#was gonna post it yesterday but I fell asleep

[transrevolutions]

this was two weeks in the making happy mandy mtuesday

(based on this tumblr post)

[buckleyseddie]

ohhh maybe "pull over. let me drive for a while"?? i love you <3

hi baby thank you i love you <3 @lesbiandiaz also asked for this one so i hope you both enjoy this little thing

***

When Eddie wakes up, it’s to the rumbling of the Jeep beneath him and the sound of Buck’s astronomy podcast coming from the radio, the volume turned low so as to not disturb Eddie’s sleep. Buck must’ve switched to it after he dozed off because Eddie vividly remembers falling asleep to the sound of Buck’s soft humming instead. He remembers thinking how there’s nothing he’d want more than to fall asleep to that, with his kid sleeping soundly in the backseat, for as long as they drive places together.

One look to the rearview mirror confirms that Christopher’s still sleeping, head lolled to the side and his glasses sitting crooked on his nose. He’d fallen asleep almost as soon as they left the campsite; as much as Chris likes to complain about having a bedtime at thirteen, staying up way past it last night to stargaze really took a toll on him. Out of the three of them, Eddie’s the only one who shouldn’t be tired, not when he’d fallen asleep when only a few stars could be seen in the sky. Buck and Christopher had stayed up until two, whispering about stars and constellations and planets; quietly, trying not to disturb Eddie, who’d been called in for an extra shift right before they left for their camping trip.

He’d woken up hours later with his son’s head on his shoulder, snoring softly and Buck, still awake, sitting on Christopher’s other side, leaning back on his palms and looking up at the sky. For a moment, Eddie had stared at Buck, at how beautiful he looked bathed in moonlight, his face so peaceful and relaxed.

He’d thought that by staying very still, Buck would think that he was still asleep, but something must’ve given him away because, without taking his eyes from the sky, Buck had said, “oh good, you’re awake. I can carry Chris inside his tent, but I was ready to leave you out here.”

Eddie had snorted, careful not to wake up his son. “Well, it’s not so bad out here.” He’d fallen asleep under the stars one time, he could probably do it again.

Buck had grinned at Eddie over his shoulder. “Tell that to the mountain lions.”

“I know you didn’t bring me and my son to a place where there are mountain lions roaming around.”

“Of course not,” Buck winked at Eddie, pushing himself up to his feet. “Coyotes on the other hand-” He’d trailed off with a goofy grin that Eddie had wanted to kiss off his face even though he was being an idiot (especially since he was being an idiot).

“Shut up,” Eddie had said, but when Buck had picked Christopher up, careful not to jostle him, and taken him to his tent, Eddie had made his way to the one he would be sharing with Buck, away from any coyotes that might be lurking in the trees.

“Hey,” Buck says now, pausing the podcast and turning to Eddie. “Did I wake you? Sorry, after you fell asleep too I needed something to keep me awake and music wasn’t enough.”

“No, you're good,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “I should be sorry, I’ve been falling asleep on you all weekend.”

Buck pouts a little. “And I was the one who dragged you camping on your day off after a forty-eight.”

“Yeah, because my son’s been obsessing over constellations and planets since his school took him to the observatory and you thought he’d like to go stargazing,” Eddie says, reaching over and grabbing Buck’s hand, giving him a soft smile. Buck takes his eyes off the road for a second to return the smile, it’s genuine if only a little tired. “And he did. And so did I, even if I didn’t do much of it.”

Eddie still got to listen to Buck and Christopher geek out about planetary lineups and satellites and moon phases on the drive up, he got to tease Buck for failing to start a fire so they could make s’mores several times before he got it right (“my job is to stop fires, Eddie, not start them!”). He got to watch Buck stuff his face with as many marshmallows as he could (five marshmallows!) while trying to keep them all awake until the sky was dark enough to see anything. Christopher dared Buck to fit a sixth marshmallow and it ended with him spitting out the rest, and Eddie had laughed and told Buck it was okay, that he knew just how much he could fit into his mouth, and then he got to watch Buck blush to the tip of his ears. He also got to kiss Buck goodnight in their shared tent, and having only started doing that recently, the novelty of it still hadn’t worn off (though to be honest, Eddie doesn’t think it ever will).

