#THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING!!

[phdmama]

81 and 58 are speaking to me for Buddie. Thanks!

The Missus and the Ex & Accidental Eavesdropping

(Okay, this is what came to my mind - I really don’t have a handle on Marisol’s character so this might be off-target but oh well! Here you go, pal - hope this satisfies!!)

Buck doesn't mean to listen in. It’s not on purpose. It’s not his fault that he’s in the supply closet looking for more paper towels while Eddie and Marisol are having a fight right outside the door. He doesn’t even realize at first that that’s what’s happening — he just hears an intensely whispered conversation until all of a sudden, Marisol raises her volume.

“I’m getting sick of this, Eddie.”

Eddie’s voice is low, even, as he murmurs something too quietly for Buck to make out.

“No, I’m not just going to calm down. This is important to me, and now you’re telling me you can’t come? Because you have to go to the zoo?”

Eddie’s voice gets louder. “I told you, it’s—”

Marisol plows right over him. “The zoo where you have a membership? Where you go all the time? Oh,” and now her voice is dripping with sarcasm, “I’m sorry, I meant, where you and Buck go all the time?”

Buck freezes, clutching the located paper towels to his chest. He’s been giving Eddie and Marisol some space to explore this newfound thing between them, and he doesn’t think he’s done anything to Marisol to warrant that kind of tone. He’s barely spent any time at all with her.

“I told you,” Eddie says again, and uh-oh, now his voice is ice cold. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for Christopher to get to hear this wildlife biologist speak, to get to ask questions. He’s so excited. I swear, I forgot all about your friend’s gallery opening.”

“You forget a lot of things, Eddie,” Marisol says, and now she just sounds sad and sort of resigned. Like the rest of this conversation is a foregone conclusion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie says, frustrated. “This is my kid. I’m not going to let him down.”

“I know that, and I never expected to come before Christopher,” Marisol says angrily. “But it’s not just Christopher we’re talking about.”

Then she sighs so loudly that even Buck, still frozen in the closet, can hear it.

“How long have we been dating?”

“Six months or so?” Eddie says cautiously. “I don’t remember the date exactly.”

“Six months, two weeks, four days,” Marisol replies. “I remember the date. The time of day. What you were wearing.”

“You’re angry because I’m not great with remembering dates like that?”

Marisol snorts. “It’s not just dates. It’s stuff like, I hate fish and you’ve tried to take me for sushi six times. Roses make me sneeze but you’ve sent them four times. Our coffee date where you had to help Buck with some emergency and didn’t call me until half an hour after we were supposed to meet. You don’t pay attention to me, Eddie, and I think you know why.”

Eddie sounds honestly bewildered as he says, “I really don’t know what you mean. I know I’ve messed up a couple of times, but I do pay attention. I know that your birthday is March tenth. That you call your abuela every Sunday at noon, after church. That your favorite color is teal and it was the color of your quinceanera dress. What else am I paying attention to?”

There’s a long moment of silence and then Marisol says it.

“Buck,” she says. “There’s no room for me because you’re always looking at Buck.”

[noodles-and-tea]

Last part whoo!!!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4

[collaredkittyboy]

[millificent]

Every Nico Di Angelo fan focusing more on the background of the episode than the actual plot

[guccifloralsuits]

One thing I love about the Percy Jackson tv series is that they very consciously avoid making Percy come off as stupid. He’s ADHD as they come, inattentive sure, and funny as hell but that doesn’t mean he’s dumb, and they never dumb him down for the joke.

I think even the fandom falls prey to dumb him down sometimes, so I feel soooo vindicated seeing the tv series portray him CORRECTLY—a young boy with learning disabilities + trauma, but who is bright and rebellious & quick on his feet & has this whole sea of potential that we get to explore :)

[kangals]

friendly advice from vetmed: I know that when your animal has an infection that is generating a lot of discharge, you want to describe that to the veterinarian, because it’s a concerning sign. that is true. I also know that the most common word for this type of discharge is “pus,” so it’s logical that that’s the word that you’ll use when describing what’s going on. and in English, we often add a “-y” when we’re using a word as a descriptor.

but. the word. the word you are looking for. is purulent.

please stop sending in messages telling the doctor that your dog has a “pussy wound.”

