Dust. He glares and takes Nightmare from his hold. Dust looks unimpressed but doesn't challenge him.

Nightmare grumbles but just turns around and holds unto him instead as Killer hugs him close. Killer can feel his soul getting a bit smushed between them but it feels nice. a pressure that reassures him that nightmare is there and alive and fine.

Ngihtmare is still so light and tiny and fits so perfectly and Killer honestly doens't want to let go.

There is a very good reason that Nightmare hardly has to walk himself as all four of them are more than happy to hold unto him.

Cross looks up "Horror is coming this way."

Killer turns to look in the right direction as Dust stands next to him with his hand in his pockets.

Horror joins them and looks between Dust and him. more pointedly at Nightmare before pointing back over his shoulder "We can stay for a bit." Then he stares at Killer "please just behave. Crop is nice."

Killer huffs as he hugs Nightmare tighter to him. Nightmare huffs as he looks at him annoyed but doesn't complain. Killer actually feels Nightmare hold unto him tighter as well. Clearly more anxious about this meeting than he wants to admit.

Killer coos and nuzzles the tiny skull "It is okay Nightlight, if anything happens we are out before they even have the chance to do anything." Nightmare ducks his skull and mumbles some words before nodding.

Cross pushes and pats his own clothes down. Trying to get some of the dirt and grime off "Okay. okay. good first impressions. We can do this." he straightens his spine and nods to Horror. Clearly giving up on being presentable.

Killer can admit the constant universe hopping hasn't been the best for their overall hygiene which was another deciding factor for even considering doing this.

Horror gives him another look and Killer grumbles "Fine fine! I won't start trouble." for now. unless that other sans tries anything to hurt or take their little nightlight.

Horror still holds his gaze for a moment longer before nodding and leading the group towards the house. Instead of knocking again he just pushes the door open and gives them a look "no shoes" he glances at Nightmare who still doesn't have fitting shoes and clearly gives up with having manners concerning their babybones.

Killer shrugs and easily kicks off his shoes by the door, Dust does the same while Cross puts his shoes neatly by the door. Horror removes his own shoes again and leads them in.

Killer holds Ngihtmare close and starts to hang back in the group, nearest the door but still able to keep a close socket on what is going on.

Steps on the stairs and a sans walks down. this one has green eye lights and looks up with a smile "Howdy! It is nice to meet you'll!" he nods to dust "Good to see you again Dust. How is the shoulder holding up?"

Dust shrugs and gives a thumbs up.

Crop nods and smiles at them "Anyway. Horror told me about... the situation." and it is obvious in his curius gaze who he is looking for.

Killer pulls Nightmare a bit closer to him but Horror shoots him a warning look and motions forwards.

Killer huffs but slowly walks closer. Making sure everything about him says not to even fucking try or there will be pain. Nightmare turns slowly to study the new skeleton.

Crop smile turns more nervous as Killer goes closer but his whole face lights up when he spots Nightmare. Killer is a bit torn on how to feel about that. Obviously it is the correct reaction, Nightmare is the most adorable little babybones. But this is their babybones and Killer feels possessive over him.

Crop smiles more gentle as he focusses on Nightmare "Hey there. I am Crop. Horror's friend. Nice to finally meet you."

Nightmare frowns and pushes closer to Killer. Still feeling a bit conflicted about being treated as a kid it seems. At least he isn't trying to deny he is a child anymore. Killer nuzzles the top of the tiny skull and Nightmare relaxes more in his hold.

Crop grins widely as he looks at Horror "Anyway. I was grabbing some stuff. I don't have a lot of children things but I do got some too small clothes for either my brother or me." He looks from skeleton to skeleton "I... think you all can use a moment to relax."

After which Crop points out the obivous living room and kitchen. He motions towards two doors to the side which he says are his own and his brother's room. Next he shows the door under the stairs that leads to a bathroom and he welcomes them to use it.

Dust frowns "anything apple scented? apples dont go over well with Ngihtmare."

Crop tilts his skull but clearly thinks it over "I don't think so... if you do find anything with apples you can just leave it in my room, I ask you not to throw it away because somethings are harder to get than others."

Dust nods and takes Nightmare out of Killer's arms again and Killer can't help but watch closely as Dust easily gains a secure hold on Nightmare and Nightmare gets comfortbale with practised ease.

Dust nods to them "I am going to wash us." and he goes towards the bathroom.