Eddie’s thoughts get interrupted by Buck freeing his hand from his so he can cover his mouth when he yawns. It makes sense that Buck is the most tired. He stayed up later than Christopher last night, and even much later than Eddie, and he was the first one up this morning. He hasn’t been able to take a nap because he’s been driving. He even had to switch from music to his podcast to stay awake because both Eddie and Christopher fell asleep, and he had no one to talk to him.

“Hey,” Eddie says and Buck hums tiredly. “How long until we make it back?”

“Hm, maybe an hour until we’re home.”

Home. Eddie’s house. Where Buck will linger after dropping them off until it’s too late to head to the loft so he’ll end up staying the night. It’s something that has been happening since before they got together, only now Buck gets to sleep on Eddie’s bed with him instead of his couch.

Which is good for many reasons. One of them being the fact that Buck clearly needs some proper rest.

Right now, he’s blinking his eyes repeatedly, trying to stay alert. Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s leg. “Buck, you’re tired.”

“I’m fine,” he says, grabbing Eddie’s hand in his and bringing it to his lips, kissing it.

“You’re falling asleep, baby,” Eddie says and watches with a thrill as Buck melts a little at the pet name. “Pull over. Let me drive for a while.”

“You hate driving,” Buck says with the same little smile he gets when he teases Eddie about his permanent passenger princess status.

“I do, but you know what I’d hate more? You crashing us and our kid into a pole because you fell asleep behind the wheel,” Eddie says, kindly ignoring the way Buck’s breath hitches when Eddie says our kid. “It’s only for an hour, come on.”

It shows just how tired Buck feels that he doesn’t put up much resistance. “Hm, okay.”

He pulls the car over and they both climb out. Eddie takes a moment to stretch his legs and Buck takes the opportunity to walk over to his side and crowd him against the door.

“Hey,” Buck says, hands on Eddie’s hips, his nose brushing against his. “Thank you.”

Eddie smiles, pushing up and kissing Buck’s lips. “I got you.”

“I know.” Buck can’t help himself and leans down to kiss him again and Eddie can’t help but let him, let Buck kiss him on the side of the road, on their way back to their home with their kid still sleeping soundly in the backseat. Eddie might just stay here forever, powerless to pull away from Buck’s lips-

That is, until their kissing gets cut short by Buck yawning again.

“Okay,” Eddie says, manhandling Buck until he’s the one leaning against the door. “Let’s go before you fall asleep on your feet and I have to leave you out here with the coyotes.”

“You wouldn’t dare, you love me,” Buck says, grinning from ear to ear, looking far too happy despite Eddie’s teasing.

Eddie can’t help but grin right back when he says, “yeah, I do.” Still not used to being able to say it so freely. “Come on, let’s go home.”

If possible, Buck’s grin gets even bigger.

[welcometogrouchland]

if you're asking for drawing requests, maybe Willow in her timeskip look or Luz with the Collector??

[ID: a digital illustration of Luz (in her titan form from watching and dreaming) and The Collector. Luz stands on a small hill of red grass, waving at The Collector, who's off-screen but depicted to the audience as a closeup inside a star shaped panel. Luz is waving at the off-screen Collector with a smile, while The Collector smiles tearfully at her. Small uncoloured doodles of Eda and King are depicted waving at the collector in the background. End ID]

This was meant to be a doodle anon but unfortunately I went off the shits. Anyway, collector sees Luz post-resurrection and cries big gross happy tears bc he's so happy she's alive

[r0tt1ngr4bb1t]

Me when me when Ashur:

[johnsspacesuittight]

renaissance painting

[solnoct]

happy nazuday🍓🐇

[punkeropercyjackson]

Hey you guys know how 'Daddy issues' by the Neighbourhood is popularly used to joke about characters having abusive parents or even as a ship thing for age gaps?Well,i payed attention to the lyrics instead of just the title and it turns out the song is actually about neither of those things but about trauma bonding between a couple over their dad's who were good to them dying when they were little.At this point you guys don't even know what that phrase means yet are obsessed with it and it's come out as a musty ass combo that gives off 'never properly dated anyone despite being openly desperate to' vibes

[fimmfs]

just…. arms

[mattodore]

When you get this, list 3 facts about your favorite sim and send it to the last 3 people in your notifications! Let's get to know each other's sims! <3 (obviously no pressure and feel free to ignore this if you want) (btw ily MWAH)

hiii nene <3 going to answer this for both of them!!