[tildemoe]

ASL+U !!!!!!!!!!!

[ntrlily]

drm-free media is my passion

[uncanny-tranny]

Learning to internalize the message above, but art is in all of our bones. If you feel afraid to create art because it won't be "good enough," it's worth it to explore why you feel that fear. Creating art is one of the basic impulses of people, and if you want to create art, then you absolutely must.

[illuminchim]

“Between you and me, there is no need for 'thank you' and 'sorry'."

[phdmama]

So my darling frond @phoebe-delia gave me the following prompt:

Okay here's what I got: Drarry coming back from a date where everything went wrong. Doesn't have to be their first date, but an early one. The waiter got their food wrong, one of them was late bc of stuff out of their control, an ex showed up on a date—your call. Anyway—one insists on walking the other home, and when they arrive, they're both laughing, and a comfortable silence starts, and they realize they don't want it to end. And one says, "D'you want to come in?"

My dear, this is what came to mind - I hope it suits!

Drarry, T, ~1200 words

Tags: first date, bad date, like epically bad, brief mention of accidental minor injury/blood, gratuitous use of italics and parentheses

This is, quite possibly, the worst date Harry has ever been on.

Okay, to be fair, the date a couple of years ago, with that French wizard, would probably be considered worse, technically, given that it had ended with Harry in St. Mungo’s on blood-replenishing potions and the guy being arrested. 

Or the date with that witch who had, it turned out, been utterly delusional and convinced that Harry was not only the second coming of some obscure American deity (who even knew the Americans had gods?? Not Harry!) but that Harry was particularly eager to plant the third coming of said god into her… how had she put it? Oh yes, her exceptionally fertile temple of joy.

Just the memory of it makes Harry shudder.

So yeah, he’s been on some bad dates, and while he’s pretty sure this one won’t end up with anyone being arrested or sectioned to the Janus Thickey ward, it’s still been terrible.

First, he’d been late. Really late. Like, not just fifteen minutes but three hours. True, he’d been splashing through a mossy swamp after some asshole criminal and he’s pretty sure Draco had believed him given that Harry had apparated directly to Draco’s townhouse from the swamp,  as he’d been so anxious about being so late. To Harry’s credit, he’d sent several Patronuses and Draco had replied telling him not to worry but still. Late. Very, very late.

And, did he mention, he’d been in a swamp? So he’d showed up, not just late, but also dripping and smelling of swamp. Not a good look. Or smell. Draco had gotten him sorted out, loaned him some clothes, and they’d headed out to the fancy restaurant.

Except that sometime during the two weeks between when Hary had optimistically made the reservation and showing up for tonight’s date,  the restaurant appeared to have changed ownership and now had a very different theme. Much less high-end Italian cuisine and much more, well. BDSM club. They didn’t even have entrees. Just finger food.

And for some reason, Harry had felt compelled to stick it out, so they’d ordered drinks and food while watching a demonstration of something. Harry’s not sure what, but it had looked… complicated and uncomfortable. In any case, the drinks had been overpriced and watered down, and the food had managed to be simultaneously undercooked and thoroughly scorched. Harry’s not even sure how they’d managed to achieve that particular balance. 

The server had been, well, not rude exactly, but more, just… profoundly incompetent. It had taken her twenty minutes to put in their drink order, and then after another half an hour, she’d drifted over to ask if they’d like dessert menus and had seemed genuinely startled when they’d politely mentioned that they hadn’t actually ordered dinner yet.

The club had been so loud, they hadn’t been able to make conversation, and when the band had started to set up, Draco had given Harry a panicked look and suggested that they might want to head out. Harry hadn’t been able to hear him, and when Draco had leaned in to shout in his ear, Harry had accidentally smacked Draco in the nose. With his head. 

They’d gotten the bleeding stopped, but Harry is pretty sure Draco’s lovely, silk tie is never going to be the same.