Crop frowns "I am afraid i don't have enough toothbrushes for all of you. Maybe I got some somewhere but i wouldn't know where."

Dust shrugs as he raises his own bag "Has some necesserities." and he disappears inside.

Crop nods before looking at the them "I can show you the spot I had in mind for you guys. It is the attic and I apologise for the mess but I am sure it can be quickly changed to fit you."

Horror nods and Cross smiles "Thank you so much. Sorry for springing this on you..."

Crop waves it off "It is better than Horror just showing up with a stranger who had a hlaf severed shoulder."

Killer and Cross both blink and slowly turn to Horror. Horrro just looks sheepish "The crystal wasn't charged and Dust had been the one injured. This was as far as I could get..."

Killer blinks, okay that explains why Horror had trusted this place and this person.

Even so as Crop starts to lead them up the set of stairs Killer shares a look with Cross and nods towards the bathroom holding Dust and Nightmare. Cross follows his gaze before nodding and easily going to stand guard by the door.

Perfect. that way if anyone tries anything there is Cross to stop them as Dust can get Nightmare away safely. Killer quickly goes after Horror and Crop.

The attic is full of old boxes. But also an old closet, a large lounge chair by the round window and a nice queen sized bed. It is bare at the moment but Crop walks over with some new sheets and blankets and puts them on the bed. After it he quickly goes to the window and opens it to let the room breathe.

Crop turns around and smiles "Well, this is the attic. obviously a bit of a mess but we can probably move all the boxes and old stuff towards that area" he points to the side "Which will open up the space for you five to use." he looks sheepish "my house isn't exactly made to hosue this many people so it isn't a long term solution but this should work for a little while for you guys."

Horror nods as he starts moving stuff around "Thank you again Crop. This means a lot."

Killer gets to work with putting the bedding on the bed and getting ti ready. He doesn't care to much about bedding himself but Nightmare can't handle the cold that well and he deserves every bit of comfort they can get him.

Crop smiles "no worries! I am happy i can help." he starts helping moving the tinier things around as Hroror does most of the heavy lifting "I can go into town aftr chores tomorrow to see what I other people in town have that we cna use. I will also call my brother after you guys are set up to tell him of the situation." he stops and shoots them a look "I already told Horror but I am going to need somekind of story to tell others around here. THe multiverse isn't a known thing and I honestly don't want to get involved with that too much." and he waits.

Horror and him share a look before they look back at Crop "We will... figure somethign out..."

Killer nods "We will have to talk with the others. see what we can say and get a general idea." Killer figures they can sell it as being one of their babybones having been stolen six years ago. Probably either Dust or Cross as both have purple magic and would fit genetic wise. Can probably fit somekind of abusive ex in there that would explain Nightmare's nervous and scared reactions.

He will offer it as an explanation to the others later.

Crop nods "I will for now just say some friends came by with a babybones and you guys aren't willing to tell me exactly what happened yet. Should buy us more time but also enable to get someone to come to make sure he is okay."

Cold dread and Killer growls "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Crop blinks "A healer? Horror said that there was magic at play that caused him to become an adult before and now a child again. I can only imagine what kind of strain and restriction that places on a child's magic and soul."

A new dread. a fear he hadn't considered.

Did the magical protection harm Nightmare's own magic?!

Horror nods "And a healer would be able to make sure he is okay?"

Crop relaxes and smiles "hopefully. But for that I am going to have to need somekind of explanation or they will worry any damage or wounds have been newly inflected." and he shoots them a look "Which... could cause trouble with the family situation you guys have established at the moment."

Hroror frowns and Killer knows they both know what Crop implied. If someone thinks they are actively abusing him they will try to take Nightmare away from them for his own safety. The fact they all have love and aren't the most... friendly looking monsters will work against them.

Crop finishes putting some spare clothes in the closet "Again, I can buy some time with vague answers but from there on the explanation is up to you four." he looks around the room "This good for now? Sorry there isn't anymore space but Papyrus will come back soon and need his own room."

Horror thanks him again and says it will work just fine. Crop welcomes them to use the shower and bathroom as much as they want and that his kitchen is open for them to use whenever.

After that is is mostly a blurr. They finish getting the attic ready for them and Killer takes his turn to shower after Dust as Horror and crop work together on some quick dinner for them all.

The meal itself is mostly silent as Horror tries to coax Nightmare into eating. Nightmare still has the bad habit of eating too little or not eating at all when he is nervous or anxious, which is often.

