#830;i&

[itsyamanjack]

Nicknames.................... @askoverkill I've never seen dragonball so I'm gonna focus on the nicknames instead

(honestly older Lupus only here because I wanted to throw a pillow at the dawndusk as well. Sickeningly close. /lh) ((Also ISAT ref))

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

just came home from a long ass shift, collapsed face first into bed, n audibly said to myself oh I'm gonna enjoy the fuck outta this. n just meant like. getting to go to sleep. anyways. Darry Curtis.

[lighthouseshepard]

here's a short little thing based off of this disco elysium fanart that ive been turning over in my head ever since i saw it. let that man REST and RECOVER.

You're outside of the old silk mill in a patch of grass that hasn't miraculously been swallowed up by pavement. It's your second day at precinct 41. Much of the time so far has been spent showing you around to get you acclimated to the new procedures and customs. You're unwilling to dampen the eagerness with which they welcome you by informing them you've been studying those procedures and customs for the last two weeks, so you play along with polite interest, like it's all new. 

You haven't had any actual cases yet and probably won't for a while. This is fine. Harry is still reintegrating himself back into the life he forgot, and while you've watched him take to some of it by muscle memory alone the rest is slow going. Some of his colleagues have more patience than others. For those who don't, you've found standing behind him and utilizing the power a single eyebrow raise seems to hold is enough of a reminder. 

The sun's out, vague in its promises of warmth but a herald of spring dawning nonetheless. All around you the last vestiges of winter have all but disappeared as La Revacholiere sheds her white coat. You, sitting cross-legged beside him at the indulgence of his odd request, have already taken your coat off in the hopes to feel at least a glimmer of heat on your skin. It's there, maybe, somewhere deep between muscle and bone. For right now it's enough. 

You cast a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He sits resting back on his palms, legs spread out in front of him. At ease, you think, staring off into the sky. He's been silent for all of ten minutes now. The dazzling green of his blazer sets an example of color the grass beneath you could only aspire to in a fever dream, and wouldn't want to. 

"Detective," you say. 

"Harry," you say softly. You reach out an arm to put one gloved hand on his knee. "What are you looking at?" 

He doesn't answer. It's nothing new. You're used to it by now, how he'll tune out of the only reality you're aware of for another, like he's having a conversation with himself far away. Voices, he says, and you're still sorry you don't know what to say to him in response. Whether or not you believe him is irrelevant. He believes it. Somewhere in the center of the mind you're in awe of, thoughts which make leaps of logic and lightning instinct you haven't seen with anyone else in the RCM, is a small sad man curled up in on himself trying to rediscover the light. If it's all a consequence of that or merely a quirk to accompany the kind of person who would, and did, lick his finger after he touched the leg of an Insulindian phasmid, it isn't your place to question.

He blinks. It usually takes him a second to come out of it. He smiles over at you, turning fully in your direction a face weathered and worn by the terrible choices people make to survive grief. His facial hair has grown back in from where he shaved it in Martinaise. You like it a lot better this way. It's as inexplicable as the rest of him, and dare you say, cool. 

"Nothing. The clouds are finally parting," he tells you. 

"I've noticed." Your voice is dry, but fond. "I think Revachol has finally decided to wake up from her long sleep." 

"She doesn't really sleep," he says thoughtfully. A small shiver trails down his spine, barely perceptible. You don't ask for clarification. You kind of know, anyways. 

"Are you looking though, Kim," he says after a moment. "Really looking?" 

"I have no idea what that means." You tilt your head up towards the sky, fading bruises from the tribunal which nearly killed you both raw in the fresh air. It's a memory of a bad day, now. "Yes?" 

"What do you see?" 

Maybe he's trying to get you to play along with him, maybe he's serious. It's hard to tell. You study the sky above you, a distant landscape of clouds rolling gently against a foggy-gray backdrop. Brighter blue hides beneath in wait, peeking out in strewn patches. The tops of buildings brush the bottom of the horizon, a seamless blend of distant silhouetted shadow. Suddenly you're back on that swingset watching the tide roll out, except this time your mouth is too dry to whistle and everything is different. You still never told him what your favorite blue thing is. 

