#indent

[acmeoop]

Your Magic Carpet Reproduction Cel (1986)

[prettyvintagehouse]

[ohblo]

this is how you replace a damaged stone (-:

[han-ban-bam]

another day bein a parent to a griffon.

[pangur-and-grim]

I have to get rid of the leaf pile eventually, but for now Belphie is having fun with it

[loveridden1999]

people who are complaining about chappell setting boundaries and asking for privacy with "she's not ready to be a pop girlie yet" make me so mad. why does she have to tolerate harrasment and stalking to be a pop girlie? why is your definition for a pop girlie of someone whose private life is all out in open for you to dissect? why should you have access to her family? why should she be someone who has to nod, smile and say yes to whatever you want fuck off maybe

[cuppajj]

"Are you comfortable?" "Yeah… I guess."

On one night like any other, Pure Vanilla tucked Strawberry Crepe under the covers.

The king had always been odd to them. Always been off, in a way they couldn't explain. His compassion and desire to care for them was unlike anything they'd experienced before, it was strange. They couldn't even play it off with their usual cocky bravado, because he'd always smile and laugh like he could see through it. They'd purse their lips and shrink away, and momentarily pause like a cat as the king pet their head. He'd continue to treat them like they were just a kid: advising gentle caution when they worked with Espresso, smiled as they fed the crows with Black Raisin, invited them to the castle for dinner--and he'd even helped prepare them for bed on numerous occasions, growing more frequent as time passed. Crepe didn't need his help, but over time, their insistence faded away. The ancient's soft smile and softer touch were alright, they supposed, and his tender voice could lull them to sleep faster than counting formulas ever could. Dare they admit that, though.

Pure Vanilla had brought a book with him, a different one from the library every time. All books meant for children, but Crepe had quit protesting for encyclopedias long ago, when Vanilla implored they let their mind relax with something easy. Crepe looked over the cover as Vanilla flipped the book open: 'Counting Cream Sheep and Other Dreamy Tales.'

"You always find one about sheep," Crepe remarked, muffled by the blanket over their mouth. Pure Vanilla's laugh was like tinkling bells. "As you giggle when I pretend to bleat, bluebird! It warms my heart." Crepe once always tried to vehemently deny their moments of childishness, but not anymore; not with Pure Vanilla keeping their nerves at ease. At most now, they simply looked away with warmth in their cheeks. "Did you need to bring that up?" "Why wouldn't I? It makes my night every time." "…Whatever. Can you just get reading? Please?" Pure Vanilla chuckled, turning the book to the first page. Once Crepe knew the king was looking away, their expression softened. As Pure Vanilla began to read, the child turned their head to listen; and with every word gently read, they snuggled into their bed further and further.

The narration carried them into the late hours of the night. The moonlight spilled through the window behind them, basking him and the pages of the book in an angelic glow. Crepe's eyes were growing heavier by the minute, tempted to give into the sleep but trying to stay open to see Vanilla, too. They wanted to see him, try and read his face, his voice, something… anything. Crepe had always wanted to seek, understand, deduce something about Pure Vanilla that would put an answer to all of… this. The book reading, the consideration, the encouraging of behavior alien to them and his paternal instinct to care this much about it. Analyzing his flavor content couldn't even put an answer to it, and they wouldn't dare answer why they were staring at him if he caught them doing so. It had been hard for no reason--Raisin and Espresso's kindness were easy for them to explain away. But Pure Vanilla… The king was unaware of the thoughts circulating through their mind, occupied by reading to see them clutch the covers. He didn't see them open their mouth, then close it, then open it again, the words struggling to leave… He paused at the end of the page and pressed his fingers to its tip.

"Pure Vanilla?" The meek voice paused him before he turned the page. "Yes?" He craned his head to smile down at them. Crepe met his gaze, licking their dry lips. It was quiet for a minute. "…Why do you do this?" the child finally murmured. The ancient blinked. "Read to you?" "No--everything. Everything you're doing for me. It makes no sense." After trying for so long to come up with an answer themselves, the wary relief Crepe felt simply asking him caused them to let everything out. "All this… extraneous stuff you do, you bring me along, you do this, do that, you do things I don't need, I…" Their words trailed off when they noticed Pure Vanilla's smile had wavered. The king stared at them, book now in their lap--but before Crepe worried if they had said something wrong, his lips curved upward once more; he understood. "…Ah." He took a breath and lowered the book. "In truth… I believe I owe it to you."

The two kept their gazes as the words processed in Crepe's head. The answer had led to more questions, it seemed, the way the child's eyelids fluttered and brows furrowed, trying to make sense of it. Since when did Pure Vanilla owe them anything? When had they made a bargain? They had never done something like that, they- They lost track of their thoughts when they felt Vanilla's hand skim through their hair. His eyes were lidded with melancholy now, despite his persistent soft grin. "Do you wish for the full answer?" "Please." "...My curious little bird." With affection in his touch, he continued to pet them. A silent moment passed before he spoke; it was as if he had been processing Crepe's tangibility with each caress.

