#these.... keep getting longer LMAo

[choccy-milky]

the place me and my roommate were supposed to move into today was so disgusting and uninhabitable we just took our stuff and left and now we're gonna be staying at airbnbs and hotels until further notice/until we can find a new place hopefully quickly...........im in my homeless drifter era y'all!!!😍😍so if im not as active then thats why LMFAO

1 like = 1 prayer

[half-bakedboy]

Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it

Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways. 

Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning. 

This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket. 

He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard. 

Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front. 

It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest. 

He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back. 

Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s. 

He’s Buck’s. 

He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it. 

“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek. 

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror. 

Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.

“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks. 

“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—” 

Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern. 

It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll. 

“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?” 

“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips. 

“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away. 

“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked. 

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”

It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.

(now on ao3)

[izzydrawsforfun]

I have decided to let go off my sinful ways and devote my art to the Lord

Izzy Draws for Fun is gone. Izzy Draws for CHRIST is in

[sergle]

yall are about to piss me off by not having any PASSING basic knowledge of the way the u.s. military manipulates its recruits into joining by typing up one of your uninformed, unresearched, unempathetic, individualistic, unbelievably annoying posts about how 100% of the people in the military ended up there because they just Love America So Damn Much! they're extremely mature and informed at time of recruitment, they can totally leave anytime they want, they totally had tons of other avenues in life they could've taken, there was no rush at all to get income as fast as possible, and everyone in the military also totally is part of the combat divisions and personally enjoys being IN the military very much, big believers of violence. everyone in the military is shooting guns all day, that's how that works. they LOVE BLOODSHED. also I love the "amewicans haha" twang to this type of shit because you're actually TOTALLY stealing our Thing, which is turning systemic issues into Individual Issues. Instead of talking about the powers that be, it's so Personal Choice up in here. It's, "well you shouldn't have done it then. I totally wouldn't because I know better." you don't wanna talk about the military industrial complex as a whole, and you don't want to talk about recruiters, you just want to pin the blame on Specific Individual People one-by-one, as if they're responsible for the system that they're being ground up in. someone was in the military? bad person, no matter what. it's easier to believe that, I guess, than to acknowledge that Normal People (with high school educations) are manipulated and incentivized into joining a system that is Bad. at like age 18. but yeah no that 18 year old should have just been smarter lol haha anyway here are some screenshots for no particular reason

side note this reply of someone going "umm just get loans and go into a high paying field it's easy XD" as a direct response to someone trying to explain how most americans joining the military are being funneled in that direction out of a need for money.

and another person who Decided that americans join the military just CLENCHING their teeth thinking of other people, and not thinking completely selfishly about their own selves and their own income/housing/healthcare.

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.

[yardsards]

im like the lorax when it comes to women's body hair. we should let it grow.

[pnfc]

i haint watched the dang chibisode and idk if ill actually watch it with sound on sdfjk but i have a hurt feeling about them casually imbuing perry with speech for a one off gag because the idea that he needs to talk to communicate is fake. we had 4 seasons of wacky magic hijinks cartoon where perry never needed verbal speech to communicate. they couldve done this gag at any point in the show but they didn't, and the fact that they didn't felt significant. perry's muteness is such a core part of his character, to me, to the way i conceive of him/write him. i don't wanna overreact to a goofy little side cartoon (even tho i'm doing it anyway) but it's still the characters, and it still upsets me! ok that's it i've said my piece

[brightlydim]

[SUSPECT IDENTIFIED]

God…?

original version under the cut

and some tags @b0nkcreat @gardnwater @localvoidcat @svturn-exe hope y’all like it :)

[muirmarie]

Me: I joke about writing the same McCoy centric story over and over again in different ways

Me: and like. I love doing it and imma keep doing it because it makes me happy.

Me: but also. I do sometimes wonder if it's like. A little Much.

Me: like maybe I should branch out or something

Me: [reads another fundamental and extremely insulting misread of McCoy's character by someone who is clearly making a Choice to cast McCoy as the villain, because they have to get him out of the way of spirk, because they're too???? idk immature??? to realize that even when you're in a relationship with one person, other ppl can and SHOULD still be important to you]

Me: lmao I hope I AM too much actually!!!! I hope it is 100% obnoxious how much I love that doctor!!!!! Time to write more versions of the same story of McCoy being forced to realize that he is loved and cared for!!!!!!