facts for theo:

every year when summer would roll around and theo would be sent to boarding school, he’d always be given the exact same dorm room which he’d have all to himself. same bed, same covers, same drafty windows. he was constantly losing things in his room. he’d set his cardigan down on his desk and the next day it’d be gone. countless things disappearing while he slept. his memory playing tricks on him. but there were some summers where he’d come back and he’d see that same cardigan right there on the back of the door, almost like it’d been waiting for him. things popping back up that he thought he lost so many summers ago. it was unsettling. when things started coming back, he began to develop nightmares.

theo cut most of his hair off when he was seventeen. he did it himself so it was... a mess. he cried a lot. he felt lighter from it just the same as he felt like he was being crushed all over. then his parents saw what he'd done... they were always angry with him for acting out as a teenager and making it impossible to get his hair cut, but at least his hair still looked somewhat presentable then. after he chopped it all off himself it just looked horrible, almost unsalvageable, so they punished him for it. it felt like he was being punished for so much more than cutting his hair.

theo first started playing with makeup as a child. his au pair would let him dig around in her purse for it and he'd grab fistfuls of makeup like they were buried treasure and pull them out triumphantly before investigating his spoils. he liked to draw on his face and arms with her lipsticks, just these cute little scribbles that she’d have to wipe away afterwards with her thumb.

facts for matthias:

matthias technically died when he was a teenager. he was dead for minutes on end but the frigid state of his body at the time was such that he was still able to be resuscitated, even when the other parties were reluctant to give urgency to his medical aid. he nearly didn’t make it out alive. though, in a way, i guess you could say he didn’t. not really. he certainly wasn’t convinced of it. nobody other than himself and a handful of people who were actually there even know about what happened. truthfully, i don't know that he's ever fully processed the trauma of it. it's centered in a lot of his nightmares.

while matthias's body is littered with scars, the one his mother gave him on his chin is the only one that he can still feel. everywhere else is numb to him, but that one... it's like the phantom sensation of something tugging and stretching over the bloody gape of the wound never went away, his skin forever stuck trying to stitch itself back together. it's been years, a decade for him, but it still feels so raw. being touched there is almost unbearable. it's like he's being ripped open again every time. (fully aware the above image shows theo covering the scar with his thumb... smiles.)

similar to theo, matthias used to play with makeup as a child. imani had a small compact with eyeshadow in it that she’d apply on matthias’s eyelids with her fingertips and then he’d do the same to her. their boarding school had strict rules about no makeup, so she could only get away with with this light golden color that was almost imperceptible. it looked pretty and subtle on her but on matthias it was nearly invisible except for a slight shimmer. it was kind of pointless to put it on him but matthias liked it anyway. she'd always apply it so carefully… that young in age, matthias wasn't used to being touched at all—not unless he was being punished by a teacher. so it was... well, it was nice. he learned how to reciprocate such gentle touches while applying the eyeshadow on her.

[layton-heritage-posts]

Here are the results from the sixth question of the week!

Which Battle is the best one?

[ghoulbats]

Will u be my valentine 🥺💐🍫

ALWAYS🥹

^ dis is us oki

[arthur-r]

(wrote this song before i left for college but it’s sure applicable to life right now!!!!)

lyrics: falling from grace, i’m a rusting lace artifact / tears down my face as i break my immortal pact / trust me, i want to be healthy / trust me, i want to be special and loving and sweet / trust me, i know that i’m broken / please, i just want one more chance to prove that i could be the— / best friends know how to reveal me / best friends know how hard i try to have something to say / best friends know that it’s not helping / can i just go far away to where there’s nowhere else to— / turn around, up and down, i’m melting!!!! / turn around, i have something to say!!!! / color bleeding, heartbeat leaving, need a place to lay my head / arms are folded, fine print bolded, everything is overloaded!!!!!!!! / color faded by the sun, i bite my tongue, i’m coming undone / color faded by the sun, i bite my tongue, i’m coming undone / color faded by the sun, i bite my tongue / trust me, i want to be healthy / trust me, i want to be special and loving and sweet / trust me, i know that i’m broken / trust me, i know that i’m broken….

