tribius-art - Tumblr blog

[tribius-art]

NasuverseAU

Me and my inconsistent mind, and this is the first one that I want to do after I finish the exam week

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how to talk with short people: the guide

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nonreciprocal

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⚡🐉⚡

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I needed the

+ close-up

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gumiki my beloved

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for lesbian visibility week sophie and hikaru? <3

<3

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happy lesbian week to MeiLera !!!

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⟡⟡⟡ they ⟡⟡⟡

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This is dyguma to me lmao

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ᯓᡣ𐭩

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They’re scheming, plotting even

—

Lineart below cut:

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sometimes there's nothing good to watch on TV </3

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her fairy

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First page done, now let's see if I can stick to this idea or not

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do NOT the tithi🙅

Ah hel naw they done yoğurmak my boy

-drew this a while ago forgor to post it :P

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Sacrament

Trade with @tribius-art that resulted in me winning the WR for speedrunning every RyuGin episode in MFB tbh.

sacrament.

sac·ra·ment | /ˈsakrəm(ə)nt/

(in the Christian Church) a religious ceremony or ritual regarded as imparting divine grace, such as baptism, the Eucharist and (in the Roman Catholic and many Orthodox Churches) penance and the anointing of the sick.

(in Roman Catholic use) the consecrated elements of the Eucharist, especially the bread or Host.

a thing of mysterious and sacred significance; a religious symbol.

It was a ghost of a touch across his hand.

One that came and went so quickly Ginga could have assumed he had merely imagined it. Were it not for the fact that it always began this way. With him tucked away in a booth in a secluded corner of a quiet, dimly lit bar alone. Until someone would pass him by, making the most brief and yet intentional contact with his hand resting on the edge of the table. So he’d wait patiently, his eyes closed and drink forgotten as he silently mused. 

Eventually an all too familiar man would slide into the booth, carefully avoiding physical contact. The scowl on his lips would deepen as Ginga visibly suppressed a smile.

“You came, Ryūga,” Ginga stated, not hiding his amusement as he opened his eyes to glance at the other man.  “I thought for sure you weren’t going to come this time,” he continued reaching for his drink and bringing it to his lips, taking a sip.

“What can I say? I seem to enjoy wasting my time,” Ryūga retorted, clenching his teeth together as he stared at Ginga with an intensity that would make most people uncomfortable.

“Is that so?” Ginga inquired, his elbow pressing against the old wood as he rested his chin on his hand. No longer able to hide his grin.

Ryūga sneered, electing to ignore his companion instead of humoring him. He knew the answer anyway.

Ginga took the awkward silence that descended between them as an opportunity to prattle on endlessly about how his week had been, everything from what he’d eaten to what harebrained scheme he and his friends had come up with. Useless information Ryūga purged from his mind in the same instant it was given.

“You know it wouldn’t kill you to at least pretend to be interested,” Ginga said suddenly, his smile slipping from his face as a sadness seemed to envelop him.

“And why would I do that?” Ryūga drawled, his disinterest palpable.

“Because that’s what friends do!” Ginga exclaimed with evident frustration as he sat up straight, his hand dropping onto the table with a silent thunk. Ryūga’s eyes narrowed.

“Were. Not. Friends.” he replied slowly through clenched teeth, making sure to put great emphasis on each word.

“If we weren’t friends you wouldn’t meet up with me all the time,” Ginga challenged, his open hand clenching into a fist on the table.

“Have you ever considered that I meet up with you so I can be entertained by your pathetic life?” He rebutted. Immediate regret festered in his stomach when Ginga flinched slightly from the words, but he was in too deep to take it back.

“…You must really hate me,” Ginga said. So quietly it was almost inaudible over the ambient noise of the bar.

There were alarm bells ringing loudly in Ryūga’s head as he watched Ginga chew on his lower lip and avert his eyes to the other side of the booth away from him. But ignoring all reason he let out a bitter laugh before going in for the kill:

“Like you? I can barely tolerate you.” 

Ginga sprung up from his seat, uttering a frantic apology. Rambling something about the time, and pushing his way out from the interior of the booth before vacating the premise with a haste Ryūga had never seen before. 

Fuck.

He rifled through his coat pocket for his wallet and pulled out a handful of bills, quickly counting out the amount to settle their tab before rushing out the door into the cool late autumn air. He looked up and down the street scanning the mostly empty sidewalks. Finally catching a glimpse of red stalking away from the bar. He followed Ginga, briskly walking in his direction. Annoyance festered under his skin as he seemed to notice the pursuit and increase his pace. As if he could ever outrun him.

The cat and mouse game was brief as Ryūga caught up with Ginga. Forcefully grabbing his forearm before he could bolt again, and slowly twisting him back to face him. Despite the precarious situation Ginga still refused to meet his gaze, instead allowing his head to loll to the side as he stared at the dirty sidewalk. Ryūga huffed in annoyance, moving his free hand to grab the other man's chin roughly, and moving his head until he forced Ginga to look at him.

“… Was that too far?” Ryūga questioned, breaking the oppressive silence that had descended. His thumb idly tracing patterns across Ginga’s chin, and briefly brushing his lower lip. He already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from the others' lips.

“Yeah…” Ginga replied with barely a whisper, the nervous breath he exhaled brushing across Ryūga’s fingers.

“Sorry,” Ryūga said with a breathy sigh, his hand falling limply from Ginga’s face to his side. He’d gotten carried away. Taking their interaction as a challenge, as another way to defeat him.

But they were nearly a decade past petty childhood rivalries.

“I’ll admit…” Ginga started with an awkward chuckle, “I just didn’t expect you to deviate that far from what actually happened.”

Ryūga inhaled deeply, before inaudibly muttering something that sounded vaguely like: ‘well then what did you expect?’ and finally releasing Ginga’s arm from his bruising grip.

Year after year, every November 19th they’d arrive alone at the same dingy old bar. Meeting up as if they were perfect strangers and reenacting the night Ginga had declared was their first date. And every year there was guaranteed to be some hiccup that altered the evening. But despite the imperfect replications it had never gone so off the rails that it changed the course from the night's preordained ending. Until tonight of course.

Ryūga knew he had spoken those vitriolic words with complete conviction, hoping to rustle Ginga’s feathers. To get a rise, to start a fight. What he hadn’t considered was what to do if those words ended up hurting his feelings. He didn’t like to think about how they’d been doing this for years now and he still didn’t know what to do if he went too far. And he probably would go too far someday. 

Inevitably.

“Well there’s always next year,” Ginga said, his cheery demeanor returning and interrupting Ryūga’s introspection. He seemed appeased by the apology… this time. When Ryūga raised an eyebrow inquiringly Ginga added playfully: “And the year after that… and after that… oh dear I think you’re stuck with me actually.”

The brilliant smile returned to Ginga’s face as he stepped into Ryūga’s personal space, gingerly taking his hands in his own and pulling him closer until he could feel his breath against his own lips.

“Just don’t fuck it up again, ok?”

And it was a promise he couldn’t keep but he’d make it all the same, sealing it with a kiss he hoped wasn’t the last.