Me: I KNOW MY NICHE AND IMMA DIE IN THAT NICHE, THANKS

[stedesparasol]

Made Up Fic Title: Table for Two

Ed is sitting in his favourite diner in the middle of nowhere when a rather dishevelled looking man walks through the door, looking around a bit desperately for somewhere to sit.  His suit is all rumpled, his hair is a mess, he looks like he’s been crying.  There aren’t any free tables, but Ed is taking up a whole booth by himself, so he isn’t surprised when the man comes over and asks if he can sit opposite, really, he won’t be a bother.  Usually this is the point where Ed would say nah sorry mate, waiting for some friends (he definitely isn’t) but this guy… intrigues him.  So he nods, and the man flops down into the booth.

When the waitress comes over, he orders nothing but a black coffee, but if you asked Ed, he’d say the guy was already jittery enough.  ‘Maybe get some food to go with that,’ he suggests.  Not that he, y’know, cares what this guy does, but if he’s gonna be hitting the road again soon, probably for the best he has something in his body other than caffeine, or whatever.  The dishevelled man looks at him like he can’t believe somebody actually cares about his food intake (seriously, his eyes got all watery and everything) and orders a sandwich.  Ed gets the feeling there’s definitely something weird going on with this guy.  Maybe he’s having a breakdown.  Maybe he’s just killed someone.  Whatever it is, Ed probably shouldn’t get involved.

‘So,’ he says anyway, once the waitress has walked away, ‘what brings you to the middle of nowhere?’

‘Oh, I’m running away from home,’ the man replies.

It takes Ed a minute to process this, given that the man is very clearly in his 40s, and that’s a strange thing for a man in his 40s to be doing.  But then the man – whose name is Stede, it turns out, Stede Bonnet, former vice president of Bonnet Industries, you may have heard of it – informs him that his father has just taken him out of the company and given his position to his childhood (and workplace) bully Nigel, and when Stede left to go home and break the news to his wife, he found her in bed with her painting instructor.

‘Obviously I’m not wanted by anybody,’ he says around a bite of his sandwich that arrived two minutes ago, ‘so I just got straight in the car and drove away.  No idea where I’m headed.  No idea where I even am, and the car’s out of gas, which isn’t ideal.  And I didn’t pack, which I’m starting to regret, because this suit isn’t really suited (pardon the pun) for a road trip, but I’m going to have to make do until I pass a good clothing store.  Although I don’t know how I’m going to do that when I’m stuck with a car that won’t move.’

And Ed really shouldn’t get any more involved in this – it sounds like the poor guy’s had a hell of a morning and is probably making some extremely rash decisions which he’s going to regret by tomorrow and is almost definitely going to start crying again in a minute – but on the other hand, it’s the most interesting thing to happen to him in ages.  ‘I know a good clothing store,’ he finds himself saying.

Stede looks up at him.  ‘You do?’

Ed nods, nudging his plate towards him.  ‘Finish your sandwich and I’ll drive you there.’

As of right now, Ed really doesn’t know whether he’s gonna end up driving this guy to a clothing store, a motel, or back home to hash things out with his wife, but what he does know is that he’s weirdly glad he let this bizarre little man take a seat at his table.

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it ✌️

[sulky-cabbage]

The sukugo fight can't get animated any sooner I'm craving sukugo tiktok edits

[buglaur]

calloway family reunion ✧

[adudelolwriting]

"instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating" but with either brim or jam maybe? 👀👀 (last prompt absolutely gutted me btw it was SO good)