"I see a city of promise," you say, allowing yourself to be lost for only a moment. "War torn but recovering. Waking up as we're waking up from the cold, starting something new. She's had her spring before we came along and she will after we're gone, but-"

You look at him again, sidelong, pointed, wondering. "I'm glad I'm here to see it."

"Really? I see a cloud shaped like a horse," he says, and points. 

It's clear he's fully teasing you now. You roll your eyes, catching the way his expression softens as his arm falls. He heard you. 

"I don't think I want to die anymore." He admits it casually, like announcing the weather. The stone of it skips silently until it sinks and slow ripples of understanding come back to you. A frown pulls at your mouth, kept in check only by the remnants of a mask you know is slipping further day by day. 

"Oh?" is all you can say, though it's not really a question. He nods, staring back out at the horizon. 

"I thought I did for a long time. Years. I undertook the prospect of it like a task I was certain I wouldn't see the outcome of, and that itself would have been the reward." He shrugs, shoulders saying more in their slump than he could attempt. When he looks at you again, he's smiling. 

"But I don't. Isn't that wonderful?" 

Your hand tightens on his knee. It never left. "Yes," you say, watching the way his hair blows back in the breeze. You think about how that first week you mostly saw him in the snow and rain, a broken record spinning on pills and glass bottles. The clear light of day suits him. He almost looks younger.

 "That's pretty wonderful, Harry.” 

Something's there, deep between muscle and bone, a feeble and returning warmth. You don't dare dig it up. For now, it's enough. 

[tinfoil-catholic]

Anxiety

[lonely-night]

ooooooookay first day of internship (on my birthday, I guess that's my birthday present?) let's see how it goes

[boycritter]

i’ve had an alarm set for 9 am the last few days and i keep waking up before it goes off which is fine i guess but it’s just a little insulting

[queenofbaws]

holy moly, just had a HORRIFIC dream that tumblr added a "family" tab, which was just a place where you could see your actual, literal, blood relations' reactions to what you'd been posting lately

absolute nightmare, jesus tapdancing christ

[steddieficfind]

Hi! I'm looking for a fic. Its one of the ones where Steve and Eddie are hooking up, but Eddie doesn't think Steve would date him so tells Steve he has a date. The specific part of this one is they are at Steve's and when Eddie tells Steve this, he gets upset (and goes out to by the pool I think) so Eddie actually calls the guy up and cancels in front of Steve so he believes him. The guy also makes a comment that if it doesn't work out, Eddie should give Steve his number because Eddie had talked him up so much.

Much thanks in advance and for everything you do <3

Request 830! Send us an ask if you recognize this fic!

[theriverbeyond]

got nothing done today and felt bad 👎 but at least tomorrow is another day 👍

[notkorolrezni]

pls dont ask me how many pics of Clara Oswald I have on my phone pls don’t ask me how many wallpapers I have of Clara Oswald on my phone pls don’t ask how many times in a day I think of Clara Oswald pls don’t ask me how many times I tried to dress up as Clara Oswald pls-

[nauticaltrain]

hellcat...real...

[regulargoose]

Watching everybody start the golden raven but it's not available on kobo yet

[wuntrum]

me sowing (leaving a message): haha this is awesome!!!

me reaping (waiting for them to call me back): bro what. this sucks

[love-3-crimes]

19 - announcer (allan!)

based off of the second design i made for him!

[medouse]

every time you say like oh idk. 19th century. and then proceed to talk about like aha. idk im just spitballing here like idk the 1920s or something aha. i am stealing something out of your house and replacing it with a rabid opossum

[anoddrock]

I got. REALLY carried away drawing my version of Death from the @witherburn-after-school-news finale.

Heavily impacted by the Not Deer(I based a lot of the bones on deer skeleton photos) and the fact that there’s a cool skull in the art lofts that I’m currently doing a charcoal piece of!