Killer is still not a fan of how Crop seem to stare mystified and in awe at Nightmare. completely enchanted by the sight of the small babybones.

soon dinner is ready and Killer gets ready for bed quickly as Dust takes over most of the duties to get Nightmare ready, having had the most practise up to this point.

Killer just lays in the bed waiting when Dust comes by to drop Nightmare off with him "get him comfortable." and Dust leaves to get ready for bed himself.

Killer immediantly hugs the tiny form close and purrs "busy day today."

Nightmare hums sleepily nad give shim the stink eye but Killer grins as he pokes one of the little cheeks. Nightmare grumbles as he pushes at the hand poking him "Killer..."

Killer chuckles as he hugs the other close "Tiny grumpy nugget." Killer laughs as he sees Nightmare's little skull explode with a purple blush as he pushes at him.

"Killer stop that" it is more of a whine than a real demand and Killer nuzzles the skull with a purr. Killer can admit it is amazing to just lay in a bed. feeling clena and having a Nightmare near while content, full of food, and clean. only thing better would have been to have him wrapped up in a warm blanket directly after a very warm bed. but Killer only had that happen once before.

For now he just holds the tiny being near and relaxes when his own soul is right next to the comfortable babybones.

Honestly? All of this was worth it to have Nightmare clean, well fed and ready to sleep in an actual bed. Killer will admit to himself that the others were right with them having to find a place to settle, at least for a short while.

By the time that Dust returns and joins him Nightmare is already sound asleep and Killer is close to going to sleep himself. He falls asleep before either Cross and Horror join them.

------

Cross finally finished cleaning up himself and feels so many times better. Cross can admit he has problems with being dirty and is a neat-freak as Killer likes to call it. Cross doesnt mind it much because despite his teasing Killer also makes sure they go to places and by places where Cross can get the time to clean himself up.

Cross was a bit unsure about this plan at first but with the absolute faith both Horror and Dust had shown in the plan it had been a quick decision to trust them on this.

and they had been right!

The sans, crop, had been nice and helpful and immediantly saw Nightmare as the child he was. Which honestly is amazing and the only correct answer in Cross's mind. He also apologised for only having one bed available to them but Horror had just shrugged and siad it wouldn't be the first time they slept in a pile. Crop had been confused but didn't demand an explanation. Which is good because Cross doubts any of them have an explanation for why they all feel so comfortable with eahc other and will gravitate to lay together.

The fresh ingredients and meal made with it had also been welcome and even needed by how clearly all of them had needed a calm evening. Seeing the others relax had been a welcome sight and Cross takes all their dirty clothes to the washer.

Cross takes time to put their things in the washer and turning it on the right cycle. They will probably have some clothes dye mix-ups but Cross isn't going to seperate it into three different loads and hog the washer and run up the electric AND water bill just to run three tiny washes when it fits in one.

Cross nods to himself as the washer gets to work and makes his way up the stairs, hearing Horror move around in the kitchen. No doubt cleaning up and preparing some food for tomorrow in advance. Cross walks up the set of stairs with a certain excitement, he hadn't seen the attic yet as Horror and Killer took care of getting their things up there and getting them all installed while Cross helped Dust with Nightmare.

Cross feels the clothes he is wearing. it is just old cotton t-shirt and old sweats but Cross feels so much better. Just the idea of not sleepign in his everyday clothes will be so nice!

He opens the door and moves silently into the dark room. THe window is still open to let in the fresh summer air and Cross sight finds the three sleeping in the bed.

Cross walks over and smiles as he sees Dust, Killer and Nightmare all sound asleep. Nightmare is held captive in Killer's arms but lays with his skull right against Dust's own skull. Dust lays mostly hidden under the blanket wiht Nightmare and Cross is pretty sure that Dust is rolled up around nightmare as much as he physically can with Killer being where he is.

Killer has two arms tightly around Nightmare but his skull lays higher on the pillow than Dust, making it seem both are slotted together.

The three of them hardly take up a third of the room on the bed like this but Cross can't get himself to lay in it just yet. Not with the sudden turbulance in his soul. He quickly, but silently, leaves the room and rushes out of the house.

He stands on the porch panting and shaking. What are they doing? They are going to mess this up beyond believe and-

A hand on his shoulder. Horror leans with his back against the fench and stares at him "What is wrong?"