holy fuck i could have SWORN this was meant to be like 500 words. nope. another 1k oneshot . hopefully you'll enjoy :D this ones a lot sweeter than the other one (ask game here)

~~~~~~~~~~

Alex knew Brian and Tim were close. Brian is one of Alex's closest friends, and he knew about Tim a long while before he met the man. Alex first met him when Brian was 'auditioning' for the part of Brian, the main character in his film he was making. (Brian already had the part, in Alex's mind. Alex heavily based the character of his friend, and named the role after him.)

Don't get Alex wrong, Tim was an attractive man. He just… he wasn't Alex's type. He seemed very… nervous, talking to most people, his back stiff and arms crossed. Alex really only saw the man's guard get let down when he was off to the side, having a short, private chat with Brian. And Alex didn't think anything of it — why would he?

No, Alex was far more interested in his long term friend. He had talked to Jay, one time, when it was late into the night. They probably should have been asleep, but instead, Alex was talking about Brian. 

"It's just, he gives me the butterflies, like Amy used to," Alex said, laying on his back and staring at the popcorn ceiling of his room. 

"So you have a crush on him?" Jay asked, his head tilting to the side, like it always does when he was curious or interested in something. Alex shook his head, "no, I can't have one. I know he swings both ways, but he's my friend. I've known him almost as long as I've known you."

Jay chuckled, leaning back on his elbows, looking to Alex. "That doesn't mean much, dude. If he makes you feel like you felt for Amy, I think that's a pretty big sign," he smiles.

But Alex can't have a crush on Brian, right?

Yeah, the man makes his stomach flip, and pretty, and he makes Alex laugh, and…

Oh. 

Oh.

Alex had a crush on Brian.

Alex had a crush on Brian, and Jay was the one who helped him realize.

He let out a groan, blush blooming from his face as Alex tried to hide himself. Jay laughed at him, patting him on his shoulder. "Maybe you should ask him out. It looks like he feels the same for you too, dude."

"I just found out I liked him, I can't just — ask him out like that!" Alex huffed, voice muffled by his hands.

"Why not? Someone else might ask him out first! Imagine if like, he and Sarah got together," Jay laughed quietly, to which Alex groaned again, muttering a 'shut up' and throwing a pillow on him.

Some days have passed now, and Alex could only focus on the fact that he liked Brian. After shooting, Alex had made a plan to ask Brian — er, well, at least tell him. Maybe explain and hope production of Marble Hornets wouldn't be awkward if Alex explained why he couldn't look at Brian without getting flustered.

Once filming for the day was done, Brian and Tim were talking quietly as Seth put the camera away, and Sarah and Jay talked. It was a pretty full day, with all of the crew around. (Sarah even decided to stay and watch after her scenes were done!)

Alex walked over to Brian and Tim, and their conversation pauses as he got closer. "Hey man! What's up?" Brian asks. 

"Could I talk to you for a moment? Uh, privately?" Alex asked, and he felt his blush already starting to rise. Brian looks back to Tim, who simply shrugged. 

"Yeah, of course. Lead the way!" Brian smiled, and god, was the man pretty. Alex shook his head. The two walked a bit further from the set — out of earshot of everyone else. "Uh, I'm not in trouble or anything, right? Not firing me or anything?" Brian laughs, putting an easy smile on Alex's face.

"No, no. Nothing of the sort. It's, uh…" Alex paused, as if thinking of the words of his scrambled brain. "It's more… personal, I guess."

Brian's eyebrows tilt in concern. "Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah — It's, yeah." Alex took a deep breath. "Brian, I — I like you." 

His face must be so red. He can't make eye contact, instead staring down into the grass. The silence washes over them, and god, Alex ruined everything, didn't he?

"Oh my god," Brian giggles after a second, which felt like an eternity, "God, Alex, I like you too. Did you really not pick up any of the signs?"

"You… what?" Alex feels like his brain broke. Brian liked him too? Brian had been leaving signs?

"Yeah man!" Brian grinned. "I've liked you, for like, forever now. You never did anything so I didn't think you liked me back."

Alex laughs at himself. Of course. "Ah, in that case… are you free this weekend..?"

"Alex Kralie, are you asking me out on a date?" 

"If you could be inclined to join me, then… yes?" 

"I would love to. I'll have to ask Tim, to see if he's okay with it." Huh? "We've talked briefly about it, but I'll have to double check if we can get serious, too."

"What?" Alex asked. "Why — Why do you have to ask Tim?" 

Brian's eyebrows now curl in confusion. "Because… me and Tim are dating?"

"What?"

Brian giggles, breath whistling quietly from the gap in his teeth. "Me and Tim have been together for like, two or three years!"