[lethalurgy]

14 june - pushing forward (+ late end of day update)

I went out to make some preparations for my graduation, and then went to a cafe to study so I started late, and finished quite late. Not the prettiest photos but I really like walking at night where there’s less people, less traffic and less humidity. Its also a good way to destress after a long day.

But! I’m pretty satisfied with yesterday’s progress in terms of my readings and study time. I wanted to stay in the cafe for longer because I was pretty focused (which is rare) but it was getting very late so I had to go home. Nevertheless, it was a good day.

[zapsoda]

heres some shit i drew yesterday

[lesserden]

So let's talk about it.

This involves about the leaks, and since today is the day the update hits, I'm kinda gutted about it.

I've wanted Dehya for ages, imaging she's gonna be a beast, only to hear how bad she actually is. I was already in a bit of a mood with Genshin, as it's just become kinda meh for me. Sure, some things are nice and cute. But with the amount of filler events, nothing really to look forward to at present time, it's just become a game I go grind on for a few minutes and then go off.

To add this to the pile now. It's a shame.

[blindedguilt]

//So that essay I did. I ended up writing VERY VERY thinly veiled DOD fanfiction for the prompt which was basically “Write a first-person initiation into adulthood based off one of the stories in the textbook and a comparative essay between the two after” and so I ended up bullshitting the essay only reading the stories after I made the narrative lol i got a 96/100 anyways //I figured as it was about everyone’s favourite bilf of the bog that I’d post it here, but... //Reminder: This is my first time really solidly writing in first person since I was like nine, so it may be a bit rocky. First person is NOT my area of expertise lol //And ofc obvious trigger warnings for mentions of paedophilia and stuff (Nothing explicit though, of course!) //Enjoy!

“...And we’ll be married. You’ll see.” “I never saw you speak to each other.” “I said, you’ll see.”

So the banter had gone by so frequently then, and now stood I alongside his wife and his child, and mother on the other side, staring at the curves of his face and how it had thinned, still soft and child-like yet aged and grown in such a way none could have explained by any normal means. Perhaps, then, it was in the sight of those definitively unchanging eyes and how they gleamed the same way under the sun that had caught my attention, and in turn, his, and he turned to look back with some strange sadness that I had averted my gaze in some feeling between either abashedness or fear of any hint of understanding to be held. “...Why her?” “Her? Leonard, look at her.” “I do see her.” “Don’t you? You hardly even looked. Well…” “She… Is kind, isn’t she?” “Yes! And one day, I will make her my bride.” And so the village men had gone and lined up near the forest break on the army’s cart, the showing of the backs of their unnaturally cut hair settling an odd knot in the stomachs of I and who I was certain, the other few men who stayed behind. Orbas’s hair had been a similar length of the day I met him, so I had recalled, though the ends were splayed and framed that once pale neck in such a way that reminded me of the small leaves of a flaxen bush or perhaps a spring tree, though there was one small, favorite piece that strayed off the side of his face — His son, such a small child, had already inherited it — And so he had frequently kept tied and twined with the same strip of leather worn by men and women here. For Orbas, it was no more. I had thought to pick up his son at that moment; for his sake, his father’s sake, and as well my own. Near four and almost the same image as his father, that I had at times troubled myself in remembering his mother, and to see and grant his father’s own personal wishes of caring for that stray hair in his place (So as I had when we were mere boys), tying the silk strands in place, to have “him” so completely and totally reliant on me, it was comforting. The feel of the warmth from such a small body, held in my arms and placed against my own, the grip of small hands pulling against my cloak, was comforting. It was wish fulfillment, in a way. The circumstances in which we had met were entirely on Orbas’s own will. How he darted so confidently up to the smithing corner with frail legs that seemed ready to snap under his own weight, and I, feeble and feminine in mind as he was in body, having apparently gained some semblance leaning towards haughty self-bravado thought, ‘What does this mad fool think he’s doing? Who does he think he is?’ and was only further driven in such convictions when he spoke as if we had never once been strangers before. For Orbas, all it took was a single conversation —  And still, for all the good I’ve come to speak and feel for him, I think not once have I changed in my belief that he was completely mad that day in having tossed all pride aside to speak to the mollified mute of Atheren. 