So now, Harry is walking Draco home because Hermione had insisted that was proper, but he’s pretty sure this date is going to end on the doorstep of Draco’s townhouse, and with it, all of Harry’s hopes for more, better dates.

“So,” he says glumly and wracks his brain for something to talk about that, and then, of course. It begins to rain. Not just rain. It’s pouring.

It’s freezing cold, they’re already both soaked to skin, and it’s the worst date Harry has ever been on, so when he hears a strangled noise from Draco, it’s not surprising that he immediately thinks Draco is crying. Not that Draco’s much of a crier usually, he’s more prone towards snark and sulking, but still. So Harry stops, turns, opens his mouth and is about to apologize when he realizes.

Draco isn’t crying. Not at all. He’s laughing. He’s laughing so hard that he has to stop walking, and is just standing, bent over at the waist, hands on his thighs as he howls. Harry stares at him in astonishment. 

Finally, Draco manages to calm himself down, straightens up and grins at Harry. He’s as wet as a person can be, hair hanging in his face and his shirt is saturated to the point of translucence. He’s shivering but his grey eyes are shining and he’s so, so beautiful, all Harry can do is stare at him, aching with want.

“That,” Draco pronounces with glee, “was quite possibly the worst date I’ve ever been on, and I have to tell you, Potter, I’ve had some bad dates.”

Harry swallows. Draco doesn’t seem angry at all, or even disappointed (which would be far worse, Harry thinks). No, Draco is so clearly amused and Harry starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he hasn’t ruined this. Not yet.

They stare at each other and Draco’s lips quiver as he tries to hold back his laughter, and as lightning flashes overhead, Harry gives up, throws his own head back and starts to laugh as well.

“It really was terrible,” he agrees and takes a step closer to Draco, who just watches him approach, eyes knowing and sure. Thunder booms so loudly that they both flinch. “Not my best work.”

Draco snorts, reaches out and snags Harry by the belt loop. “I should hope not,” he agrees as he reels Harry all the way in, winding his arms around Harry.

“I can do better,” Harry whispers, and then Draco closes the last bit of distance between them, his mouth warm and insistent on Harry’s.

Draco tastes of cheap vodka and rain, and Harry reaches up with one hand to push Draco’s sodden hair out of his eyes while the other hand lands low on Draco’s hip. Harry feels sparks under his skin everywhere they’re touching, and he groans as he pulls Draco even closer.

They stand like that for moments or hours, Harry has no idea how long, he’s lost to everything but Draco in his arms. Finally, Draco pulls back with a gasp and as the silence between them is broken by another crash of thunder, Harry realizes that he’d missed the lightning strike that preceded it, too caught up in Draco to be dazzled by anything else.

“So,” Draco says and Harry can hear the smile in his voice. “Do you want to come over?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, his voice rough. “I really do.”

“Well then,” Draco says, and plants an affectionate kiss on Harry’s chin. “Why don’t you do that?”

As they make their way down the wet pavement to Draco’s townhouse, Harry slips his hand into Draco’s, feels the way Draco’s fingers thread perfectly through his own, the way Draco holds on tight, and when Harry slants him a sideways glance, Draco is looking forward and smiling.

Draco is smiling, it’s pouring rain, Harry is starving and there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than right here, right now, just like this.

Best. Date. Ever.

[mooskobold]

was catching up on @demilypyro's FFVII playthrough and got extremely peeved at how tasteless cloud's dress options are, so here's my takes on girl cloud that do his style a bit more justice imo (inspired by goth gowns and something my friend wore to the club the other day), plus a bonus Demily in her Aerith fit!

[vastpotato]

Love that tma is so traumatic constantly that we all gloss over the fact that Jon was kidnapped and forcibly moisturized while tied to a chair for a month.

Every time I think too hard about it it actually freaks me out. And Jon never talks about it again which also freaks me out

[soosoosoup]

Funk branch au

Au and branch design by @bbc-trolls

[civetside]

i was gonna draw the pool scene TM for real but then i remembered i hate drawing water so i did this instead

[marciaillust]

Asterism book cover