"And you — you didn't tell anyone?" Embarrassment and shame flushes through Alex. He asked out a taken man. 

"We… we did, didn't we?" Brian says, seemingly to himself. "I thought we did. Was it not obvious? I've literally gushed about him for hours."

"I just— I thought you guys were friends — Sorry, I should go—" Alex was about to turn around and leave, but Brian took his hand into his own.

"Hey, dude, it's fine. I'm poly, y'know? I have two hands. I like you too, did you just forget that?" Brian giggles lightly. "Please don't run away from me 'cause of this, Alex. I'm like, ninety-nine percent sure Tim's okay with this."

They talked it out, talked to Tim, and everything was okay. 

And, well, besides.

Brian does have two hands for a reason.

[onethousxndvoices]

What inspired you to make hi fi rush overdrive?

the short answer: catastrophic levels of hyperfixation and an equal amount of hubris. this comic is a cry for help /j

the long answer: i really freakin like this game and wanted to create something tangible to show my love for it.

hi-fi rush is one of those games that completely captivated me in a way that most other media doesn't. everything about it was absolutely charming from start to finish and it altered my way of viewing art in a way only one other series has done for me before (mob psycho 100, if anybody's curious). it singlehandedly pulled me out of art block and for the first time in a while, it inspired me to want to do more with my art than what i'd previously done.

i guess in a sense, i'd been wanting to challenge myself to make something bigger for a while, and HFR just kinda waltzed into my life at just the right time. the sequel potential for this game is absolutely INSANE and i really wanted to take a crack at my interpretation of a hypothetical "Hi-Fi Rush 2" while we all waited for the real thing to come along (that original motive's obviously dead in the water now, fuck microsoft etc. etc.)

at first, overdrive was just a lot of "lmao wouldn't it be funny if ___" discussion in discord with my friends, and for a while i was happy with just leaving it at that. but time went on and more and more things started falling into place and suddenly i'm sitting in front of my pc at 3 in the morning staring at a bunch of character design drafts and 80+ pages of script and counting. i kinda just blinked and it manifested into existence LMAO

needless to say it's been a really fun journey so far, i've grown so much as an artist in the past few months of working on this alone and i'm learning by leaps and bounds with basically every page i finish. this is my very first webcomic (and honestly comic in general, i've only ever done illustration up til now) and it's 1000% me biting off way more than i can probably chew, but i adore this game and this community and i want to continue doing my part to contribute to the fanbase and keep the love for HFR alive. the story that's taken form in my notes is honest to god one of my proudest works and i'm really excited to get it out there to share with yall :)

(also, blame @batgirlteeth for enabling me. the screenshots that started it all.)

[s0fter-sin]

metalhead ghost who’s been in moshpits since he was a kid and is now a veteran of the scene and the self appointed look out. he keeps an eye out for anyone falling or passing out, kicks the shit out of anyone crowd killing or putting their hands where they shouldn’t

and he’s been keeping an eye on the punk in the kilt since he saw him throw himself headfirst into the wall of death

he looks like the type to start shit - loud and aggressive as anyone else here but a punk doesn't end up at a metal show for no reason - but there's also something niggling at him that he's gonna end up getting himself hurt. and ghost can’t tell if he’s going to do it on purpose

if he does, ghost needs to know. he uses these places as an escape - the music, the violence, the community - always has and he knows all to well how easily an escape can curdle and become destructive. he’s seen too many people lost to the darker parts of the scene, almost lost himself to it; he doesn’t want it to happen to anyone else if he can help it

so when he sees the punk sweating his mohawk off, his movements becoming looser and uncoordinated, he has no issues with yanking him out of the pit and pulling him away from the crowd; pushing him up against the venue wall and ordering him to open his mouth

the glaze that falls over his eyes concerns him even as he obediently lets his mouth fall open. he was right; the punk’s severely dehydrated, tongue and gums far to pale and along with the look in his eyes, he half-thinks he’s about to drop

he reflexively tightens his hold on his jaw to keep him up and the punk shivers, a flush creeping up his neck. an almost confused arousal joins the haze in his eyes and ghost smirks beneath his mask

looks like metal shows aren’t the only thing the punk is new to

[missmaymaple]

I don’t know if anyone even still reads ikarishipping fics but I have an idea that’s literally rotting my brain so I guess I’ll be writing one for me myself and I🧍🏻‍♀️