"…I do not forget how--chronologically speaking--old you truly are," Pure Vanilla explained, his voice a low, reflective whisper. His gaze trailed to what lied just beyond Crepe's bed: the workshop, dimly lit by moonlight, with its library of dormant wafflebots. He could vividly remember when they roamed the ancient streets, fulfilling their duties to the satisfaction of his citizens.

"When I learned what happened to you, I felt a twinge I couldn't fathom," he explained. "To be in cryo, hibernating as time claimed the kingdom around you, your last memories a war-torn sky… I couldn't imagine the fear and loneliness you felt when you awoke, with no one there to hear you. You never deserved that trauma, ever." Crepe was quiet. They were memories they had hidden away to focus on progress; they didn't know until now that the king of the Vanilla Kingdom had held onto them instead. "Despite everything, you're still a mere child. I don't know how much the Dark Flour war truly took from you, but I know that within my power, I can be there for you now. We can be there for you, all of us. We wish to see you happy, bluebird, because it's the least you deserve." His tender hand slid down to cup their cheek. In his glimmering eyes was a mix of sadness, desperation, compassion, hope, pain...

"…But... I find myself wishing," he confessed, "that I was there to protect you."

Silence hung over the two once more as they never looked away from each other. Crepe, inarticulate, could only process Pure Vanilla's warm hand lightly brushing their cheek. The words were slow to register. "Oh," was all they mustered. The king chuckled lightly, giving their cheek a pat. "I'm sorry, that was a lot… I'm simply happy you're here with us, little one." When he pulled his hand away from their face, Crepe stifled their request to rest it there again. The warmth of his touch slowly faded into the cool bedroom air. "…Thank… you, I guess," they whispered instead, shrinking into their covers. "I like it here. I always did, but… you're okay too." "That's all I could ever ask."

He raised the book once more, finally turning their bedtime story to the next page. After wiping his eye, he asked, "now, would you like to continue counting cream sheep?" Crepe hummed, "mm, I wanna hear your baa."

Pure Vanilla's narration continued thereafter, the gentle lullaby of his voice drifting back through the little one's ears. Crepe did their best to mull over his confession, soak everything in and contextualize it with everything he'd done for them; but with each turn of the page, their eyes grew heavier and heavier, their thoughts slurring into a drowsy haze… Pure Vanilla heard the slow breaths of his bluebird, bundled snug and fast asleep. He chuckled to himself, closing the book. Sliding off the bed as quietly as he could, he tucked the book under his arm and reached over to pet their head one more time.

"Thank you." Picking up his sleepy orchid staff, Pure Vanilla quietly left, leaving behind nothing but the scent of orchids and a warmth in Crepe's heart.

They didn't know it at the time, but they were happy they were here with him too.

[shortnasties]

2765. Story of the Head

This is called "Story of the Head." It is very season.

There is already a head on my pillow at night. It's there with its eyes wide open, looking into the darkness.

I'm sorry but I believe you're on my pillow, I say.

The head rolls over to look at me. Its eyes are the same as if it were still looking straight into darkness.

That's okay, I say. I'll just sleep on the other pillow.

The head rolls back on the pillow. It looks comfortable. Meanwhile, I fall asleep fretfully, restlessly. There's no moon outside so it's just complete and immaculate night.

In the morning the head is gone. There is still an indent in the pillow where it was. When I touch the spot, it feels like I'm touching myself. Do you ever wake up and just feel vanished?

[mipexch]

oh to be a tired robot girl on a hot summer day

[primal--scream]

Okay, okay so I saw a post about what if Pepa started setting Buck up on blind dates, and I couldn't not do this, because it totally ate my brain and I can't remember who said it now and it's been haunting me. if this was your idea let me know in the notes and if you totally hate it, I will completely get rid of it but....yeah.....

ETA: thanks @belovasyelena for dropping the note, it was her post that inspired it, so glad you don't hate it!!

"His name is Gabe, and he's such a nice boy, you will have so much fun." Eddie watches Buck nod along with his aunt as she flits around the kitchen, but when her words finally register, he feels himself frown. "What are you talking about?" "I set Evan up with my neighbor's grandson, Gabriel." Eddie feels his jaw clench, "I don't think Buck needs dating help." "No, he certainly does not, but last week while he was there pruning my roses, they met and a few days later Gabe asked after him, so I thought why shouldn't I, they're both single." "Isn't he in the one in the Coast Guard in San Diego?" "Marines. He's a liaison out of the LAAFD." How does she even know what the LAAFD even is and really, the fucking Marines, Eddie thinks. Of course it's the fucking Marines with their dress Blues and their fucking swords and their dress up balls. And really, he doesn't even know why he cares. It's not like Buck is actually going to go through with it.

He watches Pepa hand a piece of paper to Buck, "Here is the restaurant, 7:30."