Cross chuckles and lays his skull on the wood of the porch fench. It is cool in the night air "We are messing everythign up."

Horror tilts his skull "I mean. I think we have been doing alright."

Cross laughs as he holds his skull "alright?! We have been dragging a babybones through different universes and dimensions for the last two months, you know, after abandoning him for a month?!" How is that okay?! This is the first time that Cross saw Nightmare completely clean, fed and comfortable in a fucking bed. Three. Months!

Horror doesn't disagree with him and just rubs his back.

Silence around them and Cross groans "What are we going to do?"

Horror shrugs "Same as before? figure it out step by step and try to do right."

Cross pulls his skull away from the wood and looks at him "We couldn't even feed him regularly. we had no place to stay. We were homeless Horror."

Horror nods "And we will have to figure out a plan for that now."

Cross feels himself shake as the anxiety returns "How?! We have no money. we have no papers or passports. we have no plan. nothing!"

Horror gives him a calm look "We got a place to stay right now to figure it out."

Cross groans as he rubs his face "Great. just taking stuff."

hroror shrugs "We can help Crop on his farm as thanks." he shoots him a look "It wasn't like it was that different wiht Nightmare before. we did somework for him and in trade could live there and get things." he raises a brow "If it makes it easier. See it as a temporary job with included housing."

Cross blinks as he considers that. it... sounds better than just getting things and owning someone for a lot of things. he gives a slow nod.

Horror nods as he continues "As for the other things. we are still... figuring stuff out. We ar e new to all of this and didn't exactly have places to stay when we started this whole thing. I think we did okay." he shrugs and nudges him back inside "lets sleep. You are tired and it is making you anxious. Tomorrow we can talk with Crop about how this will all work and go from there."

Cross is unsure before nodding and following Horror back inside. Horror locks the door behind him before going upstairs. They get to the bed and Horror gets comfortable with practised ease and Cross follows his lead. a bit of rearranging and Cross feels himself relax as he lays near his... friends? colleagues? fellow co-parents? Cross doesn't think about it much longer.

Killer had once compared them to cats for their habit of laying on and enar one another and Cross can't help but agree. it helps to hear them and feel them close as Cross tries to sleep in an unfamiliar place.

He drifts off rather quickly as exhaustion makes itself known.

-----------

First Drabble Prev Drabble over here Next Drabble

And there we have the drabble on how their first night/day went when they started to stay with Crop!

I think they did okay :D

[teddybeartoji]

o wait before i start posting any pics.. i was thinking that maybe.. you guys could help me liquify this gender some more by switching up what you call me.... DON'T GET ME WRONG I LOVE . LOVE LOVE LOVE WHEN YOU USE HE/HIM AND JUST OVERALL LIKE MORE MASC STUFF THAT'S SOOO MMMMMMMMMSO FUCKING GOOD like i don't get to feel that irl at all so it really does make me so happy but i've just been thinking abt TRYING to switch it up more yk? does this even make sense...... . hhhh anyway i might won't even like it and i'll want to just go back to hehim but i wanna try... JUST TO SWITCH IT UP.

[paintednailsandsoftdetails]

911, a confession

Let me start by saying that I don't really know what I'm doing here, so bear with me. If I actually go through with posting this, and you find yourself tagged and wondering who I am and why, or even if you happen upon it in the tags, I hope you take a minute to read this.

You don't know me, but you've been my community for a while now. I've checked your blogs daily for years, I've read your posts and loved your art and sent you countless anonymous asks to pick your brains- never hate though, because I'm not a Freak.

What I am, however, is a lonely lesbian with depression and (newly diagnosed) OCD, who has always needed some hyperfixation media/fandom to find life bearable. For some ~fun context, I was Raised by the glee fandom, I will die on the hill that watching queer as folk when I was 14 and discovering its fans 10+ years after airing made me who I am, I've got the most bizarrely timed stint in the 1D fandom under my belt, and I find nothing in the world more interesting and also affirming than Queer Reading (verb) media- to the extent that I earned an English degree and wrote a thesis specifically about it.

I haven't posted on here in 1.5 years, since I fell out of my previous fandom (apologies to anyone from said fandom who still happens to follow me and is seeing this, feel free to move along.) But I've been on this app every day since, because of 911.