He had dragged me from my crafts, introduced me to friends who would soon become my own, and had not once ceased for a day after to visit me in my practice there. Father was pleased at first, until he wasn’t, as I had gone from smithing and not speaking to speaking and not smithing, and following his harsh, booming rebuke towards the shaken lad as I could only offer my embarrassed gaze lowered towards the dirt, and bits of green with hints of metal in-between, he would come every other day instead. When we went out, with others or by ourselves as we later had, it had always been Orbas there to lead the way, the conversation, to give directions and warnings unless I knew better in my caution, to where I would try to speak — But I was merely a follower. I have always been, a fact with no shame in admitting and a fate I would think to show no more than indifferent contentment towards. “Why me?” I had asked. Another walk. “We never spoke before.” “Can you keep a secret?” I nodded. Something in my heart fluttered and leapt with those words. “Well… Haven’t you seen yourself?” Something must have been spoken in my silence as confusion or hurt in a way he didn’t need to look over his shoulder to see, prompting him to explain. “You never spoke to the adults or children your age, but only the animals and infants lost by their mothers. You panicked, but always found them home. We saw it. We all did, then, you know.” “...” “When you saw a fly being eaten by a spider, you would take a stick to it and try to ward it off. If you couldn’t reach, you’d find somewhere else to go that you didn’t have to hear it. Your father yelled at you because you had trouble baiting a fish hook. Other children… Normal boys, at least, we saw it and laughed. You, already bigger than the rest of us and yet hardly able to look anyone in the eyes. The girls fancied it, though, called you a gentleman and all, and so one day I thought, ‘I wonder if there’s someone he’s trying to impress with all this?’ and I began to get curious.” “No. I… I’m not trying to impress anyone.” “Well you certainly are when you follow every stupid order I give you.” I stared at the back of his head. A few more steps, and he peered over his shoulder at me, whatever look I wore causing those soft lips to curl up into a laugh. “There has to be someone.” “... There isn’t, honest.” “Say who. We can help you, Leonard, and you’re set to be wed before any of us. Haven’t you always spoken about wanting children? Yours and mine can be friends, and your sons will be older and teach my sons all about everything, just like us!” Something in those words had risen and tightened the back of my throat, and I spoke as I did back then, before I met him — Unable to look him in the eye, look at him at all, and my voice had grown so faint the sound had barely reached my own ears. “It is a secret. That is all.” … And as the years passed, that secret and I grew up and spent our years together, the “Secret” got married at fifteen, and I was sixteen, except he had grown out of being a “Secret”, and once I did, I thought to myself, “I am free” —  But I never did find a wife. When the friends of my childhood pointed them out, “That one’s pretty”, “I spoke to her, she is interested in you”, I only could only ever offer another soulless nod along to the increasingly agitated and growing band of married men, all who later had their sons I loved and adored just as I would have my own, and some had daughters, too. In that same year Orbas had gotten married, I moved on to another secret picking berries in the woods, another fixation skinning their knee on the ground, but after him, I never knew it as I did then — “Such a thing would be impossible,” I always told myself — And I continued life as a blacksmith’s son, a follower, and a coward to the war that brought itself to our town in search of new hands for slaughter. “Security” had been the word spoken to me that day, who chose to stay behind (The child incapable of baiting a fish hook or accepting nature in near all its form), in contrast to him, whose bravery sought the peace of the world, the heads of red-eyed monsters, all the glory and fame reflected back the small village of Atheren, even at risk of his own family, foraged and built. A family, one woman and her four year-old son, unable to fend for themselves. Once again he acted in a way that any madman might, entrusting his sole unmarried friend to care for a wife and son in his absence, and then again, perhaps not mad — Explicitly had he stated his trust with a laugh in that I had come “This far” without any luck, and furthermore went to cite our own, personal trust we had built in each other — He knew they would be fine because he simply knew me. Always the protector, and where I never did find a wife, I made my home among the children of the village. And as the cart started away through the woods with a forward jerk, and Obros, the sweetness grown out of his face, looked over his shoulder at me, his tiny son held in my arms, and smiled with that worried look, I smiled back. I gave him a nod in reassurance, and he slipped through that canopy of pine and birch and away towards war beyond. It’s alright now. Now, I am fine. He’ll be alright. He’ll be alright. It’s okay, because now, I’ve finally found someone. Someone I love, just as I loved you. It was a secret.