#I JUST FINISHED AND I'M LOSING MY MIND

[malimaywrite]

i said 'female rage pls but make it women of color thx' and netflix said 'here, sweaty :)'

[1004knightingale]

she's obsessed.

[anewp0tat0]

Happy Fathers Day, I'm finally on time for something!!! I don't have that much flavor this time though folks. just sweetness. that's it. hope that's cool, never too bad.

if you think this is anything but platonic then no, plz. away

[siflshonen]

Asexual Aromantic Senku Ishigami and his gay, common law married best friend and roommate Gen Asagiri who travels for his job

[missingbk-dkhours]

Waiting for him to wake up

[sibylsleaves]

from the love to the lightning

5k | rated T | read on ao3

But when Buck tried to ask him if everything was okay with him, Eddie just said, “Me? Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?"

And Buck really didn’t have an answer for that so he let it go.

Because Eddie doesn’t hide that stuff from him, anymore. Not since the day Buck broke down his bedroom door and found him sobbing in a heap on the floor.

So when Eddie says everything’s okay, Buck believes him.

or, after the lightning strike, Buck recovers. Eddie doesn’t.

Healing is slow. Buck knows this. He’s done this before. Last time, he was too eager, probably, to get back to work.

This time, he’s learned how to be patient.

The first week, his parents hover around the loft, offering to do anything and everything for him, even though Buck is definitely capable of microwaving his own soup and fetching his own pillows. But he can’t deny it’s nice to have their attention. Their care. Although he can’t help but be afraid that the minute they get on the plane back to Pennsylvania, it will evaporate again.

The rest of the 118 gets back to work, and Buck surprises himself by only feeling a little jealous that they get to be out there while he’s stuck on his (brand new) couch. After their parents depart, Maddie takes a few extra days off from dispatch to make sure Buck’s taken care of, although he suspects it’s more to keep him company than anything.

But actually, Buck’s days are far from lonely. Because most of them—the weekends and the afternoons, anyway—he spends with Chris. Sometimes Chris and Carla. Sometimes Chris and Eddie, when he’s not on shift. And sometimes just the two of them.

It’s strangely like the time they spent together after the tsunami. Chris is older now, of course, almost a full-blown teenager instead of a round-cheeked eight-year-old, but he’s just as attached to Buck now as he was then. Maybe even more so.

When Buck heard about the ICU caper that Chris, Eddie, and Carla managed to pull off during Buck’s time in coma dream purgatory, he almost started crying on the spot. When he asked Chris about it, Chris just said, “I had to talk to you.” Like that was that.

“I’m really glad you came to see me,” Buck told him. “Even if it was against the rules. I heard you, you know. Your voice, telling me I had to come back. I heard it.”

“I knew you would,” Chris said, and Eddie, who was standing by the kitchen door watching them, looked away.

It’s nice, that Chris wants him around so much. Buck really doesn’t have much else to occupy his time while he recuperates, and it’s pretty hard to feel sorry for yourself when you’re hanging out with the coolest kid in L.A. They even go to PT appointments together, because Buck got a referral for Chris’s clinic, since they specialize in neurologic physical therapy.

“Hey, hope you two are hungry!” Eddie greets as Buck and Chris tromp through the door after a particularly rough session. 

“Starving!” Chris exclaims.

Buck looks at the takeout boxes on the dining table. “Is that Tito’s? Did you get—”

“Chili con carne?” Eddie asks, reaching into one of the bags and pulling out a foil-wrapped burrito.

Buck loves him so much in this moment he wants to cry. Instead, he takes the proffered burrito, but he must be staring a little too much because Eddie drops his gaze and starts digging in another bag for chips.

“What’d you two get up to today?” Eddie asks as Buck and Chris both sit down. 

Christopher launches into a blow-by-blow of their day. Eddie laughs and smiles and makes jokes in all the right places, but Buck can’t shake the feeling that something is off. 

It’s a feeling he’s been having ever since he got out of the hospital.

(keep reading on ao3)

[saline-coelacanth]

Chen is indirectly linked to so many things in Ninjago happening and it's kind of crazy

[thatonegayship]

I loved the cowboy comic so much that I wrote a oneshot for it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50934235 🥺 your art is BEYOND amazing, ty for the food

INCREDIBLE!!!!!

[inigostears]

everywhere you go, love will follow you.

happy birthday to the love of my fucking life!!!