(starting the read more here to spare you- again especially if you are tagged, I know you're probably feeling miserable rn but I do hope the entirety of this love letter reaches you)

I started "watching" mid season 5- by which I mean I was in a deep depressive state after disconnecting with previous media hyperfixation and, when I happened upon 911 trending while in need of distraction, I quickly fell down a rabbit hole. Tale as old as time, tumblr dot com convinces you that you need to tune into *insert media here* bc its fun and there are gay people! I caught myself up through all the big blogs and by the time May Day was airing I felt like I had a decent grasp on all the lore, all the fandom drama, all the places the writers were "definitely, so brilliantly" going to be taking the show that we had to look forward to, all without ever having actually seen an episode of the show (before you boo me, yes I've watched it by now, even season 1)

But I think it is important, and also a little messed up, that I fell in love with 911 through YOU, through the fans. Obviously watching the show initially through the lens of fan reactions first and not whats actually happening on screen can have some... interesting results. We've heard it all before, with the people who started watching specifically for Buddie around season 4/5 because they saw The Will and by the time they caught themselves up and watched the end of season 6 they wanted their refunds.

Here is where I want to make a clarification- the reason I got so interested, why I started coming back every day to check in on tags and certain favorite blogs I didn't even follow bc I was denying the want to become fully Involved, was because I fell in love with Evan Buckley. I won't lie, it was Buddie that caught my attention first- of course, thats what everyone here was talking about- and as much as I quickly started discover the value of the show outside of them (Henren my absolute Beloveds!!!!! Captain Dad Bobby Nash you are so special to ME. Chimney man of all time i can keep going) none of it was enough initially to bite the bullet and catch up on 5 seasons worth of a show I also knew would have elements I WASNT interested in (Copaganda and Taylor Kelly I am looking at you.)

But then I started really getting into fan's readings of Buck *insert footage of me learning the Buck Begins of it all for the first time* as a character separate from Eddie (as much as people were capable of anyway, and I will say some of yall continue to be absolutely atrocious at it) and I knew I was done for. Buck, this character so full of goodness, and his need to be Found but to also Find his own family and purpose and sense of self, for whom the show's thesis statement concerns the act of working to Make the kind of Love you want to have in this world, even if you were raised without a blueprint for it- I'm sorry but what else were me and my gay ass queer reading inclined hyperfixated brain to do other than take Evan Buckley into the folds and never let him go?

I love Buck. I was convinced by the time the s5 finale was airing before I had actually watched the show that Buck had to be bi. Even if they never did a thing with it you couldn't convince me otherwise and I was also confident that Oliver was portraying him with a similar mindset. I never wavered in that interpretation, even when the utter disappointment of the s6 finale and the failure to do anything truly meaningful character development wise through the lightning strike-Natalia speed run hit, and certainly not as I got fully caught up actually watching the show outside of tumblr live reactions during episode airings. I'll admit I was pretty ready to Check Out after the end of season 6, to the point where I hardly checked in on fandom at all going into 7 until the rumblings of possible canon Bi Buck reached me and I doubled back like "hold on, for real this time?" But when I say Check Out, I mean I was ready to walk away from the hyperfixation with a joint lack of satisfaction with canon & firm conviction that Buck was queer.

Things with Eddie are a lil different- and I want to try and keep this bit brief bc this is ultimately a post about Buck and Bucktommy and I have no interest in unsettling those of you who may have a queer reading connection to Eddie as real as the one I feel for Buck, but unfortunately this conversation cannot exist separately from the Eddie/Buddie of it all- I personally don't think Eddie is queer. I don't really think I ever did, even when I was in the thick of it with falling for Buddie. I know me saying this would cause certain audience to pelt me with accusations of fetishizing Buck or treating Eddie as nothing more than a vehicle for Queer Buck via Buddie- false! I actually think Eddie is an incredibly fascinating character, a deeply compelling representation of grief and fatherhood and masculinity, and also a hilariously weird lil bitch guy. I just don't feel like- especially having removed fanon glasses while actually starting to watch the show, and taking the time to acknowledge that the things about Buddie that appealed to me on a romantic level (this is NOT about their friendship which i stand by being beautiful and important) all boiled down elements I was reading within and onto BUCK specifically, not Eddie. Perhaps an impossible concept for some, the idea that Bi Buck could feel so real and apparent to me primarily divorced from the idea that Eddie had to be queer as well, but I won't bore you with my explanations for it, though I suspect the people tagged and still reading by this point know exactly what I am talking about.