Buck smiles at her and puts the paper in his pocket, "Looking forward to it."

Eddie is too stunned at Buck's seeming heartfelt excitement to actually say anything, so he just stares at Pepa as she gathers her things, kisses Buck on the cheek, and then leaves.

"Hey, don't feel like you need to entertain her matchmaking, I know how it can be." Eddie says after Pepa is gone, hopefully giving Buck the out he needs.

"It's okay, I actually...uh...I'm kind of excited about it." Buck rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks turning pink while not exactly meeting Eddie's eyes.

"You...you're looking forward to a date? That my aunt set you up on? With a random stranger?"

"Yeah, I mean, I know it probably won't turn into anything. But, he was nice when we met, and it...it'll be fun. I need to get back out there, you know?"

Eddie can only nod, He can't be serious, right? Buck isn't actually going to go on this date. He's not looking for fun, and what exactly does fun even mean when it comes to blinds dates. But he rewinds back to the part where Buck had said he was nice, which means Buck may already like him.

Buck puts his plate in the sink and turns toward the door, "Guess I need to buy a new shirt."

Eddie's brain has stumbled again, this time over the words get back out there. What exactly does that mean for Buck and random blind dates? And why does he need a new shirt? This guy hasn't seen any of Buck's existing shirts. Eddie is positive one of them will be good enough. Before he can ask anymore questions Buck has left the room and Eddie is standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a half eaten sandwich and wondering what the fuck just happened.

If hours later Eddie is still stewing and he happens to see the piece of paper on Buck's dresser with the restaurant name on it, and if he happens to feel Chris' forehead and declare it feels hot at exactly 7:45 then that's his business.

And if twenty minutes later Eddie is striding into the restaurant making a bee line for Bucks table, that's also his business.

He puts his hand on Buck's shoulder, "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but Chris is really sick. He's asking for you."

Buck turns immediately, worry etched in the lines of his face, Eddie feels bad for approximately two seconds before he hears, "Who is Chris?"

And before Eddie can think about it, he blurts out, "Our son."

When he looks down at Buck, forty different expressions launch across his face at once, and when he sees the muscle in Buck's jaw start to tick, Eddie knows he's screwed.

Buck turns back to his date, "Excuse us for just a second."

Buck's fingers grip his elbow tightly as he leads Eddie toward the front of the restaurant. He pulls Eddie into a little alcove before asking, "What the fuck are you doing? I told you I didn't need rescuing from this date."

And really, Eddie has two options here, he can apologize for getting it wrong, and pretend like he's not an insane person, or he can, "Maybe I needed rescuing from your date." Option two it is then.

Buck stares at him, "What does that even mean?"

"It means I...I don't want you going on dates. Especially with Marines with uniforms and swords and balls."

The frown line between Bucks' brows deepens, "What are you talking about?"

Eddie knows it's now or never. With a quick look around, he pulls Buck into him and presses his lips against Buck's. He waits a split second and then runs his tongue along the seam of Buck's mouth. Buck gasps and Eddie takes the opportunity to lick inside.

It only takes Buck a few seconds to respond, and then Eddie is wondering if he maybe should have thought this out a little better. They're technically in a crowded restaurant, not all that well hidden, and Buck is currently trying to turn him inside out with just his tongue. He's not complaining exactly, but the places he wants to put his hands will get them both arrested.

When the kiss breaks, they're both panting, and Buck's eyes are dark and hungry, lit from the inside with a fire that makes Eddie's voice shake, "Come home with me. Now."

Buck nods as he runs his tongue slowly over his bottom lip and Eddie has to bite down on the needy moan that tries to crawl out of his throat.

"Yeah, we should...we should do that." Buck clears his throat, runs his hand through his hair and then straightens his brand new shirt before saying, "Stay right here."

Leaning against the wall, Eddie watches Buck go back to the table and break the news to Gabe. Gabe does not look surprised, in fact he's smiling a little too much. And that's when Eddie realizes he got played by his own aunt. But he's not mad about it.

[aquamarinebling]

very amused by the fact you can change odile’s glasses in-game bc there’s no dialogue indicating she’s noticed the change at all. despite the fact that changing glasses takes a while to adjust to, not to mention the new glasses might not even be her correct prescription.

[prettyvintagehouse]

[sprainedankle15]

no offense guys but i need harrow to climb gideon like a ladder i truly cannot vocalize how much these two need to fuck NASTY

[hyruling]

circle the drain

buddie, 2.5k, rating: T, post 8x11

“What if I wasn’t?” Eddie says at last. His voice wavers a bit on the last syllable.

“What if you weren’t…?”

“Straight,” Eddie clarifies, and the flush on his cheeks darkens. “Would that – change anything?”

[sarcasticmothdraws]

Me tryinh to remember how to draw tristamp ww and people just said he looks like he woke up from a nap

Then this would be when he JUST woke up

[payaso-affairs]

real quick comic sketch bc i think doey being all soft n moldable is very sillay