[asairayn]

....even more art of sunk cost fallacy by @thedemonsurfer!!! alternate ending again this time :) because. ow. adiohosijs. aiosldjkalsxcbuslikje. jasoihfapisjodajsdejadoidjapojscojan.

Movement; long arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him into a narrow chest. The flat disk of a head tucking over his own, forcing his rays to retract. It’s so unexpected that Eclipse has no idea how to react, just sitting like a wooden doll in Killcode’s arms. "You can stop." Killcode’s voice is a rumble he can feel in his shattered casing, strange but not unpleasant or painful. "You made mistakes, and it's okay to acknowledge that. You can stop." …he can? Eclipse takes a shuddering ventilation and tells himself it's because of the damage. The same damage that has stripped most of the strength from his frame, making it impossible to fight his way free of Killcode’s hold and leaving him no choice but to accept the contact.  (...he’s never been hugged before. Not even by Lunar, who had been much more likely to capture his hand or bat at his rays to show physical affection.) 

anyways killcode should definitely look more like moon at this point but i got a liiiittle carried away giving him a visually distinct small form and kind of forgot!

it's on lined paper because i did the lineart while at a harp concert and didn't have my actual sketchbook lmao

[pianokantzart]

[fictionadventurer]

After very little research into the other writings of Laura Ingalls Wilder and Rose Wilder Lane, my hypothesis about the Little House authorship question is that the writing is mostly Rose's, but the heart is Laura's.

In Laura's newspaper columns, the parts that sound most like Little House mostly come from the extracts she shares from Rose's letters (incidentally, it's kind of adorable how proud she is of Rose: "My daughter's in France!", "My daughter's in Albania!", etc.) The prose of Old Home Town, Rose's inspired-by-my-childhood-home novel, has some of the same concise descriptive prose that I've come to associate with the Little House style (I could hear passages in the voice of the Little House audiobook narrator).

Yet the Little House soul is all over Laura's columns. She's fascinated by the simple tasks of life, believes in home and family and hard work, believes in holding onto the goodness of childhood and looking forward with hope toward the future. There's an optimism, almost a romanticism, about life. The children's series that bears her name clearly comes from the same woman.

Rose, by contrast, is much more pessimistic. When writing about childhood, she's almost cynical about the life of a small town. She highlights the dark stories underlying the wholesome exterior, is extremely sensitive to the pitfalls of the social scene around her. Part of the difference is that Rose is writing for adults, but there does seem to be an essential difference in the personality behind the pen, despite the stylistic similarities to Little House.

(At the risk of pop psychoanalyzing people long dead, Rose seems much more neurotic and introverted and sensitive than her mother. In her writings and in the books about her childhood in Missouri, she comes across as child of a fairly comfortable modern life, with all the modern anxieties, in contrast to a woman who grew up starving on the prairie and knows that there are much worse things to endure than small-town gossip).

It's not much of a thesis, but I'm just fascinated by the fact that the Little House series can share so many stylistic similarities with Rose's writings, yet feel so much more like Laura.

[raiiny-bay]

cursed to draw only one (1) character forever

[spockandawe]

Oh, I forgot to use this picture anywhere! It's been an exhausting, EXHAUSTING spring, including the painting, including the paneling, including a trip to nj to retrieve a pile of furniture, including way too much crochet for human hands to safely endure. But the guest room is coming together! The lips are probably getting evicted to the next guest room over (music/manga room), because the Horrors have faded enough that I'm itching for my next paint job, and I think it's going to be a pink and red palette. Just having one vibrant room in my house makes me so happy already, I simply HAVE to continue

Actually, you know what, have these curio cabinets too, because I'm delighted with how they turned out. More gifted old furniture finally giving me a dignified residence for my knickknacks. Pls note the tasteful heavy bookbinding objects on the bottom shelves definitely because they're pretty and not because I almost tipped these things over more than once before getting them anchored to the walls

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Seeing the same people who perpetuated or sent vicious misogynistic hate to Hannah Schmitz, as well as disgusting racist abuse towards Yuki and Alex because of FUCKING CONSPIRACY THEORIES and those who just straight up ignored it, now up in arms regarding whatever the fuck is going on between the FIA and the wolffs is beginning to piss me off. Because now that it's not someone red bull affiliated involved, it's somehow now unacceptable.

[starbuck]

— Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson

(insp)