All of this potentially obnoxious prologue to say, I've spent the last however many months falling in love with canon Bi Buck *insert footage of me speed running back into my daily fandom involvement/blog check ins the moment I knew Buck kissed a man*, with Bucktommy, and with Bucktommy fans.

For a long while there I had resigned myself to an odd, though perhaps not as unique as I thought, reality of loving and fully believing in Queer Buck, not necessarily feeling the same about Eddie or Buddie, but also in full agreement with many that already 6 seasons in with literally nothing else having remotely worked, Buddie would be the only satisfying conclusion for Buck's love story. This is again not exactly how I felt about Eddie- but a big part of that for me is that I don't think Eddie's primarily story in 911 is a love story. He's the vessel for telling other important, beautiful stories about fatherhood and forgiveness and that is OKAY bc not every characters story is a love story!!! Evan Buckley's is though (Despite some very weird and confusing things mr stark has just said about his character that actively contradict what hes previously said and what audiences have been looking at and for this entire time, but I digress)

But then! By whatever happy accident we want to call it 911 had Tommy Kinard fall back into its lap as the solution to what felt like the impossible: They found the ONE way they could introduce a non Eddie Diaz love interest for Buck that COULD be satisfying for Bucks story. Someone with connections to the 118 and the shows history and potential for further development within main storylines as his job directly pertains to their plots. Someone with such compelling connections for interweaving these two characters that it got us- including the showrunner- talking about the Red String of Fate. That it got some of the beloved tumblr pals I had been watching for years, who NEVER would have believed they'd ever root for a Buck endgame that wasnt Buddie doing exactly that, and with joy, love, and conviction. Again I'll ask, what else were me and my Buck loving brain to do but take Bucktommy into the folds and never let go? (apparently I hadn't considered that there was apparently horrifying alternative- more on that next!)

As you all damn well know, falling in love with Bucktommy has not come without its trails. I have never seen things in fandom as vile as the things I've seen go down here. And as I mentioned before, I've been IN IT with yall for a while, even if you didnt know it. I was here, lurking, and I know this fandom has had its highlight reels of racism and misogyny and harassment (despite certain factions current batshit consensus that things were "never bad" before *gasp* a couple of people, some over the ancient age *double gasp* of 30 heard about bucktommy through tumblr the same damn way the 90% of you who havent been watching since season 1 heard about buddie and decided to invest)

What happened tonight made me cry, for about 40 minutes straight. And yeah, its been a devastating week for us all for a lot of reasons. On top of the ~national dread (I'm a lesbian in the US btw) today was my 7th out of 9 straight days of open to close shifts in a demanding retail/management position, and I have a head cold so maybe this was just a Breaking Point after a whole lotta shit.

But also, maybe, it was really fucking shitty to watch this play out. I've already seen countless people say it better than I could. Yeah, its a tv show. It's a fictional ship. But its also escapism, a spot of joy many of us were extra dependent on this week. It was something GOOD, queer representation and a love story on national tv days after a horrifying reality set in for queer people, and we are allowed to acknowledge how much losing that sucks just on a general level for a second...

Second over, now lets talk not on the general level. Lets talk about how I've watched real human beings get harassed, sent death threats, be told they are faking cancer and failing to properly grieve dead loved ones, I've watched deeply homphobic language be adopted and incorporated into everyday use despite constant correction and pleas from queer men to knock it the hell off, I've watched homophia as a whole run rampant and unchecked by big blogs, with some biphobia to boot, I've seen some images of horrific anti gay violence and historical trauma invoked as a way to make fun of others, I've seen lesbianism slandered and proffered as an excuse for such vile behavior in a disgusting erasure of the beautiful solidarity that has historically existed between gay men and lesbians in the face of homophobia, and yes, I've seen graphic descriptions of child rape via targeted fanfiction attacks.

Again, others have already said it better than I can: This isn't about Bucktommy. It's about the way that everyone who was Pulling for them as a couple, who DARED to *checks scribble on hand* enjoy a canon queer mlm couple featuring a character (or two) they've grown to care deeply for, has been subjected to all the above mentioned and more, and for...what. For. What.

In the name of a fanon couple that has not been legitimized by the writers in 7 years? of a fanon character interpretation of a canonically straight man (not just assumed straight, verbally assigned straight now on multiple occasions) that people cannot fathom perceiving this show, let alone liking these characters, without? For the version of this story that, if the writers REALLY wanted to happen could have happened so many fucking times by now- especially when the show was coming to what might have been its end in s6- and still hasn't? A version that has been dismissed multiple times by the writers cast crew and every other unfortunate individual who has been harassed repeatedly about it?

And I'm not here to say Buddie is inherently bad!!!! It brought me into this same as the rest of you. I don't even believe it would necessarily be a bad or wrong conclusion for either character or the show were it to eventually, finally happen!! But for the love of god, hear me when i say from the outsider pov of someone who has experience the show in the way I did first through fandom then stepping back to watch for real and now watching it with my mother who is a near Exact representation of the general audience of this show (experienced Procedural watcher, no idea about Buddie or fandom interpretation, had no sense of gay eddie to speak of, and is not shocked but pleasantly surprised by and endeared by Bi Buck) you are SEVERELY deluded if you think what happened tonight by breaking up Bucktommy "makes sense" to any audience outside of buddies who've been writing manifestos for years about how every single thing in this show is "carefully, intentionally, clearly" leading to Buddie canon. I swear to you the people at home do not fucking see it. The people at home saw Buck in a nice, developing relationship that finally seemed to be going somewhere real for him after discovering an important part of his identity late in life, and then they saw that relationship abruptly ended and Buck heartbroken, going to sit with his best, still straight, bud Eddie Diaz. The ONLY people this makes sense for are the people who I am afraid it seems may have legimately bullied this into happening.

And if that is the case? We are sooo far fucking past the point of no return here. There is no true satisfaction in a Buddie canon endgame here for anyone who's lived through the past half a year in this fandom unless you were a perpetrator of any of the horrific shit mentioned above. I mean that with my whole fucking chest. If, and i do think it is a Big Fucking Fat if, Buddie does happen, and you find yourself no qualms happy and satisfied with it as your well earned endgame, I hope you know how rotted you are. And while I'm at it, I hope some way some how you come to see that this was not the carefully crafted beautifully developed loved story of all time you were gods bravest soldier in waiting for. Its just what left after years of meandering storytelling and cyclical character "development" with a bow slapped on top at the last moment because the gift giver was afraid you might kill them if they presented less.

Anyway. I said a million words ago that this was a love letter, and I do mean that. As much as its also been an mental health exercise for me to write this all out. So,

@kinardbuckleys @bucksboobs @kirkaut @tevankinkley @userautumn @sunglassesmish @tommyscurls @ohithankyou @buckxtommy @princessfbi @bigfootsmom @firewasabeast

(And so many other people I'm surely forgetting, and the few artists and writters on other platforms I dared to venture to- maybe never opening twitter again after this xoxo)

Thank you. You don't know me, I never quite got over the anxiety of trying to re-enter a fandom space after a time away, or maybe some of the imposter syndrome or embarrassment I felt accidentally falling in love with this show and Buck by just watching you all talk about him before anything else. But for the last few months, some of you years, you've been my community, my escape. I've loved watching your brains and your hearts work to discuss and create, even amidst the absolute shittiest fandom behavior Ive ever seen. And I am as grateful for getting to experience it from a far as I am devastated at the thought of losing it, of not individually typing in all your blog names (I was too anxious to even FOLLOW you guys truly rip) to see what new content or spec or art or love you had to share about Buck / Bucktommy every day.

In another life- one where idk perhaps people were kinder or showrunners weren't bullied and actors weren't dropped last minute after months of torment and a satisfying canon queer love story for a character who genuinely needs it could just Be in peace- I would have loved to one day put on my big girl pants (aka saved Buck url) joined the fandom for real. To have directly talked to any of you in a way that wasnt... this.

I would have loved to love Bucktommy with you.

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[werenotacoupleyesyouare]

c!Wilbur ran away in the end because he couldn’t face the realisation that despite everything that happened, c!Tommy had been there waiting for him since the day he left btw. He came back with the hope of dealing himself more pain but was met with undeserved love and that hurt him much more than anything else he could have done to himself

[chiangyorange]

listen i know drawing mnmc!fleo is really crucial in art because it helps people differentiate the mfers but lets be real. he would not be caught dead wearing the ryūsei outfit fleos under the cut <3

Midlife Crisis - Mutant Ninja Midlife Crisis @mutantninjamidlifecrisis

chinstripes - odd man out @threestripeslider

on_trial - Trial and Error @apatheticrobots

SpiceHurty - Last Grain Of Sand In The Hourglass @last-hourglass

airsupport - we’ll meet again, soon (thats me hi :])